Mill Haven looms ahead of us, all gleaming white buildings and meticulously groomed gardens. There's something disquieting about its flawlessness – like someone took a Norman Rockwell painting and amplified the "idyllic" setting beyond reason.

  The sunlight here doesn't quite reach the ground properly – it's more like someone's idea of sunlight, filtered through a consciousness that only understood warmth as a concept. Even the shadows seem rehearsed, falling at angles that feel calculated rather than natural. It's as if reality itself is being staged, every detail managed by an unseen director with an obsessive need for control.

  "Is it just me," I mutter, watching two townspeople greet each other with identical beatific smiles, "or is this place a little too... pristine?"

  Aurora materializes beside me with a low growl, her massive form casting a protective shadow. Her ears flick back as she scans our surroundings, muscles tensed like a predator sensing danger.

  Analyzing town parameters...

  Cleanliness level: Suspicious

  Friendly behavior: Excessive

  Warning: No visible refuse or graffiti detected

  Note: This degree of perfection statistically improbable

  Additional note: Getting strong "pod people" vibes

  Aurora's tail lashes in agitation as she prowls the perimeter around us. "Something's wrong here," she says, her voice carrying a hint of a growl. "The energy patterns are all wrong. We need to watch our backs."

  Vesper peeks out from my shoulder, her golden-violet tendrils curling closer to my neck. Through our bond, I feel her unease – like static electricity raising the hair on your arms before a storm.

  "No like it here," she whimpers, pressing closer. "Too bright. Too clean. Can't play with shadows."

  She's right. The town seems to reject darkness itself, every corner flooded with unnaturally bright light. Even the alleyways gleam like they've been scrubbed with bleach. Aurora's usual confident stride seems subdued here – as if the town is actively suppressing anything that doesn't fit its perfect image.

  "Stay close," Moira murmurs, dimmed to a subtle shimmer. "Mill Haven has... particular standards for its guests."

  "Standards?" I ask, watching as another pair of townspeople pass by, their movements so synchronized they might as well be dancing. "Like 'mandatory happiness' standards?"

  "More like 'mandatory perfection,'" she replies, her eyes scanning the too-clean streets. "The town... changes those who stay too long. Makes them fit its image of ideal citizens."

  Aurora's hackles rise as she positions herself between us and a passing group of townspeople. "This place tries to remake everything it touches," she snarls softly. "I can sense failed transformations in the air. They don't just change people here – they recycle those who don't fit in."

  A woman walks past us, her smile fixed and glassy. For just a moment, I swear I see something shift beneath her too-perfect skin, like a mask that doesn't quite fit. Aurora's muscles tense as she positions herself between us and the stranger, a low warning growl rumbling in her throat.

  "We need supplies," Moira continues, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we must be careful. The town... hungers for new citizens. Especially those with power it can... repurpose."

  "Mama, them people scary," Vesper whispers, her branches curling tighter around my neck as another perfectly-dressed couple strolls past, their movements mirror images of each other. "Inside all dark and wrong."

  Aurora's ears flatten against her head as she pads closer to us, her massive form a living shield. Her golden eyes narrow at the passing townspeople, and I hear her mutter under her breath, "If they try anything, they'll regret it."

  Warning: Town's influence strengthening

  Void resistance: 87% and holding

  Note: Those smiles definitely hide teeth

  Additional note: Perhaps reconsider overnight stay

  "Right," I mutter, feeling Vesper tremble slightly against my neck. "Quick supply run, then we find somewhere else to camp. Somewhere with fewer... perfectly pleasant people."

  The townspeople's smiles follow us down the street, each one identical to the last. In their shadows – what few exist in this too-bright place – I swear I see fragments of who they used to be, crying out in silent warning.

  The general store looms ahead of us, its white facade harsh and sterile. The window display shows everyday items arranged with unnatural precision that makes my skin crawl.

  "Remember," Moira murmurs as we approach the door, "don't accept any free samples. Don't sign anything. And whatever you do, don't compliment the town."

