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and walked slowly in the direction she was told. Staysia looked over her shoulder at the bridge one last time and then faced forward.
    A Day owl’s eyes beamed from the interior of a Snow tree. Snow trees blossomed with fluffy white flowers that stayed abloom all year long. The tree bark looked like icicles that glistened in the sunlight.
    Day owls were white and were prone to camouflaging themselves inside the trees of white. Staysia just loved owls. They were certainly different than other birds; certainly a special kind of bird. At least they were to Staysia, who loved most animals, some more than others. “Who, who,” said the owl. “Hello Owl,” said Staysia.
    There were numerous Golden trees ahead of Staysia on the road. Golden trees had dark brown trunks and leaves of gold. They weren’t any taller or wider than most trees, but the golden leaves certainly made them stand out from most trees, and most of all, they were the trees that led to the Grandfather Tree.
    The Grandfather Tree was where the fairies lived. She was excited to visit the fairies. She had never been to their home before.
    She recalled a nursery rhyme her mother would tell her at bedtime. This is what her mother had said: “Through the Forest, just passed the Troll Bridge is where the tiny fairies live. Tis true they say ya get what ya give. Give to the Mother of the Fairies a fresh red rose. Hold it there just under her nose. The Mother of the Fairies will give you a sprinkle of red fairy dust, and when she does, put it in a tiny vial and wear it ‘round your neck. For the purity of the rose will guide you for always. So when you see the trees of gold, do go beyond them to the Grandfather Tree of old. Hold a tiny Fairy Princess in your hand—the sweetest and truest of all the land.”
    Staysia turned as something sparkled behind her just beneath the Snow tree where the owl was perched. A rose of red grew from the ground. Fairy dust swirled around it as it sprouted.
    The leaves folded over and as they did she heard tiny bells. The same sound that the wind chimes that belonged to her mother played. But it couldn’t be—the wind chimes were still there on her porch back home. Staysia slid down Isis and dropped onto the ground.
    She walked towards the rose, watching it grow and bloom, petal by petal. When it stood to be a beautiful ripe rose, she knelt on the ground and plucked the flower. When she did, it turned black and shriveled up in her hand. A thorn from the stem pricked her finger before dropping to the ground and decaying right before her.
    The owl spread its magnificently large wings and flew high into the sky. The sky blackened. The trees of gold lost all of their color turning black as the night. The leaves fell to the ground.
    Staysia walked backwards and stood beside Isis. She turned in a circle, looking all around her and up at the sky. She noticed the stars twinkling boldly in the sky. A single star shot across the sky and onto the ground, then another and another.
    Her face filled with terror. She realized all of the stars were falling onto the cold ground. A star landed in front of her and left a large imprint in the dirt then sizzled and evaporated. Staysia found herself dodging the fiery embers that fell from the sky.
    When they stopped falling, an ashen face appeared in the darkness becoming the only thing Staysia could see.
    Morbid and hollow-eyed, mouth tight lipped and round, allowing a serpents tongue to thrust in and out of its black lips. It had beastly, flaring nostrils and horns that jutted out each side of its god-awful pale gray, wrinkled and hairy head.
    Isis kicked her hooves in the air and neighed loudly. The sound echoed throughout the now black forest. Staysia waited for her to finish and wrapped her arms around the unicorn’s neck. She gently kissed her nose and moved her attention to the hellish animal-like face.
    “What is it that you want?” she asked in terror.
    “Mortal girl!” the male voice of the