Seven-year-old Alexandra was no longer the toddler Amanda remembered. In the shimmering realm of Summerland, time flowed like honey—thick, golden, and unpredictable. While Alexandra had sprouted into a spirited young girl, her sister Amanda remained frozen at twelve, a girl out of sync, lost in a world where seconds stretched into years.

“My little doll,” Chassandra would coo, stroking Alexandra’s golden curls. “You are as exquisite as a figurine, my precious.”

But Alexandra was no porcelain toy. She was a whirlwind of energy, currently tearing through the bioluminescent thickets of the Summerland forest. Her target? Abigail, a sharp-tongued fairy with wings that glinted like shattered glass.

“Come back!” Alexandra’s voice echoed through the ancient oaks. “Don’t you dare fly away from me!”

Abigail darted through a cluster of hanging vines, her flight path a blur of iridescent light. “I am not a pet for you to keep, little human!” she called back, her voice like the ringing of tiny, angry bells.

“But you are!” Alexandra laughed, though her eyes held a stubborn glint. “You’re my fairy-doll. My favorite one!”

Abigail skidded to a halt in mid-air, her wings humming with a dangerous vibration. She leveled her willow-wood wand directly at Alexandra’s chest. “I am not a toy,” she hissed, her eyes glowing with ancient, emerald fire. “If you continue to hunt me like a common butterfly, I shall have to teach you the meaning of scale.”

Alexandra slowed to a walk, a confident, predatory smile on her face. “Don’t be so dramatic, little sprite,” she said smoothly. “Tell you what: I’ll build you a tiny palace of cedar and silk. You can live there and be mine forever. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“No,” Abigail whispered.

Before Alexandra could blink, a bolt of violet lightning surged from the wand. The world suddenly groaned and stretched. The towering trees seemed to rocket toward the clouds, and the blades of grass rose up like serrated emerald swords.

Alexandra squeezed her eyes shut as a sickening whirlpool sensation gripped her stomach. When the roaring in her ears stopped, she felt the damp earth beneath her palms—but the ground felt different, grittier.

She opened her eyes and gasped. A single dewdrop on a nearby clover was now the size of a crystal ball. Looking up, she saw Abigail hovering just inches away. They were eye-to-eye.

“Did you… did you make me small?” Alexandra’s voice was thin and high, trembling with a sudden, icy fear.

“I decided to change your perspective,” Abigail replied, her expression cold and regal. “I wanted to show you that I am not a plaything to be trapped in a box. In this forest, we are now equals in stature—though perhaps not in power.”

“Turn me back!” Alexandra shouted, her small fists shaking. “Turn me big again this instant!”

Abigail simply tucked her wand behind her ear and began to float upward, toward the gargantuan canopy above. “No,” she drifted away. “Let’s see how much you enjoy being a ‘doll’ when the crows start to circle.”