  "That won't be a problem," I mutter, watching a shop clerk arrange cans with robotic precision through the window. "Though I have to ask - why are we shopping here if it's so dangerous?"

  "Because," she replies, her cosmic form now dimmed to barely a shimmer, "Mill Haven's supplies are guaranteed to work in any reality. We need equipment that won't fail when reality gets... creative."

  Analyzing shopping parameters...

  Risk level: Significant

  Supply quality: Unmatched

  Current objective: Quick acquisition

  Note: Those cans are definitely watching us

  Additional note: Subject's void energy causing shelf items to vibrate

  The bell above the door rings as we enter. The clerk turns, his smile so wide it must hurt. "Welcome to Mill Haven General! How may we help you achieve shopping perfection today?"

  "No want perfect," Vesper whispers into my hair, her branches trembling. Through our bond, I feel her fighting the urge to create void shields against the store's oppressive cheerfulness. Aurora stalks beside us, her muscular form coiled and ready, tail lashing with barely contained irritation.

  "Just browsing," I say carefully, noting how the clerk's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes - assuming those are even his real eyes.

  "Wonderful!" he exclaims with manufactured joy. "Please note that all customers must maintain a minimum happiness level of 87% while shopping. It's store policy!"

  "Of course it is," I mutter, heading for the shoe section. "Because that's totally normal and not creepy at all."

  Aurora lets out a derisive snort. "And I must maintain a minimum level of not mauling creepy store clerks. It's personal policy."

  The shelves seem to lean in as we pass, products rotating slightly to track our movement. A whisper of cellophane and cardboard fills the air, like the items are communicating in a language made of rustles and creaks. Aurora's hackles rise as she paces alongside us, her presence creating a bubble of safety in this too-perfect space.

  The fluorescent lights buzz overhead with an artificial cheerfulness. Every shelf gleams with an unnatural shine, products arranged in formations so precise they might be military squadrons rather than canned goods.

  "Remember what we discussed," I murmur to Vesper, who's still trying to hide in my hair. "No void portals, no eating abstract concepts, and absolutely no turning anyone into an impromptu dance troupe."

  "But dance fun," she protests softly, though I feel her agreement through our bond. Aurora rumbles in amusement, though her alert posture never wavers as she guards our little group.

  Analyzing store parameters...

  Current threat level: Concerning

  Store clerk smile width: Exceeds facial muscle capacity

  Note: Those price tags are definitely watching us

  Additional note: Subject's daughter showing admirable restraint

  "Oh!" The clerk materializes beside us, his movement too smooth to be natural. "I see you're interested in our footwear section! All shoes guaranteed to maintain perfect appearance in any reality. Would you like to hear about our current promotion? Just a small personality adjustment required for our preferred customer program!"

  "No thanks," I say firmly, grabbing the first pair of sturdy boots I see. "Just the shoes. No adjustments needed."

  His smile widens impossibly further. "But surely you'd like to hear about our community integration package? We're always looking for new citizens with... unique energy signatures."

  Aurora's muscles tense as she positions herself between us and the clerk, her golden eyes narrowing dangerously. A low growl rumbles in her chest as she speaks, "Back off, retail boy. We're not interested in your 'adjustments.'"

  "Mama," Vesper whispers, her branches curling tighter, "his light... bad light. Empty inside."

  She's right. Beneath his perfect exterior, the clerk seems hollow - as if something vital has been scraped out and replaced with the town's artificial cheer. Even Moira's cosmic presence seems to recoil from his manufactured perfection.

  "We'll just take the boots," I repeat, keeping my voice steady despite the void energy crackling beneath my skin. "Nothing else."

  "But surely—" he begins, reaching toward us with fingers that bend just slightly wrong.

  "The boots," Moira interrupts, her voice carrying enough cosmic power to make the fluorescent lights flicker. "Nothing more."

  The clerk's smile never wavers, but something ancient and hungry flashes behind his eyes. "Of course! That will be three drops of morning dew and your favorite childhood memory!"

