Galatea awoke just as the sun dared to peek over the horizon, its light shy and uncertain, much like the day itself. She yawned—long and dramatic—and rubbed her eyes with both fists, as though determined to scrub the sleep from them by force alone.
Eighteen, she thought, smiling.
She decided then and there to surprise her parents with a proper birthday breakfast. The thought alone made her grin foolishly into her pillow.
Careful as a whisper, she slipped from her bed and reached for her old, well-loved fur coat. Dawn still carried its bite, and the cold clung stubbornly to the air. On tiptoe, she crept toward the door, pausing only to grab the small basket waiting faithfully by the wall.
Once outside, she released a deep sigh—half relief, half excitement—and promptly shivered as the chill of early morning found her. Pulling her coat tighter around herself, she squinted until her eyes adjusted. The world was still wrapped in shadows, but the familiar path revealed itself little by little.
Her gaze wandered over the land she had called home since birth. Below the mountain, the town's remaining nightlights twinkled like scattered stars, swaying gently in her vision. She smiled. Even half-asleep, the world knew how to be beautiful.
With light steps, Gala headed toward the forest at the base of the mountain, intent on gathering the special mushrooms her mother always cooked on birthdays.
Owls called softly in the distance, crickets chimed in steady rhythm. Before stepping beneath the trees, she turned back for one last look at the house—where her parents and Avin still slept peacefully.
I can't wait to see their faces, she thought, smiling to herself.
The forest welcomed her with deep shadows and towering silhouettes. Her steps echoed more loudly than she liked, and she cast a wary glance around. This was her first time venturing in so early—and alone. But then she noticed the tiny lights dancing between leaves and branches.
Her fear melted instantly into awe.
Fireflies.
She reached out, breath held, and nearly laughed aloud when one landed delicately on her finger.
"Hello," she whispered, as though greeting an old friend.
A soft sound—almost a hum—rose from the tiny creature, and in moments, hundreds more appeared, swirling around her in warm, golden light. Their tails flickered gently, illuminating the forest like floating embers.
Gala clasped her hands together and giggled. "Thank you so much," she said earnestly. "It's my eighteenth birthday, and I'm counting this as a gift."
The fireflies chirped in response.
"Oh, you're adorable," she said, laughing again.
Then, as suddenly as they came, they scattered, vanishing into the trees. Gala waved after them before continuing deeper into the forest.
She pushed aside branches and ducked beneath twigs, carefully navigating thorns and sharp grass. By the time she spotted the cluster of plump, familiar mushrooms, she was breathing hard.
"There you are," she murmured triumphantly.
She wiped her brow and sat for a moment, catching her breath.
As she did, the first true rays of sunlight pierced the forest canopy. Green upon green burst into view as gold light crowned the treetops.
"Wow," she breathed.
She watched in silent wonder, utterly spellbound.
"Nature really is both idyllic and terrifying," she said thoughtfully.
Deciding she had admired enough, Gala sprang to her feet and skipped toward the mushrooms.
She had just begun picking them when voices drifted through the clearing.
"Oh, by the King, could you pull harder?"
"I am pulling harder, you dimwit!"
"Well then pull harder than the harder, you idiot! The sun's coming up and we've barely filled our baskets!"
Gala froze.
She looked around. No one.
…Did I imagine that?
But the voices continued.
"Stop lazing around, Duffhill, or we'll get another scolding from Enma. Ugh, the nerve of that old man."
This time, the voice was unmistakably female—and very small.
"We don't have a choice, Puffhill. His Majesty appointed him," came a male reply, equally tiny.
Gala frowned.
Are nature spirits playing tricks on me? she wondered—uneasily curious, yet utterly incapable of leaving it alone.
"Together now," the female voice said. "One pull, then we return to Aelfrey before the sun fully breaks."
Aelfrey? Gala frowned harder. Where on earth is that?
A rustle sounded behind the bushes ahead. She knelt slowly and parted the leaves.
She screamed.
The two winged creatures screamed louder.
"Holy moly," Gala gasped. "Fairies are real?!"
"Duffhill, the human saw us!" shrieked the tiny female.
"You don't say," the male replied dryly. "I was there."
Despite the shock, they were still bickering.
"Oh my goodness," Gala whispered in awe. "You're real. You're actually real."
She crawled closer on all fours, eyes shining.
The fairies backed away several inches.
"So tiny," Gala breathed. "Can you fly with birds? With airplanes? Do you use pixie dust? Do you live in Pixie Hollow? What is Aelfrey?"
The fairies stared at her in sheer terror.
"Oh—sorry," Gala said sheepishly. "I might have overwhelmed you. I'm Galatea." She offered her palm politely.
Silence.
"…You must be Puffhill," she said, pointing gently at the female.
Puffhill nodded.
"And you're Duffhill."
Another nod.
"Lovely to meet you," Gala said warmly. "By the way, where do you—"
They bolted.
"Wait!" Gala cried, running after them.
"We're doomed," Puffhill squeaked. "A human has seen us!"
"They're not supposed to," Duffhill huffed.
"Why not?" Gala asked, catching up far too easily.
They shrieked.
"We're close to the entrance!" Puffhill cried. "She can't enter Aelfrey!"
"That's irrelevant," Duffhill panted. "The sun's almost up!"
Then—without warning—they vanished.
Gala skidded to a halt, spinning around in panic.
"Wait—!"
The world twisted.
A sudden force seized her, sharp and weightless, and pulled her forward.
Gala screamed as the forest dissolved around her—and the dawn swallowed her whole.