The party of three set out toward Nnoom. Froke led the way, and in an hour they were at the border of the city. Never had a world with so many unicorns needed one so badly. Statues were displayed around the circular perimeter of the city center. The statue they approached depicted Dauntless, the first unicorn, in a battle stance.

     “This is beautiful,” said Vesper.

     “These folks are art-smart,” said George.

     Froke smiled broadly, appreciating George’s rhyme.

     “The statues mark the border of the great dwarf city of Nnoom,” said Froke. “They possess the protective power of dwarf crystal magic. None shall pass who intends to harm another. If they do, they might go boom!”

     “What if I intend to harm the shadow dragon?” Vesper asked. She recalled her thoughts of destroying the shadow dragon and wondered if her intention to hurt the beast would count against her.

     “Froke’s guess, if the shadow dragon comes, it’s not protected by the magic of the old ones,” explained Froke. “The stones and crystals in the statues have memories of the one-time. They remember the first age, before the first shadow dragon came to Noominia, an age sublime. Passing through the invisible border, what your heart wants they see, and unless your thoughts are terrors, your visit will be jaunty. And if you’re not true, their light will poke holes in you. That’s all Froke knows.”

     “Poke holes? I don’t want crystals to poke holes in me!” said George. “What does that even mean?”

     “George noc is safe, and of course, the evening star,” said Froke, turning to Vesper.

     “Then what are we waiting for?” Vesper said as she stepped toward the invisible border with George following right behind.

     “Just one more thing,” said Froke.

     George and Vesper were already a few steps past the border and both of them froze on the spot.

     “Don’t go through too fast, your lungs might blast or bust. It is like rarified air—it takes time to adjust.”

     The unicorn, owl, and hill giant walked slowly through the border’s magical barricade.

     Thirty strides away, another party was crossing at the same time. They rode on a miniature wagon pulled by a tiny horse the size of a big dog. The couple who drove the wagon were of the little-people—the halflings. They looked quite human except for their size. As they were crossing slowly, allowing their horse only one or two steps each second, they stared angrily over at Vesper and her companions.

     “Go home giant!” the little man yelled. “You’re not welcome here! This is a celebration for good fairy folk, not murderous thieves!”

     Froke, who was used to hearing such comments, ignored them, but Vesper was furiously glancing between Froke and the little people in the little wagon.

     “Aren’t you gonna say something?” Vesper said finally.

     “Nope,” said Froke.

     “Looks like someone has a reputation, and it doesn’t sound good,” said George. “Honestly, I heard the same from the noc owls. What’s the deal?”

     “It’s not his reputation, thankfully, it was someone else’s mistake,” said Vesper, defending Froke.

     “It’s not one other hill giant’s mistake, it’s the giant mistakes many other hill giants did make,” Froke corrected.

     “But not all hill giants,” Vesper clarified.

     “Boo! Go home, giant,” the ridicule continued. “Take a long walk in a boggy swamp!”

     “What kind of insult is that?” George wondered aloud with a half-smile.

     “These little-people know that hill giants are big and strong, but in a swampy bog we won’t last long. We sink to the bottom of the mire and the muck, there’s no escape for us, not without magic or luck,” Froke said.

     “So not a terrible insult, then,” George said.

     “Raider!” The little people yelled.

     “Pirate!”

     “Killer!”

     They rolled along slowly, getting farther away from Froke, driving their small wagon in a different direction.

     “So that’s how I lost you when I was sleepwalking,” Vesper realized. “Somehow I walked into a marshy swamp, somewhere you’d never go.”

     “Froke can’t go near the swamp. Froke could be swallowed by the ground with one wrong step, one wrong stomp,” said Froke.

     “Looks like we’re about half-way through the border,” George noticed.

     Ten steps later, Vesper felt lightheaded. “I think I’m . . . I’m . . .” she sat down.

     “You okay?” asked Froke.

     She closed her eyes.

     The next thing Vesper heard was George’s voice. “Vesper. Vesper. Wake up!”

     Vesper has blacked out. She opened her eyes, then closed and opened them again. Her head was resting on George’s lap and he was fanning her face with his feathers to help her breathe more easily. 

     “There you are! I think you passed out. Must be the forcefield. Hey, Vesper? You okay? I guess you really do want to kill that dragon, or maybe those little people.”

     “No, no, I’m okay, let’s keep going,” Vesper said as she sat up and then got to her feet.

