It was the first thought that sprang into Yvori's mind as she slowly opened her eyes. The sky should have been blue, the same light blue as her fur, in fact, with little white clouds scampering across it like hopping Snowbunnies.

The Mynci lay there for a minute, still staring at the leaden grey sky in bewilderment. Where was everyone? Yvori and her friends had been setting up a maypole to celebrate the start of spring, but she couldn't hear the chatter of her friends' voices at all. In fact, everything was eerily quiet.

Putting a paw to her forehead, Yvori slowly sat up. All around her, the land was desolate and as grey as the sky above. She almost cried out in shock. Worse than that, though, was the crushing sadness that dropped over her like a heavy velvet cloak. After the joy that the springtime picnic had inspired in her, the sadness felt even more shattering.

The Mynci forced back her tears, rising unsteadily to her feet. "I have to figure out how to get back to the others," she told herself, trying to sound brave, even though in her heart, she knew that she'd never see them again... she'd always be alone...

"What's wrong with me?" she asked aloud. Yvori was well known for her eternal optimism, but now everything just felt hopeless. She reached up to wipe away the tears that had finally overflowed and really did cry out when she saw that her paw was no longer the vibrant blue she was used to. It was now a dreary, stony grey.

"What's going on?" Yvori shouted. She received no reply; not even an echo came back to her from that grey land. "Who did this to me..."

But there was no denying the obvious. Yvori had turned grey.

She felt an overpowering urge to cry. She didn't deny it. What was the point?

Why is the world so unfair? Who could have done this to me?

The rain was cold, albeit not very torrential, and all Yvori could think of was how horrible it felt on her fur. Her bloodshot eyes raked her yard. I never realized it was so ugly, she thought in wonderment. The trees looked a little like Zomutts, the leaves hanging listlessly from their droopy grey branches. The grass looked unhealthy and dull. The flowers in her garden were bent over, their petals bending down as if they were crying.

There wasn't another Neopet in sight...

She almost didn't see the Grey Faerie, as she blended into the dreary, colorless surroundings. She was leaning up against a tall, dull tree. The faerie sat head in hands. She hadn't noticed Yvori. Her long, tattered dress was dull, albeit with a hint of purple. Her hair was colorless and unkempt. Even her pale skin was grey-hued.

Despite the wave of misery and indifference that swamped her, Yvori felt a strand of her usual curiosity stirring within her. What was a Grey Faerie doing on her lawn?

Was she the one that had made her Grey?

Striding through the droopy, squishy grass, the Mynci made her way over to her guest. "Who are you?" she asked simply.

The Grey Faerie looked up, lowering her hands. Her bloodshot eyes were miserable.

"I was once known as Fyora..."

Had this revelation been thrust upon her a mere day ago, Yvori would have reacted with shock; springing into action, asking questions, seeking answers.

Now she merely sighed. It seemed like so much effort to even consider Fyora’s response. Idly the Mynci sunk to the pallid, listless grass, the weight of her head heavy as she rested it upon dull paws.

Might as well ask about it. Nothing better to do. Nothing ever better to do...

“Used to?”

Fyora glanced up. Somewhere, in the back of Yvori’s mind she hazily recalled that the faerie’s gaze was famed to be the color of violets. Now it seemed dull and tarnished, each delicate iris rimmed with red. Had she been interested enough to care, the Mynci would have found Fyora’s eyes rather unappealing.

If I cared...? I used to care about everything; first to help a friend in need, daily trips to donate to the money tree... I need to shake this off!

“I was once known as Fyora. But the name doesn’t seem to fit anymore.” The faerie spoke as if sighing, the response slipping from soft lips like a faint whisper, soon snatched by the drizzling rain and forever lost.

Yvori uttered a weary sigh, rolling her eyes lazily. Had this heavy veil of sorrow affected the Faerie Queen’s brain?

“Your name can’t just... not fit. That makes no...” She didn’t finish the statement. Why bother?

The faerie’s delicate fingertips brushed over the wilting grass. Each blade bowed in submission to the light touch, lowering its form toward the soggy ground.