  I freeze. "I'm sorry, what was that last part?"

  "Three drops of morning dew, we also accept mortal trinkets!" he chirps, all traces of the hunger gone. "Dew or silver?"

  Moira steps forward smoothly, placing three perfect spheres of morning dew on the counter. The clerk's eyes gleam with barely concealed greed.

  "The payment is sufficient," she says, her voice firm. "We'll be leaving now."

  As we exit, I can't shake the feeling that we've narrowly avoided something much worse than an unfavorable exchange rate. The store's perfect order seems to press against us like a physical weight, trying to smooth our rough edges into something more... acceptable.

  Our footsteps echo against the immaculate sidewalk as we hurry away from the store. Aurora keeps pace beside us, her powerful form moving with predatory grace, ears swiveling to catch any hint of pursuit.

  The town's oppressive perfection follows us like an unwanted shadow. Then, as if sensing our resistance, Mill Haven's mask begins to slip. The first signs are subtle – the too-bright streets dim, and a whisper of wind carries the scent of ozone.

  The artificial brightness fades as storm clouds roll in, shifting between purple and green like toxic paint in water. The temperature drops sharply, and frost spreads across the pristine windows of the general store.

  A siren blares, its musical tone almost pleasant. The townspeople move with practiced efficiency, their perfect smiles fixed in place as they flow like programmed dancers. Within minutes, the streets are empty except for our small group, but there's no panic in their departure – just smooth, practiced motion.

  "Mama," Vesper says, her voice trembling, "people go down-down. Under ground?"

  Aurora's ears flatten against her head as she surveys the street. "Something's moving beneath us. Like a giant anthill. We need to find cover."

  Multiple subterranean passages detected

  Town's defense systems activating

  Immediate shelter required

  A rising wind carries fragments of broken light. Moira's form flickers as one passes through her. "The Mill Haven Inn is our best option."

  "We have to stay in this Stepford wife nightmare?!" I ask, watching frost patterns spread across the pavement. "That seems... less than ideal."

  "Better than being caught in this unnatural storm," she replies, watching the roiling clouds.

  The inn looms before us, a Victorian structure that manages to look both welcoming and menacing. The clerk behind the front desk wears the same artificial smile as the others, but something in his eyes fights against the perfection.

  "Welcome to the Mill Haven Inn," he says, his smile twitching. "We have... one room available. Standard reality-proofing included. With one bed." His eyes dart between us meaningfully. "Last room in town."

  Aurora's tail lashes as she bares her teeth slightly. "He's lying. Place is practically empty."

  Confirmed: Multiple vacant rooms detected

  Storm intensity increasing

  Temporal anomalies detected in atmosphere

  Thunder crashes overhead, but it sounds wrong – like reality being torn apart.

  "We'll take it," I say, trying not to think about how convenient this single-room situation is. "Though I have to ask – where did everyone else go?"

  The clerk's smile strains. "Monthly town meeting! In the... basement. Very important. No visitors allowed. Here's your key!"

  As we climb the suspiciously clean stairs, Vesper tugs at my sleeve. "Mama, bad storm come when we try go bye-bye."

  Moira's form dims further. "A very convenient storm that forces us to stay."

  The room key feels too warm, like it's trying to meld with my skin. Room 222 stands before us, its door perfectly centered in a way that makes my eyes hurt. Inside, a single queen-sized bed dominates the space, its white linens arranged with unsettling precision.

  Analyzing room parameters...

  Comfort level: Suspiciously high

  Reality anchoring: Active

  Void resistance: Fluctuating

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Note: Those pillows are definitely watching us

  Additional note: At least the bed looks comfortable

  "Well," I mutter, watching as Aurora prowls the perimeter with predatory grace, "this isn't ominous at all. Just a perfectly normal town, with its perfectly normal underground meetings, and its perfectly normal storm."

  Through the window, the storm rages on, painting the sky with unnatural colors. Below, in the empty streets, shadows move in ways that suggest the town's "meeting" might be something altogether more sinister.

