Then I see it.
At the center of this broken, floating world stands a palace. Once carved from opal and ivory, it is now overtaken by huge, twisted fangs—yellowed, jagged, and riddled with dark cavities. They’ve ruptured the floating foundation and curl upward into a grotesque cage, wrapping the palace like the jaws of a hungry beast. The architecture within—spires of enamel, glinting crystal walls—still gleams faintly, but the beauty is smothered. Corrupted. Overgrown. Devoured.
Beyond the palace, a once-charming village clings to the floating terrain: tiny homes shaped like molars, shopfronts with awnings made of polished floss, and lanterns that once glowed with soft light. But the rot has reached them, too. Roofs sag beneath black plaque, windows are cracked, and the gentle white paths that once sparkled with fairy dust are now dulled and stained. What was once a place of dreams and quiet laughter feels hollow, as if the very magic that sustained it has been chewed up and spat out.
Through a jagged hole in the palace wall, I spot a smaller prison nestled within—a twisted cell made entirely of fangs, yellowed and curling inward like clenched fingers. Inside, slumped against the back of the cage, is a woman. Tiny, no larger than Queen Maple herself.
Her delicate wings hang limp at her back, one clearly broken. Her gown is tattered, her bare feet bruised and streaked with grime. Her glow—once surely radiant—is barely a flicker now, like a nightlight gasping for power.
“Oh no,” I whisper. “Is that...?”
“Yes, that’s the Tooth Fairy,” Queen Maple replies, her voice low and taut. “Her name is Sweet Root. And she’s alive... for now.”
Maple darts forward, flying low and fast, her wings a blur, covering the space between us and the palace impossibly fast. I run after her, ducking through a broken doorway into the once-magnificent palace. Queen maple flies straight to the toothy prison. I’m right behind her, searching for an opening through the fang-like stalagmites rising up from the palace floor.
“Sweet Root!” shouts Queen Maple, reaching her tiny arms in vain through the cage of teeth.
Amazingly, the beautiful, broken creature inside looks up and offers the barest of smiles… before her head droops once more.
Suddenly, a screech splits the air above us. I look up just in time to see two black-winged fairies drop from the rafters. Their bodies are long and thin, like shadow puppets torn from the wall. Tattered wings twitch at their backs. Their eyes glow a feral red. One of them hisses, its jaw unhinging far too wide to be natural, revealing rows of curved, needle-like teeth.
I barely get a shield up in time.
The creature slams into it, bouncing back with a shriek.
Queen Maple launches upward like a miniature missile, blasting through my shield in a blur of light. Tendrils of energy whip from her hands, forming glowing lassos that coil around the shadow-beings. With a sharp twist, she hurls them into the palace walls. The impact rings out like shattering glass.
More of the dark darlings drop from the shadows above—at first a handful, then dozens. They spill out from rafters, crawl from broken arches, unravel from the darkness itself. The air thickens with wings and hissing. I channel everything I’ve got... firelight, shielding wards, a push of kinetic force, but they’re everywhere. Swarming.
One of the little shits slams into my ribs. I stagger back, gasping.
Maple screams overhead.
I look up—and my heart twists.
They’ve got her by the arms and legs, yanking her in different directions like they’re trying to tear her apart.
I raise a hand, call fire, and launch a crackling blast. Two of them fall, but it’s like bailing water with a spoon.
The air is full of them now.
Suddenly, a bell chimes: clear and loud.
The air veritably glitters.
Something golden zips through a broken window, trailing a comet-tail of sparkling dust. The black fairies recoil. One shrieks and dissolves into mist as the radiant light engulfs it.
“Tink!” Queen Maple breathes above me, her voice tinged with relief.
And there she is... hovering in the air, tiny but fierce. Her golden hair whips around her face, that iconic green dress shimmering like fire.
“Need a hand?” she says in a tiny voice, grinning mischievously. Then, more serious, she adds, “One of your warriors found me. Slipped past the shadow guards and came straight to my forest palace in Neverland. I got here as fast as I could.”
Suddenly, she spins in midair like a golden drill, unleashing a blizzard of sparkling dust. Wherever it lands, darkness burns away.
Creatures flinch, stumble, fall from the sky.
But more keep coming... crawling from the walls, slithering from the shadows. Too many.