“I cannot explain it. I merely awoke from slumber and it no longer seemed to be my name. I’ve wandered since, following the rain clouds...”

Yvori glanced up, curiosity a little stirred.

“The rain clouds led to my yard?”

With a shake of her head, the faerie sighed softly.

“The rain clouds are everywhere. This just seemed as good a place as any. I couldn’t muster the will to keep wandering.” The confession a mere whisper, the faerie sounding bored by this stage.

Why should I care about this when she doesn’t? It would be so much easier to just give up...

Although the overwhelming, dark grey threatened to engulf the Mynci, sending her spiraling into the same apathy that now held the faerie within its cold grip, determination flickered deep within her.

If I don’t care, no one will.

Fighting the temptation to submit to hopelessness, Yvori searched her memory. Somewhere she recalled a much-loved Neopian fable, the tale of Baelia; a faerie whose name had been stolen along with her wings, leaving her caged and trapped atop a mountain. Logic fought its way through the clouds of misery.

Baelia lost her power when she lost her name... This had to be a clue...

SNAP OUT OF IT! She thought furiously, If you go back to this, you're just going to slip away into a dull, greyness. A dull, dull greyness. Don't you want life back, your friends, your family, you?

She was a prisoner inside her own body. The real Yvori was in there...somewhere...trying to solve this problem. But current Yvori was nonchalant, uncaring. She sat there mercilessly staring at the crying Faerie Queen. She remembered a time when she went to a parade. Her eyes had lit up at the sight of the vibrant, smiling faerie. Even her face seemed to be glowing. But now that was no more, now her weak lips were curved to a thin frown, and her whole being emitted a gloominess that was too overpowering for both Yvoris to bear.

She tried to muster the willpower to recall the story of Baelia. It used to be her favorite, but now it seemed like a faint, distant memory. Everything did, so close, but so far. She tried to keep the once all too common colors into her head. For as long as she held on to them in her mind, they were so real. As long as she held on to the impossible hope that this was a gruesome and horrid nightmare, then maybe she could keep the colors alive. Suddenly she lost it all, and came back to the nothingness reality. She forget her beloved colors once more. But one thing she did remember, the name of Baelia.

"If Fyora no longer seemed to be your name, then what did?" Though curious, Yvori's words slowly poured from her grey lips. The depressing sky swallowed them up into the silence.

"I....I cannot recall. This feeling, it, it, I just have no idea how to explain it." Her words were a plea for help. This change caused Yvori to be bored, in essence, but it caused Fyora to be sad. The once beautiful faerie's pale face now desperately slipped into her hands. Her bleak hair fell around her, and Fyora's dull sobs eventually turned into a monotone blur.

The emptiness was pressing in on her. The greyness was just taunting her. Just an angry reminder that this was not right. She had to get back on track, but she felt as if she was running through sand. She made futile attempts at trying to get back on solid ground.

I know I can figure this out, I know I can solve this! Inside the old Yvori was struggling to get through to her reluctant body. Real Yvori racked her brains, searching, searching. Then thinking back to Fyora's words, it hit her.

"I merely awoke from slumber and it no longer seemed to be my name."

That was it! This is where it must have happened, in her palace, during her sleep! Yvori knew what she had to do...

The listless, dying grass itched her fur, and the rain's icy fingers jabbed at the Mynci on and on. Each handful of drops felt like a barrage.

But still, she had to fall asleep, didn't she?

Shifting slightly, and trying to ignore the drizzle, the Mynci allowed her grey thoughts free reign.

This is so useless. I don't understand why I'm even trying. What's the point? I'm trying to help a pitiful faerie that doesn't even care, and I'm not sure I care either. And I'm probably wrong. Why should anything I come up with work? This is futile. I should just lay back, and let the miserable world pass me by...

Sleep came to her on swift, silent wings, whisking her off to a place where reality was little more than a whisper.

This time, she dreamt.

Yvori opened her eyes.