  Vesper creates a small void shield around the bed. "No bad things get Mom. Make bed safe now."

  "That's... reassuring, honey. Truly."

  Moira works quickly, her body glowing as she secures the room. Her hands draw simple patterns in the air that leave trails of light, spreading across the walls like a protective web.

  "Sealing the walls," she says, her glowing eyes checking every corner. "Adding shields... Aurora, can you lock down the windows?"

  Aurora's golden eyes narrow as she leaps to the windows, her massive form graceful despite her size. "Already on it," she growls, weaving protective barriers across the glass. "Though I don't trust those curtains. They're hiding something."

  Security Check:

  Walls: Protected

  Shields: Full power

  Windows: Locked

  Note: Room's safer than a bank vault

  PS: Still don't trust those curtains

  Vesper stumbles around, putting dark bubbles over anything that looks like it might be watching us – especially those creepy curtains. She settles on my shoulder, looking pleased with herself.

  Now that we're safe, there's just one awkward detail left – the single queen-sized bed sitting there with its perfect white sheets, looking way too neat to be natural.

  "I'll sleep on floor," Kali offers, suddenly finding the carpet fascinating. "Done it before, so no big deal..."

  A flicker of something akin to exasperation crosses Moira's beautiful face. "Don't be ridiculous. The floor is probably reporting directly to whatever's running this town. The bed is at least partially void-proofed thanks to Vesper." She pauses, "we're both adults. We can share a bed without it being... weird."

  I try to ignore the way my stomach flips when Moira says "we're both adults" – not from fear of the town, but from something far more complicated. These aren't exactly ideal circumstances to be sorting out whatever this thing is between us, most likely a one sided thing. Especially not with an AI, my chaos-eating daughter, and possibly sentient curtains as witnesses.

  "Right," I mutter, watching Aurora circle the bed with predatory focus. "Totally not weird. Just two people sharing a bed in a town full of pod people while reality-eating curtains watch us sleep. Perfectly normal Tuesday."

  Analyzing social dynamics...

  Subject: Kali

  Current behavior: Notably irregular

  Signs detected:

  Excessive carpet examination

  Unnecessary self-sacrificial suggestions

  Elevated stress indicators

  Irrational preference for surveillance-compromised floor over secure bed

  It's not even Tuesday

  Psychological analysis:

  Discomfort level: 89% above baseline

  Decision-making capacity: Temporarily compromised

  Note: Subject displaying classic fight-or-flight response to non-threatening situation

  Additional note: Carpet still suspicious, but less suspicious than subject's behavior

  Final observation: If awkwardness levels increase, may trigger town's perfection protocols

  Vesper makes a happy noise from her perch. "Me protect Mom. Eat bad things... if come close."

  "Thanks... I think, sweetie."

  Aurora settles into a protective crouch near the window, her tail swishing with amusement. "Perhaps we should give them some space," she purrs, her voice thick with knowing humor. "For security purposes, of course."

  Tactical retreat to corner advised

  Will maintain surveillance from safe distance

  Vesper bounces excitedly. "Make nest! Watch for... scary things. Keep Mom safe from... mean sheets."

  Moira watches in confusion as Aurora and Vesper arrange themselves in the corner. "Did I... do something wrong? You're all acting strange."

  Negative, simply implementing optimal observation protocols

  Suggest focusing on rest

  Will alert if curtains attempt consumption

  Aurora's rumbling purr of amusement echoes from her corner nest with Vesper.

  "Right," Moira says slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Because that's not weird at all."

  Note: Subject Moira remains oblivious

  Additional note: This is getting painful to watch

  Final note: At least the curtains are entertained

  "So..." Moira gestures to the bed, "do you have a bed side preference?"

  My brain short-circuits. Left side? Right side? Middle? Is there some fae bed etiquette I should know about? What if I pick wrong and the bed reports my poor decision-making to the town council?

  Analysis: Subject experiencing decision paralysis over simple binary choice

  Recommendation: Just pick a side. Any side.

