After a moment, Vesper wondered if she might be in the schoolyard just outside the broken wall of the gym. The grass she sat on seemed familiar enough, and her dress and shoes were still glowing from the powder. Vesper carefully rubbed her eyes, squinting from dizziness, and she saw nothing but swirling blotches of light in the jet-black air. Her sight was adjusting to the dark of the night.

    Star by star, her vision came into focus. The first thing she noticed was the sky. It was filled with an impossible number of tiny dots of light. The canvas of light hung low in the heavens, just out of Vesper’s reach. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch the lights, yet it met only the empty air above her head.

    Wasn’t the sky stormy? Vesper thought as she remembered the strange green-orange clouds and the thunder that rumbled in the sky above her house.

    But there were no clouds, no wind, and the air felt warm and comfortable.

The top branches of distant trees sliced through the starry canvas sky. A forest ridge rose high off the horizon and seemed to surround her in every direction except for one. The low vale playfully tumbled downwards, and Vesper could see stars reflecting off of a distant body of water that lay dark and still.

    As she sat, Vesper felt like the ground was spinning under her. She couldn’t even guess where she might be. It was obvious she was not in the schoolyard—the school was gone. While she waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dark, Vesper realized there were no other landmarks, no buildings or structures of any kind, except for a giant spiral that glowed where the tunnel had just been.

    She was in a clearing, a wooded valley of long grasses and flowers ranging in size from tiny bluebells to giant church bells. When her eyesight adjusted further and the light from the tunnel subsided, she noticed the flowers, grasses, and underbrush glowed, their scent was fresh and full, and filled the air around them with a luminescent, a subtle vibrancy, as if the colours were alive, pulsating, breathing.

    Then she heard a sound.

    Whispers floated on the wind to her ears like secret messages. Unlike before, these words Vesper did not understand, but they rang clear and bright, like chimes.

    “Is somebody there?” There was rustling a distance away. At the base of a small hill was a thicket of what looked like rose bushes.

Out of the brambles, a winged fairy appeared.

    She was slight and small, about the size of a kitten, and made of such delicate pieces she seemed to be loosely sewn together. The fairy had golden wings that reminded Vesper of a dragonfly, long tails of light wrapped around her like a dress, and long arms with hands and fingers that looked like stretched-out cotton candy. Her beautiful face glowed and she shifted colours from light blue, to violet, to pink. The fairy’s hair was made of wisps of golden light and when she smiled, her eyes became vibrant and beautiful.

    “What are you?” Vesper whispered in wonder.

    The fairy turned away from Vesper and spoke toward the hills. Vesper heard it's words, not English, but words made from precious sounds—like sounds trapped inside a miniature treasure chest that leak out as you open the lid:

    “Say-on eelta ta-htee.”

    The tone of her voice was enchanting, like a pan flute, and high like a piccolo. Soon, two more fairies joined her. Vesper noticed when they flapped their wings they transformed into blurs of light, like the wings of hummingbirds.

    One fairy broke off from the group and flew to the base of a nearby tree. Vesper thought he might hurt himself, but he stepped into the tree and disappeared into the bark as though there was an invisible door. When he reappeared in the same manner, he approached Vesper carrying something in his hands—it was a necklace with a bronze chain and a deep blue sapphire pendant wrapped in delicate wire. The shape of the stone reminded Vesper of a lantern. It sparkled like the twilight sky in the soft light cast by the fairy as he floated near her and placed it around her neck. Vesper realized that she was still wearing her unicorn mask as the fairy fitted the necklace up and over her horn.

    As the pendant touched her chest, she felt a wave of calm wash over her. Vesper was no longer in shock, her breath slowed, and she became more aware of her surroundings, of herself, like she was waking up from a dream.

The three fairies presented themselves to her and each spoke in turn:

    “We present this gift to the evening star, the princess unicorn, the first unicorn to come to our world for a thousand years.”

    “This necklace will protect you when you need it most.”

    “A gift for the daughter of the queen of the fairies on the day of her birth.”

    “Imbued with the old magic, by the fairy queen herself.”

    Vesper stared in disbelief and realized, whatever they are, they think she is a unicorn.

    “I’m not who you think I am; my name is Vesper.”

    The fairies bowed their heads when she spoke her name.

    “Vesper is the evening star, the source of our fairy magic, the one who shines in our moment of darkening, who brings hope to this shadowing world,” one fairy said.

    “Evening star, your arrival is a sign that all is not doomed to the shadows, all will not be swallowed in darkness,” another fairy said.

    “But this is not me, this unicorn—it’s a mask,” Vesper said as she tried to remove it.

    She reached back for the ribbon but could not find it. She attempted to lift the mask from her face, but it had fused to her skin—she could not lift it.

As she struggled with the mask, one fairy flew off toward the grassy hill, not too far away, repeating these words:

    “Froke toolay, toolay tenay! Froke! Froke!”

    She seemed to get more and more frantic, then paused and flew down to perch on top of the hill. With an air of determination, the fairy took a deep breath.

    “Frooooooke!” she commanded as she jumped up and down on the hill.

    The hill began to move.