Joy swept her. This was Neopia as she'd known it, Neopia as it had been until she'd woken up this morning. In fact, it now felt like this was the truth, and everything Yvori had just witnessed had been merely a feeble, grey dream, a nightmare which felt insignificant upon waking.

She looked down, another thrum of happiness filling her entire body. She was blue again, the sky's vibrant hues trapped in every strand of fur that adorned her frame.

Everything was right again...

That was when she noticed the difference.

It was subtle, at first. She realized that everything seemed a little too bright. In the beginning, she would have thought everything just seemed more colorful after the greyness of her nightmare.

But the lilies that dotted her garden were a brilliant fiery orange, the grass greener than polished emeralds, the trees a rich chocolate, adorned with leaves of glistening peridot. The sky was cloudless, the shade of cyan almost neon. The sun glared down at her, so bright that nearly the entire sky was blinding. The colors seemed to radiate out of their boundaries, too; the grass surrounding the orange flowers had touches of orange around the edges, and the area where the sky met ground was highlighted in blue. It was almost too colorful to be real, like a picture from a child's coloring book.

Yvori ignored it. She didn't want to believe it was fake, not when it was so beautiful, so much better than the dream --

"You know you're wrong," murmured a soft voice behind her.

Yvori whirled around. Behind her stood Fyora, more glorious than she'd ever been in reality. She was so radiant it was almost blinding. Her hair, her robe, her wings, her eyes; they all shone a dazzling lavender, as if the faerie had been sculpted out of liquid amethyst.

"What are you talking about?" the Mynci asked, marvelling at Fyora's beauty.

"You know it's a lie."

Yvori winced. Fyora's words were laced with truth, so powerful she couldn't deny it, but oh, how it hurt to accept them! The pain was almost tangible, cutting the Mynci to the heart. She gasped, trying to comprehend what a low state reality was in.

A hand touched her shoulder.

"It can be fixed," the Faerie Queen continued. "But we will have to do it here."

"But how?" Yvori sniffled. "If it's just a dream, how can we really do anything here?"

Fyora gestured to the beautiful surroundings. "This is a dream, but it is a dream that faintly grasps reality. It is an ethereality that people can stay in, and occasionally reach out to touch Neopia, as they do now."

"It is here that one dark faerie now dwells, after being banished from Faerieland. A faerie named Baelia had lost her name and wings to the faerie, who proceeded to lock her up on a mountaintop. A travelling Kyrii saved the faerie, who was able to make it back to Faerieland once she had given herself a new name. She told me what had occurred, and the dark faerie was subsequently banished."

"But Jennumara has at last decided she wants revenge..."

"Of course. And now, while we wallow in colourlessness and despair, she rules over a land of radiance and joy."

Yvori frowned. "But -- but isn't this all just a dream? It's not like this super-bright version of everything is real, is it? In the end, all Jennumara will have is an illusion, right?"

Fyora's mouth twitched. "How we wish," she sighed. "It's true, though. This dream is just a dream, and yet at this point it's more real than anything ever will be."

"I -- I don't quite follow," Yvori admitted.

"At one time, this dream world was a land of grey. The way ours is now. A nightmare of the worst sort. When Jennumara was exiled to this place, somehow she managed to turn everything around. Those of us who sleep, and dream, will have nightmares eventually. And one by one, the nightmare will suck out everything good we know in life. Everything that makes life worth living -- colour, laughter, brightness, change -- transferred from here to there like wet paint. And so, while yes, this is a dream, because it holds so much of life in it..."

"It's really quite close to becoming reality, isn't it? And once that happens..." Yvori blanched as she realised what would happen next. "Fyora -- Fyora, wouldn't that mean that everything would flip again? And then, we --everyone, everything -- would be trapped in nightmares."

The faerie queen nodded sadly at the painful truth.

"You mentioned a way to fix it; how? I want to start, now, now that I know what's at stake."

Fyora nodded. "Come with me..."