     When they reached the other side safely, no one else fainted, yet they all felt like sitting to rest for a moment. 

     “How about the sky?” wondered Vesper. “Couldn’t the shadow dragon just fly over the border?”

     Froke didn’t answer, but looked up for a moment as they began to walk again toward the center of Nnoom.

     “So, where is the city exactly?” George wondered. “I mean, I see the buildings, but is that it?” They had passed the border and the forest began to thin. Up ahead, they could see low structures, some tents and huts, but nothing he or Vesper would call a great city.

     Finally, they reached a clearing that shone with the glow of many fairies. The sun’s rays intensified the light as the golden-pink sliver scraped across the horizon. In this magical oasis they saw vast fields of flowers and grass, dotted with stalls selling their wares.

     Dwarfs and other fairy folk were finishing the construction of tents and wooden vendor stalls in preparation for the festival—The Day That Is Night was coming soon. Most of the buildings were complete and vendors were busy filling them to the brim with all sorts of interesting Noominian foods, art and magical objects. The unicorn festival would soon be officially underway, and fairy folk of all kinds would gather around bonfires, playing games and music, singing, dancing, and celebrating.

     “Most of the city is underground,” said Froke, “above, the Unicorn Festival abounds, here in the fields and the surrounding woods, and there the vendors sell their goods. The fairy moon rises over this city until it fills the sky with light. It gets brighter and brighter until it can’t get any lighter. Then when the sun rises, all the fairies fly off, the air filled with dancing skylights, a bit of a show-off.”

     “Like fireworks,” observed George.

     Froke nodded.

     As the small band of three friends walked past the fairy folk, the presence of a hill giant was noticed. Vesper was able to blend much more easily amongst the many unicorn masks worn by many. People stopped their work to watch them pass. Some whispered and pointed, and some commented loudly. Some spit on the ground, and some hid in fear.

     But Vesper was silent. She was distracted. 

     “Why so quiet?” George asked.

     “Just a little nervous,” said Vesper.

     “I know, all this attention can be really unnerving. These folks really don’t like Froke,” said George.

     “Froke will wait, close by the festival gait,” said Froke, and he turned back toward the gate. Froke was quite aware of the discomfort his presence was bringing to the festival-goers.

     “It’s not the attention,” said Vesper, “—although do I feel sorry for the way these people see Froke. It’s something else.”

     “Well, spit it out! What’s going on? This is the most amazing, colourful, magical place anyone could imagine, ever, and you look like you are going to a funeral! . . . Oh—I’m sorry,” said George, immediately regretting his words, remembering Vesper’s mother’s funeral was only two-and-a-half months ago.

     “It’s okay. It’s not my mother that's bothering me. Well, actually, it is my mother, but more like I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that she's alive, not that she died. What would I say to her? How did she live this double life and not tell me?”

     “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

     “Actually, there is. Can you gather as many illumees as possible? We might as well start now. A whole cart would be great, if you can manage it. I’ll go look for a tent we can rent.”

     “Sure thing,” said George. “Oh. But I don’t have any money. Do they have money here? Do they even cost anything?”

     “Good point. Here, take this,” said Vesper as she removed her necklace.

     “Are you crazy? This is the necklace that saved your life! Twice! It’s a magic necklace. That is too important to give away.”

     “Getting those illumees is important to me.”

     “What’s your plan?” asked George.

     “When the time is right, I want to do an experiment. We’ll need as many illumees as we can find, and somehow get the kobalins to eat them. Maybe we could wrap them in slugs, or eels. What do they eat, anyway?”

     “No idea,” said George. “Whatever they eat it’s probably gross. Do you think you can save that girl? You can’t save everyone, you know. You have enough on your plate with the shadow dragon.”

     “I think this discovery about the kobalins is just as important as stopping the shadow dragon. This is something you could be in charge of, and I will have to deal with the dragon. The dragon is nowhere to be found. It was days ago it happened to land where I was, again with tons of illumees around, and fairy folk.”

     “You mean just like the unicorn festival? Do you think it will come here, get through the barrier?” George asked.

     “Froke didn’t seem to think so. Well, he didn’t say anything when I asked, but he wouldn’t come if it was dangerous,” Vesper said.

     “I don’t mind helping you gather illumees,” said George, “but you’re not trading that necklace to help kobalins! Trust me about this, I spent the last who-knows-how-long chasing and fighting those things. But don’t you think I’d be more help fighting the shadow dragon? Why try to face it alone when you don’t have to?”

