Twenty-Four

The land of magic. And he was here. Here.

Impossible. But he dreamt of Fillory—all the time—just-just not like this. It was everything he'd imagined but wasn't either. The clocks cast in rot and iron in these trees had stopped ticking a long time ago.

"Never thought I'd say this, but I prefer the nerd's sex dreams to this shit." Penny scowled, covering his mouth.

"Ugh. I'm gonna throw up." Margo waved the air from around her. The fog was starting to clear up but the air stayed the same. The stench unbearable. "Oh, fuck me Jesus!" She backpedaled, tripping.

"Maybe later, Bambi." Elliot put his arm around her shoulder, eyes wide and glossed over. "I don't think this place would welcome us to a frolic in the bushes."

"Is that us?" Alice whispered in disbelief.

Quentin felt a chill prickle up his neck and shifted uncomfortably, his palms sweaty. "I-I don't understand this isn't—this can't be—"

"It's like looking in the mirror. But I'm dead." Margo's titled her head and leaned down. "I think you're having a nightmare, honey. Or your just little twisted in the head."

"Or maybe he's the Beast."

"Yeah, because I would go through all trouble to kill myself too?" Quentin exasperated.

"Shut up, both of you. I'm trying to understand this." Alice glared at Penny. "And you know that's not true."

"Just a thought." He shrugged. "Where are we anyway?"

"Fillory." Juila said, staring down at the dead ridden grass and blood. Their blood.

"What?" Penny hand's fisted down at his sides. "This can't be real. If you take us anywhere but home. I'll beat the shit out of you in real life, I swear to god. Wake the fuck up. Now."

"I-I—" Quentin ran his hands through his hair, breathing hard. He was a inch away from freaking out.

Seeing his body split wide open, guts out, wasn't exactly on the list of things he wanted to experience. He was trying to make sense of things. "I don't think this is dream."

"Fuck, man. What are you saying? This can't be real."

"No. Not this is a dream, but it's not. Remember what professor Sunderland said."

"We live in a world of one of just many." Alice said.

"Right. This a different world. A different timeline-loop, where we all die, and the Beast wins. A past memory. It only makes sense."

"Elliot. Elliot!" Margo smacked back. "Somethings wrong, guys! What's wrong, baby?"

He looked more out of sorts than usual after taking a few shots of whatever he spelled up.

Elliot suddenly lurched forward on his knees, "I'm having a bad trip, Bambi. I might've expanded my horizons too far with this one," and promptly threw up.

Margo rolled her eyes. "You tried something fun again without me. Again."

"Can we focus, please?" Alice said, slightly panicked. "If this is a memory. It can't be Elliot. We're all dead remember. He couldn't have remembered us like this."

"Then who...?" Juila started, but started but stopped, her brows creasing. "Does anyone hear voices?"

"So, I'm not the only one?" Penny commented.

"And you're just saying that now?" Quentin threw up his arms, agitated.

He gave him pointed look. "I always hear voices, nerd. And you're fucking loud. What's new?"

"But this is different." Alice tried to calm her nerved, releasing a deep breath. "What is it, Penny? What do you guys hear?"

"Whistling." Juila answered, her skin crawling as it became louder.

"Its him." Quentin said what everyone was thinking. "Wake up. Wake up." He grabbed his hair, panicking, squeezing his eyes shut.

The Beast laughed. "I decide when to wake you up Quentin." Moths fluttered around until Martin Chatwin's face became clear. "I decide when to kill you. You're silly attempts are starting to bore me. However...."

Quentin gasped as he jerked awake finding himself laying down on the hard floors of the Chatwin's old home. He stilled, feeling the sharp blade of Umber's blade run along his neck and choked.

"It's always a pleasure."