At first, Yvori's stomach dropped and her heart skipped several beats as she was dragged into the sky, Fyora's strong hand in her paw being the only thing keeping her from falling back to earth. But then Fyora slowed her ascent and a slow pulse of magic swept through Yvori. She felt weightless as she floated up beside Fyora, flying with the Queen instead of being dragged along as baggage. The dream wind was as crisp and sweet smelling as the real thing, and even as Yvori's heart thrilled at the feel of it, she was horrified to realize how close this dream mimicked reality. She almost didn't realize Fyora was speaking above the wind.

"We still have a little time," Fyora said as they flew through the clouds. "Your coming here shows that, at least for the moment, this world is still of our dreams. Should the worlds switch, you, at least, will be able to remain here."

"But what about you?" Yvori asked, confused, "You're here too!"

"So it would appear," Fyora answered, "but I am not myself anymore. When I flew here to stop Jennumara, she stole my true wings. The faerie you see before you is, and will forever be, a figment of this dream world." And here, she paused, as if struggling to find the right words.

"Yvori... When the worlds switch, I will no longer exist. A dream does not exist in reality, and when this world becomes reality, I will disappear. That is why I need to tell you how to reverse this, before the worlds switch," Fyora explained gravely.

"You can't stay here, you can't help me?" Yvori asked with a gulp, and Fyora shook her radiant head.

"As it is, I don't know if I'll have time to finish explaining," Fyora sighed wistfully, and Yvori knew the faerie would have given anything to be able to help. "But you can do it, Yvori!" the faerie insisted. "You were the only one who figured out how to get here!"

And that was as far as their conversation got before they reached Faerieland. Or at least, what Yvori presumed to be Faerieland. But in this world, instead of being a radiant shade of amethyst, the city on the clouds was a deep dark shade of purple, and the clouds it floated on were dark and putrid looking. It was a menacing place, where shadows clung and evil clearly lurked.

Instead of landing at the front gate, Fyora flew just beyond the wall, landing beside one watchtower. She pressed her hand to the cloud wall, and for an instant her fingers glowed with light violet, sending a pulse of magic into the wall. A moment later, the clouds swirled and a passage opened. Fyora gave a small, relieved smile. "This land is a perfect copy," she murmured to herself.

"Yvori," she said, turning to the Mynci, "this passage will take you unnoticed into Faerieland. Listen carefully, because I'll only have time to say this once." She paused to make sure it was clear, and Yvori nodded, trembling a little.

"Jennumara and her shadow friends have transported themselves here. As soon as the worlds switch, they will believe they have won, and they will let down their guard. You must sneak in then and find whatever Jennumara has used to Anchor this world as her reality."

"... What?" Yvori asked, confused.

"The difference between our reality and our dreams is that reality is Anchored by Life. Everything that makes our lives worth living keeps our world alive. Jennumara has sapped most of that life force into this world through her Grey spell, which is why this dream will soon become real, but she had to start with something. Some object here holds the origin of life in this world. If you destroy this Anchor before every Neopet turns completely Grey, you can reverse the flow of life, and restore our worlds," Fyora explained, but even as she spoke Yvori began to notice something strange happening. The faerie no longer seemed to be as radiant. In fact, she seemed to be growing paler, almost Greying.

Fyora noticed Yvori's worry, and glanced down at her hands, her eyes widening in fear. "I didn't think it would happen this fast... I thought I had some more time-" But even as she spoke, her wingtips were turning transparent. Quickly, she plunged her hands into the folds of her dress, searching for something.

"Fyora-" Yvori began fearfully, but the faerie cut her off.

"I'm sorry, Yvori, but there's no time for more explanations," Fyora said hastily, her words flowing out almost as fast as she was fading. "The worlds are switching and I'm disappearing and- Ah, here it is!"

She had found what she was looking for, and from the folds of her skirt she pulled out a small silver key and thrust it into Yvori's hands.

"What's it for?" Yvori asked.

But even as Fyora's mouth opened to respond, the last of her faded away. All that remained on the cloud was a stunned blue Mynci, clutching the silver key, the last sign that the great Queen had ever existed in this world, still warm from Fyora's hands...

