Once upon a time, it was a perfectly normal day in the year 2025.
Of course, normal might not mean the same thing to you. When I say normal, I mean normal in this world—a world of fairy tales. Yet even here, magic is no longer as powerful as in the stories you know.
Magical beings have become part of everyday life. Inherited magic grows weaker with each generation, and artifacts like the magic lamp or the self-setting table are now little more than ordinary objects. Other enchanted items are nothing but faint shadows of what they once were.
Still, people have learned to live with it. Humans now live side by side with beastfolk, magicians, and witches—if they can even still be called that.
Perhaps it is time for a new fairy tale.
Ben Light had been lying in his bed for over an hour. It was 7 a.m. He should have gotten up long ago.
But why?
Why should he even bother?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Someone was at the door. Ben knew immediately who it was. The presence. The strength. Everything pointed to his best—and only—friend: Henri, descendant of Belle and Adam, better known in your world as the Beast.
The two of them could not have been more different. Ben was weak and skinny, while Henri was tall, strong, and muscular. Ben was poor. Henri was rich—unimaginably rich. And yet, they liked each other.
Ben got up, threw on some clothes, put on his most well-practiced smile, opened the door, and said,
"Hi, Henri. Sorry—I just woke up."
Henri giggled.
"Don't worry. I'm used to it. That's why I'm here. Come on, get in the car—school starts soon. I brought food for you."
Ben smiled, this time genuinely. They hurried outside, where Henri's personal butler, Lovran, was already waiting. The car pulled away, heading toward school.
Ben started eating. When he saw what Henri had brought him, he laughed. Henri really was a great friend. As Ben enjoyed his favorite food, Henri had the brilliant idea to make small talk.
"I'm starting to think I should get you an alarm clock for your next birthday," Henri said. "It's been almost six months now that you oversleep every single school day."
Ben paused, thought for a moment, then replied,
"You should try convincing your dad to finally give me enough money to get out of the ghetto. Five-euro noodles for dinner are getting pretty boring."
Henri looked down.
"You're right. But you know my dad doesn't like you. He keeps my money tight—120 euros a week. Sixty already go to paying Lovran to drive me to you without my father knowing. And another fifty for food for both of us."
Ben felt a knot form in his chest. He never meant to sound ungrateful.
"Hey, calm down. I didn't mean it like that. What you do for me is already more than enough."
Henri smiled faintly. Ben kept eating.
Outside the window, Henri suddenly laughed. Yet another idiot shouting about how humans should rule over magical beings—a sight he always found amusing.
Ben looked up.
"What did you see that's so funny?"
Henri answered quickly,
"You know—another idiot talking about total human supremacy."
Ben forced a smile, but he didn't find it funny. How could people be so self-righteous?
And he wasn't the only one who thought so.
One percent, to be exact—at least according to the party that claimed to speak for them all.
As if the gods of fate themselves had decided to intervene, the traffic light turned red. Ben was pulled from his thoughts as a man with a microphone stepped onto the sidewalk, his voice echoing through speakers.
"We are the H.U.M.A.N. Party!" the speaker shouted.
"We humans are the only beings in this world who have grown stronger with time. Every other creature has grown weaker—pathetic! But humanity rises! Again and again!"
"H.U.M.A.N.!" the speaker continued.
"Humanity United. Might Above Nature.
We are the future!"
The car began to move again. Ben hadn't even noticed they had stopped. The speech faded behind them, but the words stayed with him, echoing in his mind.
To Ben, even one percent was already too much. Even if it would be easier for him not to care—Ben could leave. He could live somewhere else. He could start over.
But Henri couldn't.
From Henri's perspective, it was different. He found it so pathetic that he didn't even bother worrying about it.
The rest of the drive passed in silence. Smooth. Uneventful.
Yet somewhere deep inside, Ben already knew—
This day would be hard.
And it wouldn't end quietly.
Nothing happened.
Not that evening.
Not on the way home.
Not even during the night.
It had been an ordinary day—another one without meaning, without incident. As Ben lay in his bed later that night, staring at the ceiling, he wondered when life would finally become exciting.
He scrolled through his phone. It was an old model, slow and scratched, but it was the best he could afford.
Just as he was about to fall asleep—
CRASH.
The bed collapsed.
Ben landed half on the mattress, half on the floor. He sighed and pushed himself up, annoyed more than shocked. But when he looked at the bed's leg, he froze.
It wasn't broken.
It was gone.
No splinters. No cracks. Nothing.
He looked at the rest of the bed.
Gone.
All of it.
Ben swallowed.
Too big for a pixie.
Too big for a goblin.
They could only make small objects disappear.
After thinking himself in circles, he grabbed his phone and called Henri.
Henri answered immediately.
"Hey—first, sorry for calling this late," Ben said. "Second… do you know of any creature that can make an entire bed disappear?"
Henri paused.
"I've heard old stories. Five hundred years ago, goblins could do things like that. But today?"
He hesitated.
"Why? Did something happen?"
Ben answered quietly,
"Yeah. My bed is gone. Completely."
They thought in silence.
Then Henri asked,
"Is your bed made of magical wood?"
Ben blinked.
"…Good question."
He switched tabs and searched for the brand. Hermes Woods.
"It says here it's a family business," Ben read aloud.
