In the hush of the pastel thicket, where dawn spilled like liquid light, the unicorn flower fairy chased a secret bloom — one whispered to hold the colours of dreams.
She twirled through veils of petals, laughter threading the air, until sudden silver strands caught her—a spider’s web, fragile yet unyielding, shimmering with morning dew. The spider’s gaze met hers, an ancient pause between hunter and caught, before a flicker of magic untangled her — a burst of sparkling dust that scattered like stardust on the breeze.
Freed, she claimed the bloom, its hues soft yet fierce, and with it, a crown woven from the wild chase and the magic of the waking garden.
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