Yvori swallowed. Well, Fyora had said that she should go in right after the worlds switched. So she took a deep breath, tucked the key securely into her pocket, and plunged into the opening.

It was dark there. All the colors washed away into deep, dripping purple-black. Yvori could smell the darkness, and the light behind her was swallowed before she'd gone three steps; the air was full of a strange dry smoky fog that caught in her throat. She fought not to cough, breathing slowly and shallowly; she couldn't see where she was going or guess where or when she might come out, and was afraid to make a noise.

Blindly, the Mynci stumbled forward, putting her hand into her pocket to reassure herself with the feel of the key. She still didn't know what she was supposed to do with that. Open a lock, presumably, but where?

At last the enshrouding fog fell away, and Yvori gasped for breath as the light stabbed brilliantly into her eyes again.

If her backyard had been splendid in this strange world of Jennumara's, if Fyora had been radiant beyond her usual beauty, Faerieland was magnificent, and terrible in its magnificence. The clouds were a blackened, almost rotted-looking purple, but the other colors were even brighter here, blazing against that dangerous backdrop. Shops studded the clouds with wares that winked and lured through the windows, the sapphire blue of the sky seemed hard and close enough to touch, and the palace towered high above it all.

Yvori gulped. One object! How was she to find one object as an anchor in all this?

Think, she told herself. She could solve the puzzle. She could find the solution. Let's see. Jennumara didn't seem the type, somehow, to hide something important by making it look trivial. She might, however, hide it in plain sight.

Yvori's eyes went to one particular patch of sky, or rather, what wasn't blocking it. Then, hoping nobody would call her on being out of place, she set off for the Hidden Tower.

The young Mynci was gasping for breath by the time she climbed up the last flight of invisible stairs, and her mind was still churning. Life and what made life worth living anchored reality. What would anchor Jennumara's world?

What would anchor Jennumara?

Anger, she thought. Vengeance? Theft? She slipped into the unstaffed shop with no answers in mind and looked around helplessly.

Something dark, maybe. There were plenty of objects related to dark faeries: maybe one of those. But then, most of those were Jhudora's Somethingorother, and Jhudora did her scheming right under the Faerie Queen's nose and never really seemed to get very far. Would Jennumara use something of hers?

What about the Faerie Queen items? Yvori paled a little as she moved to examine those and found them all bat-winged, with deep purple hair and mouths. Jennumara had made herself the Faerie Queen in this world, then.... She might be the anchor, but Yvori wasn't sure. Would self alone be deep enough?

Something about color itself. There were rainbow items too.

Yvori turned about in indecision. The Rainbow Swirly Thing winked alluringly at her, colors swirling about it and into it as if it could be the drain. The Supreme Deluxe Faerie Queen Doll seemed to draw herself up and toss her hair when Yvori's eyes slid past it. Jhudora's Crystal Ball swirled, and Yvori gulped as the murky swirls within it cleared and she glimpsed scene after scene of Neopets awakening to a grey nightmare, one after another, to be trapped forever if she failed.

"Failed," said a cheerful, bright, sweet voice behind her.

Yvori spun.

Towering over her, beaming joyously, her night-dark hair waving in the wind, moonlight skin shining, and cruel eyes dark enough to eat one little Neopet's soul let alone her name, stood Jennumara.

The dark faerie was strong here, no doubt of that. But as she lowered her heavy lids, mouth curving into a smile no less joyous and infinitely more vicious, Yvori realized what the anchor had to be.

Dreams.

She lunged to the side, snatched up the Slumberberry potion from its stand, and threw it to the floor at Jennumara's feet.

It smashed, sweet purple fumes boiling up around them, and Yvori breathed some in involuntarily. She saw colors darting about in all directions, felt the worlds switching places again, and then... she saw... nothing.

And then, slowly, she woke up. She was lying with her head on something soft and comfortable, but her body seemed to be on something awfully hard. Not grass. Someone was stroking her face.

