Zabeth stares at the leaf...her eyes full of wonder.....that night she remains awake.....waiting for midnight.....she sets the alram on her mobile right on "12:00 o'clock" she'll be out in her garden...she cannot wait to see the fairies she's waited for so long.....her eyes grow heavier but she forces her eyes to stay open...,when the clock ticks 12:00....she gets off her bed...grabs her torch from her sidetable drawer and opens the door to her garden ....the air is cool ...freezing on her face...
She sees some petals of dark black colour glowing in air.....with silver veins.....she moves her hand...touches a petal with her finger... and suddenly, she jerks her hand back as if pushed by the sheer force of something. The wind blows speedily.
(The Fairy World watches in horror as the wind rises—not a natural wind, but a shrieking, twisting thing that smells of drowned leaves and broken promises.)
Elder Thistlemoss: "No. No—she touched it. She actually touched it."
Scout Twig: "Her hand—look at her hand! The silver veins from the petal are crawling up her fingers. Like roots. Like chains."
Keeper Petalwhisper: "She is not jerking back by her own will. The Hollow King is pulling her. Reeling her in like a fish on a line."
Zabeth's torch clatters to the ground. Its light flickers once, twice, then dies. The moonflowers curl inward. The foxgloves droop as if weeping.
Elder Thistlemoss: "The garden is already forgetting her. Look—the tiny bench she built. It's splintering. The fairy doors are sealing shut one by one."
Scout Twig: "Where is he taking her? Where does the Hollow King keep his prisoners?"
Keeper Petalwhisper: "The Thorn Nursery. Three valleys east. Beneath the choked forest. He will train her there—break her belief piece by piece, rebuild it into worship of him."
Elder Thistlemoss: "How long does she have before she becomes one of the Dampened?"
Keeper Petalwhisper (voice barely a whisper): "Seven days. After that... she will not remember she ever loved fairies. She will only remember fear."
The wind dies. The garden is silent. Zabeth is gone.
Scout Twig: "Someone must find her. Someone who still believes—or someone who is learning to."
Elder Thistlemoss: "Then we wait for someone.....and if needed we have to reveal ourselves...before something worse happens...."
after which everything goes normal ...but...her garden looks like it's never been cared for,...all the flowers withered..., gone pale....rust and dust everywhere in her garden and Zabeth is nowhere to be found.....the small fairies...look at the garden with deep sorrow ...