“Miserable Magicaps,” Mena moaned as the crowd chanted for her fried flesh. “Looks like we’re in a sticky situation. Or more accurately, a non-stick-frying pan situation.”

War-Hog strutted around the large woodpile beneath the enormous frying pan. “You won’t be telling those jokes, little girl, when you’re served home-friend beneath some fresh-eggs.”

Several smaller pigmalians circled around them with over-sized packets of a curious brown sauce. They hopped onto the pan and began to dump loads of the brownish grease all over Mena and her friends. “Eww, what are you doing,” Ashlan snapped as the residue ran down her face.

War-Hog fitted a gladiator helmet around his mohawk. He pointed a large black hoof at Mena and her friends and bellowed triumphantly, “"For those about to fry, we sauté you"

The bacon chants grew louder and louder as several pigmalians kindled the fire below them. The smell of burning wood choked the air. “Any last regrets before you go up in smoke?” The Archhog demanded from down below.

“I regret not being able to write this land a better ending,” Mena said, defiantly looking at the Archhog. “We never even found a way to break through the sky barrier.”

“I regret not being able to save my daughter…snoik…” Pigchard said, solemnly gazing at the pan. He turned to Mena. “I know there was a rumored way to break the sky barrier…but I don’t remember.”

“It’s ok, Pigchard,” Mena said, dejectedly. “I doubt we’ll be escaping anyway.”

A wave of dry heat flashed over the stadium. “I regret,” Janus said with a dreamy smile and eyes gazing into nowhere. “Not being the skeleton bride of this handsome stud-a-zombie.”

Chad groaned uncomfortably. “I’m regret being in such a state that only undead broads like me.”

The frying pan to sizzle, causing everyone to prance around uncomfortably. “Ok,” Ashlan exclaimed, breaking down in her raspy yet girly voice. “I regret not telling Rainy the reason I set up that whole mystery. It was to have one last adventure with her.”

Everyone turned their head to her. “Wait really?” Mena exclaimed.

Janus and even Chad rolled their eyes. Apparently, things were less obvious to the young witch than it was to them. “Ah,” Janus said, her eyes closed. “Death-pan confessions. Where would we be without them?”

“Oh, what a world,” Mena screamed as the pan sizzled louder. “We’re frying, we’re frying!”

“BACON, BACON BACON BACON!” the blood thirsy crowd chanted. “BACON BACON BAC-WAAAH?!”

A sound that resembled an unholy cross between a distorted scream and a muted trumpet rang down from the sky. It silenced the crowd who wished to see what was making that unsettlingly racket.

An enormous blot of ink glided through the sky. With several elongated arms reaching out from the center like a starfish, and a rainbow-colored eye at the dead center, Mena immediately knew what it was. Another trumpet-cry rang through the air.

“The great and terrible Ink Blot…snoik,” Pigchard cried out.

The Blot extended a shadowy tendril and grasped the pig-man in its arm.

“Mena! Aero-Dragons,” he screamed. “They move really fast, maybe they can break through the sky barrier.”

Mena and her friends cried out for Pigchard as the beast held him over the panicking crowd.

War-Hog aggressively brandished a spear. “I’m not afraid of the spew from a leaky pen. Bring it on.”

One of the terrible Ink blots arms expanded and swept the War-Hog off his hoofs. The hapless War-Hog shrieked like a piglet, somersaulting through the air, before landing crotch-first on the frying pan’s handle. “My pork-chops,” he squealed, before launching Mena and her friends right over the top of the stadium.

They screamed as they pivoted through the sky. As they flew, Janus managed to unfasten her hands from the ropes that bound them. The pixie reaper quickly chanted. “Magic, please give us a cushion, or else, daisies we’ll be pushin!”

Velvet cushions sprouted in the center of the lower-class pigmalian neighborhood, right before they crashed down. With a holler Mena screamed as they bounced off the cushion into a house of sticks.

“Owwwwch!” Mena whined, as a bunch of pigmalians gazed curiously at her. It seemed they weren’t informed about the whole “human bacon” performance. “Why couldn’t we have landed on one of those nice hay houses? I nearly poked my eye out.”

“At least, we’re alive,” Janus said, in a chipper tone, but Ashlan whimpered into her hand. “Do I need to ask why you’re crying, lion-breath?”

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“I was supposed to die,” Ashlan sobbed. “Now everyone knows what lies in my fragile lion’s heart.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” Janus said, airily. “The way you bear yourself, it’s obvious to everyone but the most oblivious of us.”

“Poor Pigchard,” Mena said, getting to her knees. “I hope he’s alright.”

Janus pulled some sticks out of her gaunt cheekbone. “If the Blot is controlled by his daughter, I doubt she’d hurt him.”

“We can only hope,” Ashlan responded abruptly. “So err… what was that about Aero Dragons?”

Chad Abber lumbered to closer to the girls, scaring off a nearby child as he moved. “Aye, Aero Dragons. They dwell on the peaks of Twin Spire Mountain. They’re near impossible to hunt because of the speed they fly at.”

Mena pointed to a mountain with two peaks that spiraled around each other. They towered over the city. “Is that the mountain?”

Chad nodded. “It is.”

“It’s worth a shot then,” Mena nodded, hopping to her feet, and scampering off towards the mountain. “Aero-Dragons. They’re our only shot at reaching the Ghost Writing and saving Pigchard,”

Ashlan buried her head in her hands again, but Janus placed a consoling, bony hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance.”

