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.
“How so? And Why?”
“They are girl that had been killed by Carmilla,” Cerené explained. “Someone, probably the Sandman himself, brought them here. That’s why you’d notice they have bruises and wounds underneath their dresses. Some of them have bite marks on their throats.”
“Why did the Sandman bring them here?” Shew was curious.
“To resurrect them,” Cerené said. “The Field of Dream is a magical place of Art. It can resurrect the unrightfully killed.”
“But they are sleeping, Cerené,” Shew noted.
“Remember when I told you magic has a price?” Cerené said. “In order for them to live again, they have to sleep in the cornfield for a hundred years. They pay their price by feeding the field, and they wake up a hundred years later and get a second life. Until then, they are safe here,” Cerené looked at the Field in Between which was encircled by the Wall of Thorns from all sides.
She followed her gaze, spotting the part where the Wall of Thorns had been burned, “What will happen to the gab in the Wall of Thorns?” she said.
“I think it will grow back on its own once we leave,” Cerené said. “Come, let me show you what these girls are doing here,” she pulled Shew down to kneel beside her.
“You mean the price they pay for a hundred years until they wake up?” Shew wondered.
“You see the urns on both sides, one filled with water, the other with sand?” Cerené pointed.
“Yes.”
“The Sleepers are all dreaming. Think of them as plants in the Field of Dreams. They feed the Field of Dreams with their dreams. When they dream, they have either good dreams or nightmares. Those who have nightmares cry and produce the Tears of Beauty. Those who dream happily produce grit in their eyes, the way we all do when we’re asleep. The sand is called the Sands of Beauty.”