  Note: Subject's heart rate increasing over bed side selection

  Additional note: Even the pillows are judging this response time

  "Left!" I squeak out in a voice that's definitely higher than normal. I clear my throat quickly. "Sorry, something stuck in my throat. Left side. Please."

  Moira's laugh sounds like wind chimes in a coastal breeze. "Are you sure? You seemed to give that question the same consideration as defusing a reality bomb."

  "Just being thorough," I mumble, still avoiding eye contact.

  We settle into bed, maintaining a careful distance that feels both too far and not far enough. The sheets are unnaturally smooth, like they've never known a wrinkle.

  "Kali," Moira's voice is gentle, her light dimming to a soft glow. "I know we're in a really precarious situation, surrounded by danger, but... is there anything else bothering you?"

  I think back to finally getting out of Wyldwood, when she revealed her true form. "You know," I say, staring fixedly at the ceiling, "you could have warned me about the whole jaw-dropping 'true form' thing before we left the Wyldwood. It's a bit distracting."

  "Distracting?" Moira asks, confusion evident in her tone.

  "Well, yeah." I gesture vaguely at her current appearance, trying to sound casual. "The whole 'living embodiment of the goddess of beauty' look takes some getting used to. Especially when you're trying to focus on not letting your reality-bending child sample the concept of Wednesday afternoon."

  From their corner, Aurora lets out a low, rumbling laugh. "Oh, you humans and your awkward flirting. Entertaining as always."

  Analyzing subject's verbal patterns...

  Deflection attempt: Noted

  Compliment disguised as complaint: Obvious

  Recommendation: Subjects should—

  "Not now, FRIDAY," I mutter through clenched teeth.

  Moira responds thoughtfully. "I suppose I could have given you some warning. Though technically, this isn't even my full true form. I'm still keeping it... contained. For everyone's safety."

  My brain helpfully supplies an image of an even more cosmically beautiful Moira, and I nearly choke on air.

  Warning: Subject's vital signs spiking

  Recommendation: Breathe

  Additional note: Perhaps avoid mentioning 'full true form' in future conversations

  "Contained?" I manage to squeak out. "This is contained?"

  "Mama heart go fast-fast!" Vesper giggles from her corner. "Pretty light make zoom-zoom... zoom my super nova girl!"

  I knew I shouldn't have taught her that song. I feel my face heat up. "Vesper, sweetie, remember our talk about inside thoughts?"

  "But true!" she insists. "Heart go boom like—"

  Aurora rises from her protective crouch, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement as she creates a pattern of dancing shadows on the wall. "Perhaps we should focus on the approaching storm, little one," she purrs, her tail swishing purposefully. "Your mother's cardiac activities can wait."

  Weather analysis indicates storm intensifying

  Recommend immediate rest protocol

  Note: Reality distortions increasing

  "The storm does sound worse," Moira says, mercifully distracted by a particularly loud crack of reality-bending thunder. She ripples with concern, sending waves of cosmic light across the bed. "We should try to sleep. Tomorrow won't be easy."

  "Right. Sleep. In this totally normal bed. In this completely normal town. With these perfectly normal sheets that are probably reporting our every move to some underground committee."

  Moira's laugh brightens the darkness. "The sheets are the least of our worries. It's the pillows you really have to watch out for."

  "That's not funny," I mutter, eyeing my pillow suspiciously.

  Analysis: Pillow surveillance status - inconclusive

  Recommendation: Maintain vigilance

  Note: Subject's deflection techniques becoming less effective

  Additional note: Guardian feline maintaining perimeter watch

  Aurora's warning growl tears through the silence, her powerful form tensing as she positions herself between us and the door. The sound jolts me from my restless sleep, and I realize I'm tangled up with Moira, her radiant essence wrapped around me like a blanket of light, my head somehow tucked perfectly under her chin. We must have gravitated toward each other in our sleep, seeking warmth in the unnaturally cold room.