"They stand against cheap materials. Quality for everyone."
He scrolled further—half bored, half curious.
"The most famous member of the family was Benedikt," Ben continued.
"A woodcutter. A being of color. The legend of the Honest Woodcutter is attributed to him."
Ben stopped.
The text began to dissolve.
"H-Henri," Ben whispered. "The text is disappearing."
Henri inhaled sharply.
"I'm telling my father. If this involves fairy tales, he'll want to know."
They said goodbye. Ben lay down on the floor and eventually fell asleep.
Meanwhile, Henri ran through the halls of the castle until he burst into his father's chamber.
"FATHER! Something strange has happened!"
His father groaned.
"What could possibly be important enough to wake me?"
Henri told him everything.
His father stood up slowly.
"That is… troubling," he said.
"Tomorrow, I will meet with other fairy beings. We must find out what this means—and why it's happening."
Henri nodded and finally went to bed.
His father remained awake.
Just for a moment longer.
Was the situation truly this serious us magic behing a almost nothing more than normal humans becorce they started to take us for normal if they stop belving than we disaper?
The next day, Henri's father had summoned every remaining magical being of importance.
Now they were all gathered in the great hall.
Henri. His father, Heinrich. Paul, the last living son of the bloodline of Gretel. Marie, the last daughter of that same Hänsel. And perhaps the most important of all today—Franz, the final descendant of Benedikt the Honest Woodcutter.
Franz stood in the center of the room, furious.
Henri silently activated a voice recording. He would send it to Ben later.
"How can this be?" Franz shouted. "My family crafted furniture for everyone for centuries—poor and rich, human and magical alike! How can these miserable humans forget us?!"
Henri clenched his fists. He hated it when magical beings spoke about humans like that.
Franz slammed his hand onto the table and pulled off his glove.
The room gasped.
His hand was translucent.
"I'm starting to fade," Franz said—still angry, but suddenly weak.
He quickly pulled the glove back on.
Heinrich stepped forward. "Honored Franz, even if I understand your anger, we must remain calm. Humans forget—"
"That's nonsense," Henri interrupted. "Humans don't forget us. Something else is happening."
"How dare you," Heinrich snapped.
Marie spoke up gently. "Heinrich… I think your son might be right."
Franz looked up sharply. "You think there's another explanation?"
Paul nodded. "My grandfather once told me a story. His own grandfather nearly vanished because someone traveled into his fairy tale and killed him. But he and ten others entered the story and saved him."
Franz's expression changed. "So humans might be innocent?" A smile spread across his face. "I knew it. I knew I could believe in humans."
Henri thought: Wow. Mood swings.
Heinrich growled. "Fine. We will attempt it. I will file a request to use the Fabula Mediocris Iter Labe."
Franz raised his hand immediately. "I want to lead this mission. And I want Henri with me."
Heinrich hesitated. "Why him?"
"Because I'm more compatible with him than with you," Franz replied calmly. "And I would like Marie as well."
Marie sighed. "Franz, Paul and I would rather not be your last choice. We have urgent matters of our own."
"Fine," Franz said. "But we still need someone with intelligence and instinct."
Henri raised his hand. "I have someone."
"No," Heinrich interrupted. "He's only human."
Henri stood his ground. "Father. He deserves this. And he is exactly what we need."
Heinrich sighed. "Very well. But I won't be the one to mourn him if he dies."
Henri looked to Franz.
Franz smiled brightly. "We'll take him—if you trust him that much."
The meeting dissolved. Each member went their own way.
Henri sent the recording to Ben.
Ben replied almost instantly.
He was on bord!
After three days, Franz, Henri, Ben, and Heinrich stood together in the castle, discussing the mission.
"So," Heinrich began, arms crossed, "we'll use the Fabula Mediocris Iter Labe to travel into the tale of the Honest Woodcutter. Correct?"
Everyone nodded.
Ben hesitated. "I still have a question. Couldn't we just travel into the past instead?"
Heinrich laughed—annoyed, arrogant.
"No. One can only travel into fairy tales."
Ben frowned. "But what's the difference between a fairy tale and the past?"
Heinrich sighed. "Normally Henri would explain this, but I'll make it short. Fairy tales exist because humans believe in them. We exist because of that belief. For us to exist, the story had to come first. And that story is exactly where you're about to go."
Ben nodded slowly. "Okay… I think I understand."
Henri spoke up. "Can we go over what actually happens in the tale once more?"
Franz nodded and stepped forward.
"My ancestor Benedikt was a woodcutter. One day, he lost his axe in a river. The god Hermes appeared and offered him finer axes—but Benedikt was honest and said none of them were his. As a reward, Hermes gave him all three: the iron axe, one of pure gold, and one of pure diamond."
Franz exhaled. "Everything after that is irrelevant. As long as this moment happens correctly."
Henri and Ben nodded.
"Good," Heinrich said, placing the Fabula Mediocris Iter Labe onto the table. A small, glowing blue crystal. Beside it, he laid down a book titled Aesop's Fairy Tales.
"You must maintain the integrity of the story. You may speak with Benedikt if necessary—but no mention of the future. And not a word about your
lineage, Franz."
Everyone nodded.
They placed their hands on the crystal. Franz placed his other hand on the page and spoke:
Η ιστορία του έντιμου ξυλοκόπου.