The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts-Chapter 111: Weird Dreams

Meanwhile, while everyone thought their girl was dying, she was having fun in her own world.

She wasn’t gasping for air. She wasn’t crying for help.

Nope. Isabella was busy fighting a literal three-headed chicken that breathed fire.

"Will you just DIE already?!" she yelled, ducking another blast of flames as she hurled a glowing spear straight into one of its beady red eyes.

The damn thing squawked like a demon on steroids and regenerated the eye instantly.

"What kind of overpowered poultry—?!" she growled, already running again.

The ground below was golden sand, but the sky? Pink. Literally pink. With floating jellyfish and upside-down rain.

"Yeah, I’m totally dead," Isabella muttered as she backflipped onto a floating rock.

A voice echoed around her.

"You haven’t died yet."

"Oh, shut up, creepy voice, that reminds me of Bubu!" she yelled, throwing her arms in the air. "Where were you when this demon chicken tried to roast my eyebrows?!"

"You’re trapped in the residuals of your own spirit. You must find the way out."

"Right, because that clears it up," she said sarcastically.

The fire-chicken screeched again.

She sighed. "Can I at least get a break? A snack? A potion? A—"

BOOM.

The chicken exploded. Literally. Out of nowhere.

And from the ashes... stepped a goat.

A goat. Wearing sunglasses.

"I’ve officially lost my mind."

The goat snorted. "Nah. You’re just floating between consciousness and death. Classic middle realm stuff. Been there."

"...You talk."

"Yup."

She blinked at it. "You’re not going to try to kill me, are you?"

"Not today. I’m your spirit guide. Name’s Fred."

"Fred."

"Yup."

And just like that, she was suddenly calm. Because apparently, this insane world—with spirit chickens and talking goats—was her brain’s way of "coping."

Back in the real world, her fingers twitched.

Back in the icy room, her eyelashes fluttered, ever so slightly.

But in her world, she followed Fred the goat as he explained The Path of Waking and why she needed to find her "core memory" to get back.

"Let me guess. It’s hidden in a giant flower guarded by laser bees?" she muttered.

Fred tilted his head. "Actually, yes."

"Ugh. Of course it is."

Isabella didn’t get long to enjoy her goat guide.

Because the bees showed up.

Not just any bees.

Laser. Bees.

"I KNEW IT!" she shouted, ducking behind Fred as a laser beam sizzled past her face and melted a floating jellyfish.

"Don’t look at me," Fred said casually, already galloping away. "I gave you a head start."

"FRED!"

But the goat was gone.

She grabbed a rock—nope, it was a puffball mushroom—it exploded into glitter.

"Are you freaking KIDDING ME?!"

The bees were coming in fast, eyes glowing like tiny murder-bulbs, buzzing with demonic energy. She ran. Tripped. Rolled.

Suddenly the dream realm shifted again. Trees burst out of the ground. The sky snapped from pink to blood orange. Her clothes changed too—now she was wearing a warrior outfit made of... grilled cheese?

"What kind of fever dream am I IN?!" she screamed.

The bees were relentless.

She ran until her lungs screamed. Until the trees turned into mirrors. Until her own reflection stepped out of one and said:

"You don’t belong here."

"Excuse me? This is MY coma!"

But her reflection lunged at her—like, full ninja kick to the chest.

Isabella fought like hell. Elbows, knees, biting, yelling, "I AM THE MAIN CHARACTER!"

It didn’t matter. The reflection was too fast.

Everything blurred. She fell again—down, down, through the sky. Through colors and stars and fragments of memories.

She saw her seventh birthday. The first time she kissed someone. The time she ate a bug on a dare.

All flashing by in a neon slideshow of "why is this happening?!"

Then she landed. Hard.

In a forest made of glass.

And there... right in the middle... was the flower. Glowing, pulsing. Guarded by a single, massive, three-story tall rabbit.

With horns.

"Of course," she whispered. "Of course it’s a hell rabbit."

She charged anyway.

She was done being scared. She’d fought demon poultry, betrayal bees, evil mirrors, and—okay, maybe she wasn’t exactly winning, but damn it she was trying.

She leapt for the flower, grabbed it—

And the horned rabbit opened its mouth and screamed.

Her head exploded with sound. Her body jolted like she’d been zapped by a god.

And suddenly, everything was cracking. The world was shaking. The flower dissolved in her hands.

"I’m not ready!" she shouted.

But the ground split beneath her.

And she was falling—

Down, down, spinning into black—

Then everything went still.

---

She passed out.

...

"Bella. Bella!"

Someone was slapping her cheek. Not hard. Just annoying enough to make her consider biting.

"Stop hitting me," she muttered, eyes fluttering.

Everything was too bright. Too loud. And why did it smell like hairspray?

"She’s awake!"

That voice—Rachel?

"Water! Someone get her water—oh my god, Bella, you literally passed out mid-line!"

A bottle was shoved in her face. Cameras clicked. People shouted over each other. A boom mic almost smacked her forehead.

"What..." she croaked, propping herself on one elbow, "...in the name of Beyoncé just happened?"

"You fainted, babe!" Rachel, her manager-slash-bestie, crouched beside her in full panic mode. "One second you were screaming about a demon rabbit, the next—boom. Floor."

Bella blinked.

She was lying on fake grass. The makeup crew hovered behind Rachel. A camera was still recording. There were lights, props, someone holding a glitter cannon.

And she was in a warrior outfit made of... grilled cheese?

No. Wait.

That was a dream.

This was the real world.

Wasn’t it?

"Where’s Fred?" she blurted.

"Who?"

"The goat!" she sat up too fast, head spinning. "And the bees—and the giant rabbit, and—did I... was I kidnapped?"

Rachel stared at her. "You’re literally on set, Bella. For Savage Planet Season 2. You were doing your monologue about reclaiming the Crystal Moon when you just—collapsed."

"Wait..." Bella looked around. Same set. Same ridiculous sci-fi costume. Same crew scrambling to pretend they weren’t watching her lose her mind.

"Are you okay?" someone whispered. "Did she hit her head? Should we call someone?"

"I’m fine!" Bella said, way too loud. Then blinked. "I think."

She touched her face. Her hair. Everything felt real. Too real.

"Was I dreaming? Or was that... something else?"

Rachel handed her the water. "I told you not to skip breakfast. You’re always dramatic when you’re hungry."

"I just fought a horned rabbit in a glass forest, Rachel."

"You screamed at a green screen and passed out. Close enough."

Bella dragged herself upright, ignoring the producer flapping nearby with a worried frown and a clipboard. She squinted at the light above her.

No floating jellyfish. No evil mirror clones. No Cyrus. No Kian.

Back to reality.

Or whatever this was.

She pressed a hand to her chest.

Her heart was still racing. Her fingers shook. But she was awake.

She was back.

And she had no idea how.

"Do I at least look good on camera?" she asked, deadpan.

Rachel sighed. "Always."