  ALERT: Movement below ground

  Dark energy rising

  Warning: Town's forced-perfection starting

  Note: Not meetings - TRAP

  We spring apart, both pretending the intimate position never happened. There's no time to be awkward – the walls begin to shift and writhe, wallpaper moving like water as flowers twist into watching eyes.

  "Mom!" Vesper cries out, voice broken and scared. "Bad things come! Not-people all wrong! We run now!"

  Moira rises to her feet, her form blazing with controlled precision – just enough light to see by, but not enough to broadcast our position to the puppet-people below. "They're showing their true nature now. Kali, I need you to destabilize the ground while I—"

  The floor turns to liquid beneath us, but I'm already moving. Dark energy pulses from my hands, corrupting the town's perfect patterns. As a Void Sovereign, I can feel the wrongness of this place – and more importantly, how to break it. Outside, people emerge from underground, moving like puppets on strings, but my power makes the strings tangle and snap.

  "Vesper, shield now!" I yell as walls squeeze inward. My daughter reacts instantly, dark bubble wrapping around us as the room collapses. Aurora's muscles tense as she scans our surroundings, her tail lashing with agitation.

  "The town is a living entity," Moira explains while we huddle in our safe bubble. "It consumes individuality, forces everything to conform. Those people down there aren't people anymore – they're extensions of the town itself."

  "Me keep safe space," Vesper says, her shield pulsing stronger. "No let bad town eat family!"

  Aurora growls low, her golden eyes narrowing as she spots something in the distance. "There's a breach in reality to the north," she says, voice carrying a hint of sass. "Unless you all prefer becoming permanent residents of this charming little nightmare?"

  "If we can overload the town's perfection protocols..." Moira's eyes light up with realization. "Vesper, sweetie, remember that rule about not eating abstract concepts?"

  My eyes go wide. "Oh no."

  "Oh yes," Moira grins. "Time to create some beautiful chaos."

  "Want make big mess!" Vesper bounces excitedly. "Me help break bad town! Make all wrong!"

  The town shrieks as Vesper begins her work, not in pain but in outrage. Where she touches, perfect patterns shatter into wonderful disorder. Aurora prowls alongside her, her presence amplifying the chaos as she swipes at reality itself with powerful paws.

  "Numbers taste funny!" Vesper giggles. "Like ice cream but sideways!"

  The town's transformation isn't just physical – I can feel it trying to smooth away my rough edges, like sandpaper against my thoughts. Each step through the chaos feels like walking through setting concrete, reality itself trying to force us into perfect, prescribed paths. Moira's hand in mine anchors me, her energy a reminder that not everything beautiful needs to be perfect.

  Through Vesper's protective bubble, we watch in horror as the town's true nature emerges. The pristine streets crack open like eggshells, revealing a pulsing network beneath. But what stops my heart cold is the sight in the town square.

  Dozens of townspeople move in perfect synchronization, their bodies locked in an endless line dance. Left, right, heel-toe, spin – each movement executed with mechanical precision. Their faces are locked in those terrifying, unchanging smiles as they move to a rhythm only they perceive. Even more disturbing are the new arrivals being forcibly integrated into the dance, their bodies jerking and twisting as the town's influence reshapes them into perfect dancers.

  "Those aren't dance moves," I whisper, watching a woman's joints bend backwards to match the rhythm. "They're being reprogrammed."

  "The town..." Moira's voice catches, "it's using synchronized movement to override their individual will. Breaking down personal rhythms, replacing them with its own beat."

  A man tries to break free from the line, his movements desperate and wild. The other dancers don't miss a beat – they simply incorporate his struggle into their routine, their hands catching and molding him like clay until his resistance becomes just another perfectly timed spin.

  "Mom!" Vesper's voice cracks with urgency. "Town getting stronger! Want make us dance-dance too!"

  She's right. I can feel it now – a rhythm trying to impose itself on my bones, a beat that wants to smooth away all my imperfect edges. My feet begin to tap against my will, trying to find that horrible perfect tempo.