***

The Twin Spire mountains daunted Mena and her friends with their sheer height. They spiraled so far upwards that they punctured the cirrus clouds that swirled around the twisted peaks. Their cobalt girth stretched so far and high; Mena arched her eyebrows so high that they wrinkled her forehead.

“How are we going to get to the top?” she asked, earnestly.

“I explore mountains the same way I look over a fine lass,” Chad Abber cut in. “From bottom to top.”

Ashlan let out an enraged howl. “Ugh, Janus, what do you even see in this guy? I wish the Blot got him rather than the pig!”

“He is right though,” Janus said. “Is there any point of entry on this mountain?”

“I’ll refrain from continuing my analogy,” Chad Abber responded dryly. “The town used to mine here for pen metal. There’s plenty of ways in.”

“Excellent,” Mena responded. “Let’s use the first one we can find.”

***

Since nobody else had any better ideas, Mena chose the first mine shaft that was built into the Twin Spire Mountain. It was built into a wall atop a short cragged ledge. Cold air whooshed from out of the darkness, and as they walked to the edge of the pale rocks, Mena swore she heard a cry from inside.

“Do you hear that?” Mena asked, placing her hand to her ear.

The cry resounded again. It was high and frail; resembling a newborn child. “Ah,” Chad responded. “I believe that is the sound of an Aero Pup. If we get ahold of one of those, we can hold it hostage and demand its mother give us a ride.”

Ashlan frowned and crossed her arms, and even Janus looked surprised by his rapscallion ways. (Though a slight shade of crimson tinted her cheeks.)

“Or perhaps, we can ask the dragon nicely for a ride…?” he added, and got more looks of approval from the girls.

The cry grew higher and more agitated, like it was being tortured. “Maybe the dragon baby’s in trouble!” Mena exclaimed. “Let’s save it.”

“Then we can extort the mother to give us rides for saving it,” Chad added, before Ashlan glared at him. “I mean, she’ll give us rides out of the goodness of our heart when we save her child.”

Mena and her friends tore through the tunnel, running at a steep incline. Only a few torches simmered in the darkness, guiding them with a spark of white light. Mena’s knobby knees wobbled as she ran uphill. Between the workout in the forest and this mountain’s steep tunnels, she was getting more of a workout than her Magical P.E. class, where she mostly walked around the gym, gossiping to May about their romance books.

Reaching the top of the subterranean tunnel, Mena’s feet ground to halt. Inside the next room, a glowing purple mist hovered around the cavern. “What is this funny stuff?” Mena asked softly to her friends.

Janus and Chad shrugged, but Ashlan gave a fanged smile. It betrayed the knowledge hidden within her glowing emerald eyes. “Professor Apo Carrey taught us about all kinds of magical hallucinogens in advanced elixirs.”

“Well…” Chad spat. “Are you gonna brag about your pedigree, lion lass, or tell us?”

Ashlan rolled her eyes at the cad and turned to Mena. “This, I believe is Mirthful Mist. A high-order Dream Gas. In fact, next to instant killers like Nightmare Novacane, this is almost as deadly.”

Mena gasped, as did Janus and Chad. “Worry not,” Ashlan said, “It’s possible to thwart this stuff with an ever-vigilant mind.”

Ashlan spoke loudly and matter of fact-ly like she was a sentient textbook. “Mirthful Mist creates a dream in your head that takes you to the happiest possible scenario in your life. Whatever you deeply wish, it will present to you in a very realistic hallucination…”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Mena responded. “Sounds like a regular good dream.”

Ashlan placed a finger close to Mena’s mouth. “But…” she remarked. “There is something off about this wonderfully happy dream. It’s not a huge detail, it could be very insignificant, but the more you think about it, the more terribly wrong it is.”

“Oh,” Mena responded, her excitement calming.

“If you don’t find this detail and stop it…” Ashlan responded, looking suddenly grave. “The gas will kill you.”

The nonchalance on Janus and Chad’s faces disappeared. Mena’s heart thundered in her chest. Her greatest moment of happiness…could be the death of her? What a sinister way to go.

“Fortunately,” Ashlan said, closing her eyes with her hands on her hips. “Apo Carrie told us: If you are mindful, this should be no-problem. And aside from that rogue, and dreamy dead-eyes, I think we all have pretty sharp minds.”

“Oi,” Chad yelled, “I’m very mindful aside from the bits of my brain that are missing. It’s you, lion lass, who probably should watch out.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ashlan said. “Once you get out of your dream, you develop an immunity to it. So hopefully this mist won’t bother us anymore. Now…who will go first?”

Mena swallowed hard, but she was ready to face whatever it was. After all, even she had no idea what this happiest memory could be. There was no way a simple dream could disarm her.

“I’ll go,” Mena said, jostling Ashlan’s shoulder.

“Rainy…are you sure?” Ashlan asked, her eyes crystalline.

“I’m the one in their legend…” Mena said, her hand pointed at her chest. “So, I’ll do it first. Besides, I doubt a river of Eye-Of-Newt spiced latte and a buncha long-haired shirtless wizard playboys could truly do me in”—Mena placed her index finger to her head and gave a wink—"I’m not as basic as you all think.”

“I don’t think you are either, Rainy,” Ashlan responded, putting her paw on Mena’s shoulder. “Well…if you know what you’re up against…Please come back safe.”

“I will…” Mena said with a head nod. “All I’ll tell them is, “Sorry Mr. Rights, it’s kingdom saving time. Put that smooth bedside manner beside a bed, not here!’”

Ashlan loudly gulped, and hesitantly removed her hand. Mena walked into the mist and her senses were overwhelmed with a kind of happiness that could kill her.