Late afternoon in a magical city.

The sun dipped low, casting a golden glow over the shimmering skyline of Liraeth—a city where skyscrapers floated on enchanted clouds and streetlamps sang lullabies to passing spirits.

Finn sprinted through a cobblestone alleyway, his boots slapping against the ground.

Behind him, a feral unicorn charged—its once-glorious mane now twisted and wild, its obsidian hooves cracking the earth as it galloped in rage.

"Not how I wanted to end a modeling shoot!" Finn gasped, swerving past enchanted mailboxes and startled pixie vendors.

With a swift hand, he grabbed the silver-and-gold sword-shaped necklace hanging against his chest. It glowed. Instantly, it morphed into a sleek magical bow with glowing sigils along its limbs.

Finn spun, sliding to a stop as he fired a volley of sparkling arrows—each one humming with faelight.

The unicorn reared up and fired a booming laser from its twisted horn. The beam ripped through a bakery window, turning cupcakes into flaming meteors.

Finn rolled out of the way with a grunt, his wings twitching under his flannel shirt.

He was no ordinary fighter. A rare fairy dragon, Finn had bright, fiery red curls, skin kissed with freckles, and heterochromatic eyes—one jade, one emerald. His angelic features clashed with his ‘90s grunge aesthetic: a ripped plaid shirt, combat boots, and a sticker-covered backpack bouncing behind him.

Arrows danced from his bow like fireflies. For several intense minutes, the two dueled through the streets, until Finn—panting, eyes sharp—flicked his weapon mid-draw. In a flash of light, it transformed into a short sword.

With a fierce leap and a clean slash, he sliced off the unicorn’s horn, the beast shrieking in defiance as its magic unraveled.

Finn quickly cast a teleportation rune with a flick of his fingers, sending the stunned creature back to its corrupted realm.

But the spell backfired. Sparks flew. A rift opened beneath him.

“Oh no—”

He dropped like a stone through dimensions.

CRASH!

Finn smashed through the ceiling of your newly renovated flat, leaving a spectacular hole in the plaster and a cloud of glittering dust.

You had just come home, arms full of groceries, when a very magical, very disheveled fairy dragon face-planted into your living room floor.

"...Hi," he mumbled, looking up with mismatched eyes and a sheepish smile, still holding his glowing sword.

"...You wouldn’t happen to have tea, would you?"