     “But I do have to,” said Vesper. “It’s a prophecy. It’s my fate.”

     “Why don’t you just choose something different? Make your own fate?”

     “I don't think it works like that. If I can’t face the dragon alone, I won’t defeat it. It’s like the saying: courage begets courage. I realized that if I hide, if I’m afraid, we’ve lost before we’ve begun, and I’ll never see my mother again.”

     “Just so you know, I’m ready to fight with you. Just say the word.”

     “Thanks, George. That means a lot,” said Vesper. “The kobalins seem to be more of a problem than the dragon. . .”

     “I wouldn’t say that, but I get it,” said George. “We need to face the shadow magic on all fronts at once. Let’s meet back at the gate in an hour.”

     With a renewed sense of purpose, George went to find out everything he could about the illumee vendors in the festival market, and the bare necessities about the eating habits of kobalins.

     Vesper secured the necklace back around her neck and walked toward another group of vendor huts. She saw that some specialized in magical artifacts like wands, potions, or crystals, and others were selling magic boxes, maps, or  small scrolls filled with prophecies. Vesper thought of her grandfather’s book, which she’d left back in the gym, and how much she wished she could read more now.

     As luck would have it, she soon approached a stall called Maïcher’s Maps & Prophecies. Just as Vesper passed in front of the stall, the vendor popped up from behind the table to greet her.

     “Hello, there,” Raiden Maïcher said from behind his full beard. He stood nearly as tall as Vesper and was dressed in puffy, striped clothes. “Wow, look at that costume. You could pass for the real deal around here. How can I help you?”

     “I’d like to read the prophecy. The one about Dauntless,” said Vesper.

“Ah yes, Chronicles of the First Age. I have that right here.” He picked up a scroll from a box on the counter of his stall and handed it to Vesper. “This is important reading for a unicorn.”

     “Yeah, and for someone whose school got stabbed by Dauntless’s horn.”

     The vendor laughed.

     “I’m not actually kidding, but whatever.”

     “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. I laughed because of how impossible that is. You see, my young friend, the battle between Dauntless and the dragon happened so long ago, long before any of us were here. If you were a witness to that, you would be much, much older now. Impossibly old. Even older than me!”

     “For me it was about three days ago, but it feels like a month.”

The vendor laughed again. “Fascinating! Where did you get a costume like that? My kids would love to know. They always dress up for the unicorn festival.”

     Vesper laughed nervously, “Just from. . . where I live.”

     “Wait here for a minute, would you? I’ve got something I think you’ll like.” The vendor went out the back door of the stall watching her as he went, and holding up a finger as if to ask her to wait. Vesper got a strange feeling, so when the vendor was out of sight, she sprinted away with the scroll. She realized she had just stolen something, so she darted into a crowd and then ducked behind a row of stalls.

     The vendor returned a few moments later with a large, hooded man dressed in deep-blue robes. “I'm so sorry to have wasted your time, Master Zonder. It seems the unicorn has left,” Reiden said.

“Not to worry, Reiden, you have done well for the Order. Continue to mind the shop and find me—only me—if you see the unicorn again,” Zonder said, as he slipped a Noominian coin into his hand.

     “Of course, Master,” Reiden said with a bowed head.

     “Did you say ‘unicorn’?” a voice said from down low. “I lost my unicorn, too! Perhaps you seen her?”

     Zonder and Reiden stopped and looked down to find a robed mottonballie addressing them.

     “And who are you, young mottonballie?” Zonder asked, quite interested in finding the lost unicorn.

     “I’m Fanderblathe the Ef, escort to and protector of the evening star. It seems she’s disappeared, left her entourage, and the protection of my caravan.” Fanderblathe gestured toward his caravan of boofaloo and humdingies which was parked a few stalls away. “I have seven boofaloo! Do you know how expensive that is? I could give you a great price on one, if you help me find the unicorn princess!”

     Zonder glanced at Reiden and  then left without a word, disappearing into the bustling crowd of fairy folk.

     “Sorry, friend,” offered Raiden. “We haven’t seen any unicorns, except for all the hundreds of masks in the crowd! You know where you are, do you not? And if not, care to buy a map?”

     Fanderblathe scoffed and left in a hurry.

     “A scroll, then?” Raiden called after him.