Wonderland

I set the autopilot for the typed set of coordinates.

Wonderland.

I reviewed the dossier on the center console. Threat Level: Moderate. Reality stability: Critical.

According to the reports, the Heartless activity in Wonderland wasn't just attacking people; it was attacking the fabric of the world itself. The "rules", as arbitrary as they were in that place, were breaking down. Sizes were fluctuating without potions. Gravity was becoming a suggestion rather than a law.

"Distortion," I muttered, tapping the glass of the cockpit. "Messy work."

The approach was nauseating. The space around Wonderland didn't follow the straight lines of the Ocean Between. The stars bent and twisted, spiraling into a vortex of kaleidoscope colors. I had to switch to manual control to keep the ship from tumbling end-over-end.

I breached the world's barrier.

Instead of a smooth descent, the Highwind was yanked downward, as if a giant hand had grabbed the hull. I fought the yoke, stabilizing the thrusters, and managed a rough landing in what the nav-computer labeled as the Bizarre Room.

The canopy hissed open.

The air smelled like tea, old paper and a hint of madness.

I stepped out onto the floor, or what could've also been the wall. In this room, it was hard to tell. The furniture was erratic. A table sat on the ceiling. A doorknob snored loudly from a wall that looked like a floor.

I summoned The Solar Zenith. The Keyblade hummed, its golden light the only constant thing in the room. I held it up, casting a Scan spell.

The feedback was a headache. The magical signature of the room was static, jumping all over the spectrum. Something was chewing on the logic of this world.

"Curiouser and curiouser..." a voice drifted from near the hearth.

I lowered my weapon and turned.

Standing by the fireplace, looking at a small glass bottle on the mantelpiece, was Alice.

She had changed since the records Sora had kept. She was taller now, the baby fat gone from her face, replaced by high cheekbones and a contemplative, intelligent expression. She still wore the blue dress and the white apron, but it fit differently now. It was tighter in the bodice, the skirt resting on the swell of hips that hadn't been there a few years ago.

She didn't look scared. She looked frustrated.

"Alice?" I asked, my voice cutting through the nonsensical babble of the Doorknob.

She turned sharply, her blonde hair swishing around her shoulders. Her blue eyes widened when she saw me. She scanned me from boots to coat to Keyblade.

"You're not Sora," she stated. It wasn't a question; it was an observation. Her voice was crisp, polite, British.

"No," I said, walking closer. My boots made a solid, reassuring thud on the wooden floor. "I'm Ray. A Keyblade Master."

"A Master," she repeated, tilting her head. "Does that mean you are in charge? Because no one seems to be in charge here anymore. Not even the Queen."

"I'm here to fix the distortion," I explained. "The Heartless are tampering with the world's core."

Alice sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Is that what it is? I assumed the world had simply finally gone completely mad. Look."

She pointed to the bottle on the mantelpiece.

"It says 'Drink Me'," she explained. "Usually, that makes one small. But ten minutes ago, it made the table invisible. And the cookie over there? It made the Doorknob sing opera."

She looked at me, her brow furrowed.

"Logic is failing, Master Ray. And as much as I enjoy a riddle, a riddle without an answer is just... noise."

I stepped up beside her. I was significantly taller than her. I could feel the radiation of the chaotic magic in the room, but around me, the air felt still. My presence, my "gravity", acted as a dampener.

Alice seemed to feel it too. She took a half-step closer to me, almost unconsciously. She looked up at me, and for a moment, the frustration in her eyes was replaced by intrigue.

"You feel... still," she whispered. "Like a book that hasn't been opened yet."

"I'm the paperweight, Alice," I said, looking down at her. "I keep things from flying away."

She bit her lip, studying my face. "A paperweight. Heavy. Solid. Unmoving."

She reached out a hand, hovering it near my arm, testing the air.

"Sora was like the wind," she mused. "Always fluttering about. But you... you are remarkably present."

"I need to find the source of the glitch," I said, keeping my tone professional, though I noticed how her eyes lingered on the breadth of my chest. "Do you know where the distortion is strongest?"

Alice folded her hands behind her back, adopting a posture of a student reciting a lesson.

"The Queen's garden," she said. "The roses are painting themselves, and the cards are shuffling without hands. If the chaos has a heart, it is beating in the courtyard."

"Then that's where I'm going."

I turned to leave, heading toward the small door.

"Wait!" Alice called out.

I stopped and looked back.

"I..." She hesitated, smoothing down her white apron. "I should accompany you. If the rules are broken, you might need someone who is accustomed to navigating nonsense. Besides..."

She walked over to me, looking up with a spark of defiance mixed with that burning curiosity.

"...it is dreadfully boring in here waiting for the walls to decide which way is up. I should like to see how a 'Master' handles the Queen."

I looked at her. She was innocent, yes, but there was a sharp intelligence behind those blue eyes. She wanted to learn. She wanted to understand the new variable in her equation: me.

"Stay close," I ordered. "And don't eat or drink anything unless I say so."

Alice smiled, a small, prim smile.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ray."