A smile danced at the corners of Leon’s mouth. He’d made it. But then, a wail erupted from the depths of the forest, a sound steeped in anguish that jolted him to his core. It sliced through the air, reverberating like a sorrowful anthem. Time stood still for a heartbeat, fear anchoring him momentarily. Yet one thought ignited his resolve. He had come too far to turn back now.

The creature beneath him surged forward through the thicket, and soon, he spotted glimmers dancing in the dim light. They hovered like restless stars at night, but one flicker remained still.

As they drew closer, his heart sank. These weren’t lights. They were fairies, and their bright wings flapped in frantic circles around a fallen fairy, their cries blending into the sound of despair. The lifeless body lay on its back, a haunting sight that unraveled a new fear within him.

The moment the fairies caught sight of Leon, they swarmed him, buzzing in a flurry of frantic movement. “Stay away! Don’t hurt her!” One fairy, no larger than a grape, hovered fiercely in front of his face, its tiny body radiating desperation.

Then, a second fairy charged at him with furious intent, colliding with his chest and knocking the breath from his lungs. The air crackled with panic, and the others followed suit, launching a barrage of furious attacks.

“Hey! Stop!” Leon shouted, flinching as he tried to shield himself. Acting on instinct, he caught one fairly mid-flight, cradling it gently between his fingers. He gazed deeply into its shimmering emerald eyes, searching for understanding. “Why are you attacking me?”

The fairy thrashed in his hold, all wild eyes and flailing limbs—an embodiment of rage and fear, wild like a feral animal caught in a cage. In that moment, he grappled with a familiar instinct to fight back, driven by the threat in the small creature’s fury. Yet he paused, remembering the man he had chosen to be. He craved answers more than vengeance.

“Please, stop. I want to help.” His words felt foreign, unscripted, but they poured out of him nonetheless, raw and earnest.

The fairy stilled, though every quiver of its body radiated distrust. He sensed the fairi’s grief, it’s anger. “I promise I won’t hurt you. You’re safe with me. But I can’t help unless you tell me what happened.”

For an agonizing moment, silence stretched between them. Then, a shimmer of tears blossomed in the fairy’s eyes, pools of blue that echoed the deep sorrow of the ocean. “We tried to warn her,” it cried, the tiny voice trembling. “We warned her not to drink the tree sap, but she wouldn’t listen. And now she’s gone.”

The fragile string of hope within Leon began to fray. Slowly, he released her, watching as she flitted away, hovering just above the forest floor. The others stopped their assault, although the remnants of hostility clung to the air.

He stole a glance at the fallen fairy, his heart dropping. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

The fairy nodded, wiping its tears with the delicacy of a falling leaf. “If we get the antidote, she might recover, but it’s too dangerous for us.”

With each word, the fairy became more vivid—standing about six inches tall, its translucent wings glimmered like morning dew in sunlight, its body exuding an ethereal glow. The dress it wore shimmered, composed of countless tiny leaves that danced in the forest breeze, a testament to the beauty and fragility of their world.

“What’s the antidote?” Leon asked softly as he knelt beside the fallen fairy.

“Tall black flowers with three petals,” the fairy replied, voice heavy with sorrow. “But they only grow on a creature that feeds on our kind. We can’t go anywhere near it.”

Leon paused. “Why don’t you stay here?” He said, forcing his voice to steady. “I’ll go find the flowers. I don’t think I could be in danger from this creature.”

The little fairy hesitated, her wings trembling softly. “Promise you’ll return. Promise you’ll do everything you can to save her?”

“I promise,” he replied. With that, he turned back to Redemption, the creature who had carried him through the forest. He swung his leg over its back, feeling the familiar rhythm of the bond they’d formed. “Redemption,” he called, his voice firm with purpose. “I need you to find the tallest, blackest flowers you can locate, okay?”

With a low growl, Redemption leaped into motion, tearing through the undergrowth. The woods closed in around him, dark and shadowy, but the creature surged forward, guiding him deeper into the forest.

When they finally came to a halt, Leon blinked in disbelief. Nestled between the towering trees was a curious creature, resembling a plump, white potato on thin, stilted legs, its head adorned with a whimsical crown of tall, black flowers.

The creature’s beady eyes locked onto his own, and an unexpected hiss escaped its mouth, sharp teeth flashing in the dappled light. With an amusing lopsided gait, it approached, its long, skinny tail swishing behind it, tipped with something that glinted ominously like an arrowhead.

Leon swallowed hard, stepping back instinctively. “Get back, you…you potato!” The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him, but his heart raced nonetheless.

To his surprise, the creature paused, and he could almost see tears welling in its eyes. A twist of concern knotted within him as he looked over at the creature again, noticing something off. “Your foot—it’s bleeding?”

The creature nodded, releasing a high-pitched whimper that reverberated with raw vulnerability.

Leon sighed softly, caught between trepidation and compassion. As he drew closer and knelt, he could feel the creature’s wary gaze upon him, yet something deeper stirred within. He gently took the wounded foot in his hands, its softness a startling contrast to the sharpness of its demeanor. It winced, but did not pull away.

“Okay,” Leon murmured. “I’m going to help you, but you must stay quiet. And you have to agree, no more eating fairies.”

The creature gave him a confused look, but then nodded slowly, almost solemnly. Leon dug eagerly into his bag, retrieving his canteen and a small leather pouch. Dousing a cloth in water, he pressed it to the creature’s foot with tender care. It released another whine, but he held steady, cleaning away the dirt with gentle persistence.

With each pass, the cloth revealed more of the creature’s injuries, until finally, a patch of soft, white skin emerged. “That’s it. Almost there,” he whispered.

After rinsing the cloth and repeating the process a few more times, he finally pulled away to inspect his work. The creature’s foot looked almost good as new, devoid of any trace of its earlier suffering.

“There you are,” he beamed, a sense of triumph filling him. Reaching into his pack once more, he pulled out a small packet. “I hope you like jerky.” He tore off a piece and offered it to the creature, who sniffed at it with the reluctance of a child presented with vegetables before taking a tentative bite.

“That’s better,” Leon said with a chuckle, handing over a few more pieces. Each nibble seemed to bring a glimmer of joy to the creature, its initial wariness fading in the wake of its newfound delight.

Then, with a surprising gesture, the creature reached up, plucking one of the tall black flowers from its crown and holding it out to Leon.

“Oh,” he breathed in awe, “thank you.”

The creature’s eyes sparkled with a sense of pride, reflecting the wonder in his own. Leon cradled the flower gently between two fingers, marveling at the silky petals. “This is perfect,” he murmured, giving a grateful nod before turning back onto the path ahead.