  Aurora lets out a threatening roar, her fur bristling as she positions herself protectively around our group. "This place is trying to turn us into its backup dancers," she snarls. "I suggest we decline the invitation."

  Warning: Town's influence reaching critical mass

  Perfection protocols at 89% power

  Those dance moves are definitely not optional

  "Now, Vesper!" Moira shouts, her form blazing against the encroaching perfection. "Show them what real chaos looks like!"

  My daughter lets out a gleeful shriek and releases a wave of pure disorder. It hits the dancing crowd like a tsunami of anti-rhythm, shattering their perfect formations. Arms and legs move in beautiful discord, each person suddenly finding their own wild beat.

  "Me make dance party!" Vesper giggles as she unleashes more chaos. "Fun kind, not scary kind!"

  The town screams in harmonic agony as its careful choreography dissolves into wonderful mayhem. Some dancers break into spontaneous jazz hands, others attempt cartwheels with varying degrees of success. One man starts breakdancing while another launches into an enthusiastic but completely off-beat Irish jig.

  Aurora purrs with satisfaction at the disorder, her tail held high. "Now that's what I call breaking the mold."

  "The breach!" Moira points toward a shimmering tear in reality, barely visible through the chaos. "It's now or never!"

  We run for it, dodging dancers who've given up on standing and are now just rolling happily through the streets. The town's influence reaches for us with desperate tendrils of rhythm, trying to pull us back into its perfect performance.

  "Almost... there!" Moira calls out, "Big finish... coming up!"

  The ground ripples beneath our feet, trying to turn our run into a synchronized sprint. But Vesper's chaos has infected too deeply – instead of perfect movement, the street breaks into a wave of impromptu dance floors, each playing a different song.

  "Jump!" Moira commands as we reach the breach, her hand gripping mine tightly. "And whatever you do, don't look back at the final number!"

  Behind us, the sound of a thousand people finally finding their own rhythm rises in a beautiful cacophony of freedom. The town's perfect dance falls apart completely, replaced by something wild and wonderful and entirely uncontrolled.

  "Bye-bye... mean town!" Vesper sings as we dive through the breach. "No more... dance-dance!"

  We tumble into reality, landing on a flat grassy area. Aurora prowls the perimeter, her massive form moving with predatory grace as she scents the air. She turns to us, golden eyes gleaming. "We're clear. Normal space restored."

  "Did good?" Vesper asks hopefully. "Made... pretty mess?"

  "You did perfect, sweetie," I assure her. "Just the right amount of chaos."

  Analysis: Escape successful

  Chaos levels: Returning to normal

  Town status: Having existential crisis

  Note: Subject still holding Moira's hand

  Additional note: Perhaps now would be a good time to—

  "Not. Now. FRIDAY."

  A cool breeze hits my feet, and I look down with dawning horror. "Oh no..."

  Analysis: Subject failed to retrieve purchased footwear

  Current foot status: Bare

  Note: Those boots were really nice too

  Additional note: At least the suspicious carpet didn't eat your feet

  "My boots!" I groan. "They're still in that nightmare town. I didn't even think to grab them when we—"

  "Mama feet... cold?" Vesper asks with genuine concern. "Me make... void warm!"

  Aurora circles around us protectively, her tail lashing with amusement. "Those boots were probably already dancing a solo routine by the time we left."

  "Or... tap-dancing boots that only know synchronized routines," I mutter, wiggling my toes in the grass. "Still, those were expensive. Three drops of morning dew don't exactly grow on trees."

  Aurora lets out a rumbling purr. "Next time, wear shoes you don't mind losing to sentient dance numbers."

  "No shoes... better than stuck!" Vesper says brightly. "We run... we free!"

  "She's right," Moira says, finally meeting my eyes with a small smile. "Though next time, maybe we pack an emergency escape bag."

  Analysis: Subjects finding silver lining

  Recommendation: Focus on successful escape rather than lost footwear

  Note: Town's dance ensemble is probably more creative now

  Additional note: Continually holding hands would have been ni—

  "FRIDAY, I swear..."