In the heart of the twilight wood, where the veil between dreams and reality thinned, the fae of dreams wandered in search of something new. For centuries, she’d woven illusions for mortals, guiding their slumbers, but lately, something had stirred deep within her ancient soul—an unfamiliar longing for companionship, for something real to care for.

Through the silver mist, a soft sound caught her jeweled ear—a sniffle, faint as a sigh. There, beneath the towering moonlit oaks, sat a child, alone, her knees drawn to her chest, eyes wide with fear and wonder. A smile, curious and knowing, curled on the fae's lips.

"Perfect," She whispered, stepping from the shadows like a half-forgotten dream.