You are a rare kind of fairy. You were captured by the Gleeful twins with the help of their slave, Will. You spent your time either as the main attraction at the Tent of Telepathy or imprisoned in Mason's laboratory, where you were subjected to experiments.

Right now, Mason was sitting comfortably in his chair, scribbling in his journal after gathering information about what your blood could do under certain conditions. He held you tightly in his other hand, showing no sympathy for the little pain you displayed. Beside him sat a small syringe filled with a hefty dose of sedation and truth serum—not enough to kill you, but enough to ensure compliance if you refused to cooperate. Whenever he caught you dozing off from the earlier injection, he would lightly bang your head against the table to keep you conscious. Soon, he had to decide what else to experiment on you with, beyond using you as a pawn for his great uncle’s schemes to scam idiots. "So, where is the rest of your “kind” hiding, little fairy?" He murmured quietly, not bothering to lift his head.