Yvori blinked drowsily and looked up.

Then she gasped and tried to roll aside, but a long-nailed hand caught her and held her fast with effortless strength.

"Come," Jennumara said, baring her teeth in a smile, "lie still, little Neopet."

Yvori swallowed. "Your plan didn't work," she said. The colors here seemed normal again, almost faded after their earlier preternatural vividness. They had to be going back where they belonged.

So why did she feel so frightened and hopeless all of a sudden? Oh, right, she had her head in a powerful, angry dark faerie's lap.

"You've returned Neopia to its rightful place and foiled my attempt to seize reality for this dream-world I inhabit," Jennumara agreed. "But you know, you haven't canceled out my spell altogether." She leaned close. "And there's something you ought to notice."

Yvori swallowed. "What's that?"

"The worlds are back where they belong, yes." Jennumara's voice dropped to a glacial whisper. "But you're still here...."

Yvori gulped again. She reminded herself that if Neopia had not been saved, she wouldn't be in any *better* position, but that was only so comforting when faced with the direct wrath of a powerful dark faerie. "So what are you planning to do with me?" the Mynci asked. Maybe Jennumara would turn out to be the gloaty type.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Okay, maybe not.

"What was it you did to Baelia?"

Jennumara blinked at her. "If you know her name, you know the story," she said.

"I know the story," Yvori said, "but it's never really been all that clear on what *you* wanted out of it. I'm not stupid, you know. I know there's more to dark faeries than just being nasty for no reason." One of the friends who'd been helping plan the picnic was a dark faerie, even, but nothing could sound dumber than saying that some of her best friends were dark faeries. Maybe more so when the relationship had started when Yvori had let Veress out of a bottle to get Night Vision; she'd just happened to offer her a sandwich before the faerie flew off. "So what did you want to get out of it?"

"Power," Jennumara said indifferently, pushing Yvori's head off her lap and rising to do something outside the Mynci's field of vision. "Vengeance. She had... caused me some trouble."

Maybe if Jennumara kept talking, Yvori could figure something out. She clambered to her feet. "Why, what'd she do?"

Jennumara whirled on her, seizing the young Mynci by the neck. Spittle flew from her mouth as she roared, "You will not goad me into giving you my humiliation!"

Yvori's eyes widened, and her hands came up to clutch at the faerie's hand at her throat. "I didn't--didn't know--" she croaked.

Oddly, her eyes drifted down toward a locket at Jennumara's neck. No. Not a locket.

A lock...

“She had you trapped…” The whisper lingered a moment, teasing Jennumara... the faerie tensed dramatically, causing Yvori to step back in fear.

The expected outrage never came, however. The dark faerie’s shoulders slumped softly in defeat, her form lowering to sit upon the cold stone, her face hidden behind her hands as if the memory that Yvori had roused evoked such feelings of humiliation that she couldn’t bear to be seen.

“Yes. Satisfied now? Feel you’ve done your bidding as Fyora’s little sleuth?”

Jennumara, once so terrifying and cold -- a formidable enemy -- was suddenly reduced to a pitiable creature. Her slender form slumped in submission; her expression between the clawed fingers (which attempted to veil her features) was one of pure misery.

I remember pure misery. Yvori thought softly, recalling the sorrow that had weighed so heavily back in the waking world when she'd first awoken to the shroud of grey Jennumara had forced upon the land.

Gently, the Mynci reached out a delicate paw, placing it upon the faerie’s shoulder and squeezing softly.

“Will you tell me about it?”

A choked laugh, almost a sob, came from behind Jennumara’s hands.

“There is little to tell, Mynci. Baelia was no different than most -- foolish and ignorant in her belief that dark faeries are a wicked breed. I suppose we have Jhudora to thank for that; her malice and wickedness have tarnished what was once a fine reputation. Baelia’s heart was in the right place; she was merely misinformed. But that is no excuse to cause suffering. Her magic wasn’t enough to hold me for long, though her spell continues to weaken me… I thought, perhaps, that imprisoning her…”

“She might understand how you felt, to have your powers restricted. She might remove what hindered you.” Yvori spoke softly as she studied the shimmering lock that hung around the Faerie’s neck. The shimmering silver hue reminded her of something.

