Moonlight faded behind Mila as she slipped into the tunnel, its walls woven from tangled roots and glowing leaves. The fairy lights shimmered overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of gold and blue that danced along her arms. The air hummed with gentle laughter.
Tiny figures flitted past. Fairies—no bigger than Mila’s thumb—twirled in sparkling ribbons, trailing dust that smelled of honey and wildflowers. One perched on her shoulder, wings fluttering like stained glass. “Welcome, Mila!” it chimed, voice as clear as the stream in spring. Mila grinned, nerves fading beneath wonder.
Lira, her unicorn, nudged her gently forward, silver mane almost aglow in the tunnel’s light. Mila reached to stroke Lira’s cheek, comforted by the soft warmth. “Are you seeing this too?” she whispered. Lira’s eyes sparkled back.
Fairies formed a swirling arch ahead, inviting her deeper. Mila’s shoes brushed soft moss; the air thickened with the scent of dew. Every step revealed another marvel: a caterpillar in a velvet waistcoat, lanterns swaying from spider-silk threads, mushrooms with windows and doors.
Suddenly, a deep roar thundered through the tunnel, shaking the fairy lights until they flickered. Mila’s chest tightened. The fairies froze mid-dance, wings quivering. Lira pressed close, ears pricked.
A fairy with lavender hair hovered near Mila’s ear. “Don’t be afraid. That’s just... well, you’ll see.” But Mila caught the tremble in her voice.
“Is it the dragon?” Mila asked quietly, her own voice steadier than she felt. The fairies exchanged glances. Some drifted backward, hiding behind toadstools and hanging leaves.
Lira took a bold step, nostrils flaring as if searching for a familiar scent. Mila squeezed her unicorn’s mane and followed, heart thudding. She tried to be brave—brave like her parents, brave like Lira.
The tunnel curved, shadows pooling between the lights. Another roar echoed, closer this time, but with a strange, almost mournful note. Mila slowed. She wanted to turn back, but curiosity tugged her onward.
“Should I keep going?” she wondered, glancing at Lira. The unicorn nodded, urging her on.
The fairies gathered behind them, tiny faces anxious yet hopeful. Mila realized they were counting on her—on her courage to face whatever lay ahead. She straightened her shoulders, breathing the sweet, strange air.
At the tunnel’s end, a faint red glow pulsed. The roar rang out again, softer—a call, maybe, not a threat. Mila’s fear melted, replaced by an aching curiosity.
She took one more step. The fairies hovered close, whispering. Lira lowered her horn, ready to protect.
What creature waited in the crimson light? Mila’s heart soared and shivered all at once, ready for the wonder or danger that might come next.