Shew turned around in a full circle, looking for Cerené but couldn’t find her. Shew summoned her as loud as she could. Her voice didn’t even echo, blocked by the ashes saturating the air.

“Oh, dear God,” Shew said. “Don’t let anything bad happen to Cerené.”

Shew ran like a mad girl through the Field of Dreams. Had Cerené passed out and become buried in the corn? The cornstalks stood high enough that she had to crouch down to look for her.

Shew ran in every direction. The cornfield was like a maze. Its yellow color was alarming to the eyes, misleading, insinuating a sense of being eternally lost, in contrast with the black ashes falling from above.

Suddenly, Shew stopped in front of something amidst the cornstalks. She’d never seen anything like it. There was a girl lying on her back, floating upon a small puddle of water. The girl wore a red dress, hands folded upon her chest like a mummy.

Shew knelt down and saw the girl was breathing and in a deep sleep. She had never seen someone sleeping so deeply, as if dead.

You slept like this girl once before, Shew. Try to remember. The whole Snow White story is about a moment when you slept in a coffin and were kissed awake by a prince. This girl reminds you of yourself!

Shew quieted the voice in her head. She couldn’t remember being kissed by a prince, nor sleeping in a coffin in the forest—the only coffin she’d known was the glass one in the Schloss.

There were two glass urns on the sleeping girl’s sides, just like the one Cerené was holding. One urn held a small amount of water in it, the other was filled with grains of sand which were more greenish than yellow.

Shew looked closer. The sand was rather sticky, and when she curiously tasted the water, it was salty—she spat it out.

Looking back to the girl, she saw that some of the same greenish sand stuck to her sleepy eyes.

“Hey!” Shew shook her. “Wake up. Did you see Cerené? Do you know if I am alive or dead?”

The girl didn’t respond. She was a comatose sleeping beauty.

Strides away, she came across another girl dressed in red, sleeping on a bed of water with urns on her sides.

A few steps later, she found another girl, then another.

The Field of Dreams was filled with girls.

“Cerené!” Shew yelled, panicking now.

Somewhere amidst the corn, Shew heard a voice chanting what seemed like nonsense. It was Cerené. The quality of her voice implied she was shivering.

“London Bridge is falling down,” Cerené chanted as it to a baby in a cradle. “Falling down. Burning down.”

“Where are you, Cerené?” Shew yelled, still running hysterically and avoiding the sleeping beauties she came across.

“Ring-a-round the rosie. A pocket full of posies. Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down,” Cerené was hallucinating. She sounded like she had suffered a blow to her head or something. “London Bridge is falling down.”

“Keep singing,” Shew said. “It’s the only way I can find you.”

“Burn. Burn. Burn,” Cerené chanted. “I’m a pleasure to burn.”

Finally, Shew found her.

Cerené sat in the middle of the cornfield, showered with ashes falling from the sky. She had her knees pulled to her chest, her hands around them, and her head rested awkwardly on her knees. She was naked, but covered with her own protective arms and the ashes stuck to her skin covering her bruises from the past. The fiery aura in her hair was stronger. Her hair itself looked strange, bigger and lush.

Shew approached cautiously as Cerené hummed her eerie songs.  She was shivering with teary eyes.

Touching her would be foolish, Shew thought. The girl had a temper, and all Shew wanted to do was help her. The least she could do was cover her with some clothes.

Shew ran back to one of the sleeping beauties and undressed her.

One girl’s dignity is another one’s shame.

Shew didn’t leave the sleeping beauty totally naked, she left her lying in her corset. She noticed the girl had her own bruises as well underneath, but there was no time to investigate that part.

Shew ran toward Cerené with the dress.

Her hair had changed into normal again, blonde, uncombed, and less fiery.

She knelt in front of her and looked into her eyes so she would recognize her and allow her to put the dress on.

If I could only understand why you’re crying now.

Cerené’s watery eyes scanned Shew’s ashen face like an infant looking for its mother.

“You’re alive?” Cerené squeaked then jumped to hug Shew. “You’re alive, Joy! I thought you were dead.”

Shew fell on her back, tangled in Cerené’s arms.

Cerené was sad because she thought I was dead?

“When the Wall of Thorns caught on fire, I thought you died,” Cerené explained, holding Shew’s face with her hands. “I searched for you everywhere. Where have you been?”

Shew remembered she woke up in the middle of the Field of Dreams, oblivious of how she got there. Who knew what really happened? Who burned the Wall of Thorns down and saved her? She doubted she’d get answers from Cerené. She had been saved as well, just like Shew, and neither had any recollection of what happened.

Resisting the tears in her eyes and Cerené’s overwhelming emotions, Shew patted her back and sat straight.

“You need to get dressed,” she showed Cerené the dress.

“Oh,” Cerené blushed as if she just noticed she was naked. “My dress caught on fire so I took it off, I guess.”

Shew didn’t question the authenticity of her story.

Cerené put on the dress, which was too big for her and ran like a little child through the field, celebrating the new dress.

“I love it,” she said. “It’s the color of fire!”

“You have any idea what happened, Cerené?” Shew stood up and asked politely. She wondered why Cerené saw red as the color of fire and not blood.

“What happened?” Cerené turned around, blinking as if trying to remember. “You mean the Wall of Thorns?”

“Yes, Cerené. Who saved me? What set it on fire?”

“I—” Cerené looked as if she was really trying to remember. “I don’t know. You started dancing and were about to be killed. I wanted to help you, but you said I should stay away. I didn’t know what to do. I kept screaming, calling your name. I even tried to find you but the thorns stopped me, and then suddenly…”

“Suddenly what, Cerené?”

“The Wall of Thorns caught on fire, and I … think I passed out.”

“Listen, you’re alive,” Cerené said. “That’s what matters.”

“You’re right about that,” Shew said, knowing she could have just died in her dream. “What really bothers me is that the Wall of Thorns considered me an intruder. I mean, I love Sorrow. I was born here. I’m the goddamn princess.”

“Your father is Night Sorrow’s son, Joy,” Cerené said. “You and your father are still a threat to Sorrow unless you control yourself, and take sides. That’s what the mermaid told me about you.”

“I’ve already chosen a side,” Shew said. “I will fight for the good of people, against all evil.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Cerené told Shew. “I mean you still feed on people’s blood. Don’t worry though, I’m sure the Wall of Thorns will accept you eventually. Besides, now that you crossed it, we can get the Heart’s third ingredient. Sand!” she waved her hands in the air.

“How so?” Shew had no choice but to go with the flow.

“Let me show you,” Cerené ran to a spot where she had hidden her glass urn and Shew followed her.

They walked toward one of the sleeping beauties then knelt down and brushed her hair softly. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she said in awe.

“All of them are beautiful,” Shew said. “Who are they?”

“The Sleepers,” Cerené said matter-of-factly. “They keep the Field of Dreams alive.”

“How is that possible? They’re sleeping and they look almost dead.”

“That’s because each one of them is enchanted to sleep for a hundred years,” Cerené explained.