Following the miniature figure a little deeper into the forest, I trail behind her as she leads me toward a small house that looks to be in an alarming state of disrepair. The roof sags like it’s given up on life, and the walls are coated in layers of grime that suggest it hasn’t seen a good scrub in decades. She flits through the door without a word, leaving me standing there, feeling awkwardly alone again—and more vulnerable than ever. It feels like the entire forest is getting a nice, long look at my unclothed butt, and I have the distinct sensation it’s having a good laugh about it.

I stand there, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, trying to fill the silence with something other than the sound of the breeze rustling through the leaves. Maybe now’s a good time to figure out if I’m still sane—or if I’ve well and truly lost the last marble rattling around in my head.

The forest, at least, is still as beautiful as before. No doubt about it, this place has a magical vibe to it. The trees around me, covered in ancient moss, seem to stretch up endlessly, their gnarled branches reaching out as if they’re trying to touch the heavens. The canopies are a brilliant tapestry of greens, but there are streaks of yellow, orange, and red starting to bleed in—like the entire forest is in the middle of a quiet, colorful transformation. "Huh," I mutter to myself. Must be close to the changing season. Even the air has that faint golden hue, like late summer slipping into fall.

Just as I’m starting to relax, something catches the corner of my eye. A shadow—no, a figure—swings through the trees, moving erratically from branch to branch. It’s far enough away that I can’t make out any real details, but what stands out is the fact that the canopies it swings from don’t even move. No rustle of leaves, no creak of branches. It’s like the creature’s weight doesn’t even register.

I squint, staring harder. What is that thing?

Before I can dive too deep into my thoughts, I hear a sharp "Oi!" from behind me, and I damn near leap out of my skin. My heart lodges itself somewhere in my throat.

I spin around, already knowing who it is—because, of course, it’s her again. The fairy woman stands there, arms crossed, her tiny foot tapping against the forest floor. She looks up at me with a mix of exasperation and something dangerously close to a motherly scolding. The kind that makes you feel like a five-year-old who’s just spilled juice all over the floor.

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“What the hell is wrong with ye, longlegs?” she snaps, her eyes narrowing in that deeply unimpressed way only a parent—or apparently a fairy—can manage. “Yer standin’ there starin’ off into space like a witless stump, and now ye’re gawkin’ at the shadows like they’re gonna give ye answers! Did ye think I was just leavin’ ye out here for fun?”

I blink, struggling to catch up. “I wasn’t—”

She cuts me off, shaking her head with a sigh. “Look, I’ve dealt with a lot of idiots in my time, but ye might be the most confounding one yet. Get inside before ye catch a cold—or worse.”

I glance back at the forest, where the shadow had been just moments before, but it’s gone now. Vanished without a trace. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, I’m not about to argue with a fairy who can probably turn me into something far worse than a toad if I piss her off any more.

I shuffle awkwardly toward the house, muttering, “I wasn’t gawking, I was just... curious.” But she’s already flitted back inside, leaving the door ajar.

I look at the little house, I could've sworn it wasn't as big as it is at the moment, I can fit into the little house, if I squeeze myself in there a little, the head just a little below my brow line.

As I step through the threshold, the house’s smell hits me first. It’s musty, like damp wood and forgotten things, with a faint herbal undertone that could either be tea or something far more magical. The interior is just as rundown as the outside—cluttered with books, jars of strange substances, and plants hanging from the ceiling. Despite its state of disrepair, there’s a warmth to it, an odd sense of comfort amidst the chaos.

The fairy’s already perched on what I assume is her chair, though it looks more like a collection of sticks bound together with twine. She gives me one last look, as if making sure I’m not about to do anything else stupid. “Sit down, longlegs,” she orders, pointing to a roughly hewn bench near the door. “We need to talk. Ye might not know what’s goin’ on, but I do.”

I lower myself onto the bench, feeling the wood creak under my weight. “I’m all ears,” I say, trying not to sound as lost as I feel.

She sighs, her wings giving a frustrated twitch. “Alright, Edwin Wallawak. Let’s start with the basics. Ye didn’t just fall here. Something—or someone—brought ye here. And from the smell of it, ye’ve got magic clingin’ to ye like a bad rash. Now tell me... do ye remember anythin’ about how ye got here, or who ye made a deal with?”

I swallow, the memory of that strange, endless figure flashing through my mind. “Yeah,” I say slowly. “I remember shaking someone’s hand... and then everything went black.” my eyebrows willow upwards in surpris, "Wait, how do you know my name ?"

Her eyes narrow. “That’s what I thought. Ye made a deal. And now... well, now ye’re stuck with the consequences. I know your name because of your status” She says like it's the most normal and not insane thing I have ever heard.