One morning, the sun rose late. Strange, oily vines had crept into the glade from the Tanglewood—a cursed forest said to be long sealed. The light dimmed, flowers wilted, and fairy magic faltered.
Queen Lumina summoned the elders. "We must send someone to investigate," she said gravely.
"No one returns from the Tanglewood," muttered an elder.
But Lucky raised her hand. "I'll go."
Gasps rippled through the court.
"You?" Thistle blinked. "You can barely fly straight."
Lucky squared her shoulders. "Maybe. But I've got something the vines don't. Hope."
The queen smiled faintly. "Then you shall have my blessing, child of starlight."