Baby Taylor Fairy Land Dream
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Description
Taylor stumbled into a twilight realm where skeletal trees clawed at blood-orange skies, their gnarled branches dripping sap that hissed against cracked earth. This wasn't the Fairy Land from childhood tales—it reeked of burnt sugar and impending rot. A figure materialized from the choking mist, crown askew on ash-streaked hair. "She's unraveling reality itself," the princess rasped, clutching a dagger forged from blackened starlight. "Five relics remain buried where the witch's laughter poisoned the soil." Taylor's fingers brushed the jagged scar now pulsing above her collarbone—a map only visible through pain. They'd need to outrun sentient storms in the Valley of Shattered Mirrors, bargain with the spider-librarians of Bleeding Archives, and perhaps worst of all, confront why this broken world felt more like home than the life she'd left. Every step forward made her old reality blur—forgotten schoolbooks dissolving into armor forged from unanswered text messages, her inhaler transforming into vials of liquid courage that burned going down. The witch's whispers slithered through the air tonight: *"Run, little liar. You'll abandon them like you did—"* Taylor snapped the locket shut, silencing the voice with a click of rusted metal. Dawn wouldn't come again until they mended the sky.
