Mikael opened his eyes.
The air was warm. Real. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no taste of dust, no echo of whispers. Just the scent of grass and rain, and the soft hum of wind moving through trees.
He wasn't alone.
Lina stumbled through the shimmer behind him, landing face-first into the grass. "Ow," she muttered. "Okay… this hurts less than I thought."
Elise followed, blinking in the sunlight. She turned in a slow circle, like she wasn't sure if this was still part of a dream.
"Is this… the real world?" she asked.
"I don't know," Mikael said. "But it's not the Dollhouse."
Last came Arielle.
She didn't fall. She didn't flinch. She stepped through the shimmer like she'd always belonged on this side of it.
Behind her, the doorway flickered once more, then vanished.
The four of them stood in a meadow that stretched toward a distant town—faded rooftops, quiet streets, and one familiar old bookstore sitting on the edge.
Mikael's breath caught.
"That's…" he whispered.
"Our town," Lina said.
"It looks the same," Elise added. "But it feels… lighter."
They walked in silence. No one ran. No one spoke of what they had escaped. It didn't feel necessary. The past still clung to them, but it no longer controlled them.
When they reached the bookstore, the bell over the door didn't ring. The shop was empty, dustless. On the counter sat a notebook. Blank.
Arielle touched it.
Her fingers left behind ink—deep crimson.
Mikael looked at her.
"Do you want to write it together?" he asked.
"No," Arielle said. "Not this time."
She slid the notebook toward him.
"You start," she said.
He sat at the desk. Picked up the pen.
Thought for a long time.
Then, finally, he wrote:
"Once upon a memory that refused to stay buried…"