It takes hours, but we manage to get past the fighting zone and into ghoul territory, which is damper and littered with basalt headstones. Dark, gnarled briars crawl everywhere.

But also, white flowers. Asphodels, like Moongirl mentioned. Plenty of them. They're the brightest part of this gloomy place, except for her. As we get to safety in the ghoul village, full of stone houses, she gives me a wide smile that makes my heart clench, but it's not an unpleasant feeling. My cheeks burn, and I can't help but offer a small grin.

The ghouls are wary and tired, and many of them have scratches and bite marks that need to be cared for. After a short rest, we decide to go on, since we're close to leaving the Underworld and entering the final stretch to Kadath. I'm not sure what to do next. How to actually access the sunset city. Carter dreamed it but never really found it. Only the Great Ones were there once. A key?

After saying goodbye, Roger stays behind with the other ghouls. Only Pickman follows, since he knows the land best.

The part of the Underworld we came through was full of guttural howls and screams. The slosh of dark water. Here, as we go through a field of asphodels, there are no sounds. Not even crickets or birdsong. Every now again, I see blue-ish souls in the corners of fungal caves, but they say nothing. Only lumber back and forth. As glad as I am that there's not any violence, the complete quiet is unnerving. Dampness hangs in the air, like purple moss lines the rocks like veins.

Eventually, Pickman guides us up a long incline, and the white flowers start growing less and less. A soft, silvery dirt runs down the hill. When I bend to feel it, I realize it's sand.

When we surface, the world is a flat, muted stretch. No violet moss and fungus. No creatures roaming around. We find a road engraved deep in the gray silt and sand. I listen for the ocean, but I don't hear anything.

Pickman says to me, "Looks like we're near the Leng plateau."

A collective sigh/meow/"What are you doing?" of relief. But that doesn't last long. Leng, after all, isn't known to be a hospitable place, even if we're close to the end.

A line creasing above her brow, Moongirl says, "I think we should avoid the villages and merely go straight to the cold wastes." She's right; the plateau veers into the Sapphire Sea, far to the left of us, and we need to go forward. But we still need to cross part of it, since to the right of us are mostly volcanoes, and none of us are made for lava-diving. Except maybe Moggy, who I feel like might secretly do it out of spite.

The bad thing about a world like composed of dreams and dead souls is that it changes. In some ways, that's good. Nothing is ever boring. But that means that maps only do so much; the map I have is essentially a mind-photo taken almost a hundred years ago, after World War I. So much has happened on Earth since then, and it and the Dreamlands are symbiotic. Strange dreams have spilled into forgotten cities under the ice in Antarctica. And this world changes, too.

So, it's not so easy to avoid the villages. But soon, I notice spires through the faraway mist, jagged mountains and turrets.

"There," I say breathlessly. We're so close to Kadath, and then, and then we can figure things out. I can really rest and let myself feel accomplished.

And we end up coming across a small plaza along the road. The road gives way to a small, staired dais lined with starry rugs. Two statues stand at the entrance, these vaguely satyr-like things with tentacles spilling out where their faces should be. The Great Ones, I think.

As we head up the dais, there are more statues. Some have carved eyes all over them like sores. I palm the amulet in my pocket. Lined around these granite statues are baskets and baskets of pomegranate seeds. Tall, small, woven with wicker and overflowing. These pomegranate seeds are bigger than ones on Earth, those fruits that only show up in grocery stores in the fall. They look like fat rubies, some as big as my fist.

On the horizon, I see smoke of distant fires; I smell it in the freezing wind and shiver. The pang in my gut is either fear or relief. Before, I never would've thought I could mix those two things up.

a tall, rectangular monastery of onyx with intricate carvings that curl and loop around each other. I don't recognize the language.

Moongirl pulls her cloak closer to her head, hiding her horns. "We shouldn't be here."

I touch her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head, worrying her lip. "This place isn't safe." She worries grooves into the dirt.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Okay," I reply. "I believe you. We shouldn't be here for too long."

The way she's acting doesn't sit right. And then I think of the Great One statues. They aren't like anything I've seen in the rest of the Dreamlands, even though so many places across here worship the Great Ones because they're under the care of the Outer God Nyarlathotep.

As we go along, the place keeps getting colder, the air going still. If a lot of the Dreamlands is in autumn, this place is on the brink of an eternal winter. And yet they still have fruit and flowers. And no snow falls from the white sky.