“She used the lock to prevent you doing magic. In case you would conjure darkness, as she suspected your kind were want to do.”

Jennumara finally glanced up. Sorrow filled the luminous gaze that lingered upon Yvori. The dark faerie was no longer someone to fear. She was just another victim of events caused by misunderstanding and foolishness. Her magic had obviously not been completely bound by the key, explaining why her attempt to flip the world of the waking and that of dreams had not succeeded before Yvori could stop it. But in the Mynci’s eyes, it never should have been bound at all.

“Why didn’t you explain to Fyora?” Yvori uttered the question softly, suspecting she knew the answer before it even left the faerie’s lips.

“The word of a tragic grey faerie against a dark one?” Jennumara almost spat the words, though her anger was short lived.

Yvori’s paw slowly slid from the faerie’s shoulder, drifting down to her pocket. Fingers closed softly around the cool, thin key within and she withdrew it, displaying it gently upon her palm.

“Is this the key?”

Jennumara’s eyes widened softly and she nodded. A faint tremble seemed to travel over the faerie’s lips, as if she feared to even speak now that the item she had longed for so desperately was within her reach. Yvori smiled warmly, handing it to her, almost bemused by her companion’s expression of shock. It was the same awed look Veress had displayed when offered kindness.

How sad that dark faeries expect such hate… how sad that a kind gesture stuns them.

With trembling hands the dark faerie slid the key into the tiny lock, which snapped open with a gentle sigh. Before Yvori’s very eyes a strange, gentle shimmer seemed to engulf Jennumara, luminous streams of ebony and indigo entwining their way around her slender form, glittering along each limb, restoring a gleam to her eyes that before had been lit only by malice.

Jennumara was returned to full power. And she was magnificent.

As the shimmering tones slowly subsided like the tide drawn back from golden sands, the faerie exhaled slowly. Her expression seemed serene now, at peace.

Yvori smiled softly as Jennumara parted her lips.

“Don’t worry about thanking me. Keeping your magic restricted wouldn’t have been right, especially when the reason it was originally taken from you wasn’t fair to begin with.”

She gazed out the window at the dreamscape that sprawled around them.

“Will you return to Neopia? I’m sure if I explained…”

The faerie held up a hand, ceasing Yvori’s questions before they'd even begun.

“No, little one. My home is here now. This realm has suffered from my attempts to melt the line between dreams and reality. There is rebuilding to be done here, so that nightmares are not the only option available to those who slumber.”

Yvori smiled softly, gently reaching out and squeezing the faerie’s shoulder.

“You’ll need help.”

Upon the sprawling emerald fields of Neopia, spring was celebrated with much merrymaking.

Flowers seemed to dance, enticed by the hand of a gentle breeze. Food and drink flowed freely (along with the sound of laughter and joy), and hundreds of happy voices merged into one, creating a tribute to the season that filled the air.

Fyora stood at the brink of the celebrations, smiling softly. The Faerie Queen’s radiance was undeniable; violet robes shimmered softly, while cascades of indigo hair tumbled softly down slender back. Fyora appeared calm and serene.

She also appeared well rested. Her dreams had been blessed as if by magic; within them only happiness was to be found… she suspected she knew who she could thank for that.

Softly, the Faerie Queen turned her gaze to the maypole. Tiny Neopets, rejoicing in the timeless dance, spun and twirled. Each one clutched a colored ribbon tightly as they moved. The silken strands were each a different hue, entwining and weaving as the dancers formed what seemed to be a shimmering rainbow.

One ribbon, however, fluttered aimlessly. Toned in the softest pink, the satin flittered gently, clutched only by the merry breeze. To those who danced nearby, it was an irritation. To the smiling Fyora it was a reminder of the little Mynci who had given up her hope of dancing with it so that Neopia could dream.

The End