As we go, we run into a small market. The people of Leng are walking around, and they look a lot like Moongirl. In the stories kept at Ulthar, they were described as ghoulish, monstrous. But they're only people looking over baskets of pomegranates and honeyed black apples. With horns and hooves under their blue and silver chitons and stolas.

I freeze in place and face Moongirl. She almost runs into me. "Is this . . . is this your home?"

She gives me a pitying look. "The horns didn't give it away at first?"

"You don't look like a goat. More like, I dunno." A ram? The people of Leng were described as unspeakably monstrous. Weirdly curled ears, grins too large.

Those were the words of Carter, an isolated, shell-shocked man from Boston. It feels weird comparing people to animals, even people who have hooves or can turn into wolves. The more people think of others as less than human, the easier it is to dehumanize them. But in this place of dreams, what does humanity even mean? Does someone need to be human enough to be good?

Moongirl shakes her head. "You can't believe everything you read." She meets my eyes, all of ours as the others have stopped. "This is my home." Lower, she adds, "It was."

Pickman says, canine ear flicking when a blood-fly floats close to it. "I suspected as much. If anyone here grew hostile, do you think you could assuage them?"

Moongirl frowns. "I don't know."

I hold up my hands. "Wait, wouldn't they be looking for you?"

"I don't know," she replies, "it feels like it's been so long. And my village was only one of hundr—"

"Kore," a deep voice says. The patter of steps toward us. So much for stealth. One of the men is coming toward us, but his eyes are on Moongirl. And they're full of recognition.

"Is that your real name?" I ask her. Of course it is, but I don't know what else to say.

"I was given it, but no, it's not. Not anymore." When she looks at the man, multiple feelings flash across her wet eyes. Horror. Sadness. Regret. The skin around her eyes tighten, and I catch something like fleeting affection.

The man slows and, as we all tense, he leans and encompasses Moongirl in a strong hug. When he pulls away, he keeps his hands around her back. "Kore, we've been looking all over for you. We thought you were dead. Where have you been?"

"I just . . . Páppa, I couldn't do it, I couldn't . . ."

The man, her dad, leans back, and I see his eyes start to go cold. "You ran away?"

Shaking, she starts, "Yes, I—"

He grasps both her arms above her elbow. tightly enough for her to grimace.

I bristle. "Hey, leave her alone!"

A crowd starts to form around us, waves of serious stares. Not good. Some of the men and women slip out damascus knives, like the one Moongirl has.

"I can't believe you'd think to betray us." As harsh as his words are, there's genuine hurt. In his head, he's doing nothing wrong. "Do you know how much we missed you? How scare we were?"

Voice harder than I've heard, but deathly quiet, Moongirl replies, "And what if what you're asking of me is a betrayal to who I am?"

"Don't be so dramatic and selfish." Moongirl deflates at that. "Think about what the Great Ones will do if they're spurned for long. We cannot take another one of their centuries of wrath." She stumbles over her next words, and when her father lets her go, Moongirl falls to her knees.

Moggy chitters, anxious, and Caramel rubs her head on Moongirl's hand. Pickman's bag is arched, and he looks ready to strike if things get violent. Between all the people, I kneel beside Moongirl, who's breaths grow shallow.

She says to me in a small voice, fingers digging into her scalp, "I don't want to hold you back."

"You haven't," I say, voice breaking. "You never will."

"And besides, this is what I'm supposed to be."

"But do you want it? What do you really want?"

"I want you to be safe and happy."

Softly, I touch her shoulders. "Then, stay with me. Please."

This world where I can meet a girl on the moon and fall in love with her.

Fall in love? Have we done that? I don't know. I don't even know what love is like, the kind where you don't need to worry that saying the wrong thing will get you abandoned and shuffled around. But I want it. The chance to try. To learn. To have something that's real. Might not be permanent, but it might be.

That's all gone. And it's not just some self-pitying thing for me. That's lost to her, too. The choice.

A lump forms in my throat. "Do you want this? Really want this?"

Tears leak from her eyes. "No. I only want you to be safe from the gods, especially if you're carrying the amulet. It's not always easy having them focus on you."

"I just don't see the point without you." I know we don't understand each other very well. But that's what makes it worse for me. I wanted those years of learning who she was, of seeing her learn who she is.

"You started this journey without me. And you can finish it without me. Find your sunset city. A new home."

"What if that's not it, a real home? What if it's somewhere else?" I pause, biting the inside of my cheek. "Someone else?"

More tears fall on her cheeks, and I realize I've started to cry, too.