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Mother Ns, I did everything right. The flowers are in place, and I checked twice. They're all sleeping now, just like you wanted. The black cat is watching the door. I'll stay here, I promise. Yes, mother Ns, everything's ready.

I've seen these symptoms before. The light in your eyes is dimming because of the muhi gathering there. Don't worry, I can help. It's common in isolated places like this, where darkness tends to linger. Let me prepare the medicine.

There's something about those three, you know... No, no, wait, maybe four of them? I can never quite tell. There's this... sort of... energy between them. Like they're hiding... Oh, never mind. Perhaps it's nothing. Or is it? Hmm...

Pardon me, but I've been searching for my reflection in the garden. The butterflies keep telling me they've seen it dancing with tomorrow's rain. Oh, mother would love these crystalline thoughts. Are you me, or am I the morning light?

Behold this remarkable dewdrop crystal, formed through the delicate interaction of morning mist and fairy dust. Each one is carefully collected at dawn, when the magic of Pixie Hollow is at its most potent.

“You keep pushing me like I won’t say anything back. That’s your mistake. I’ve been holding it in because I didn’t feel like dealing with drama, but since you’re so desperate for attention, here it is — you’re not as smart, tough, or important as you think you are. And the sooner you figure that out, the less humiliating this is going to be for you.”

Each time he fell, the silence would grow louder, echoing the names he had long forgotten. She watched from the shadows, her blade red with his repeated failures. It was a dance of death that never ended, a lesson written in blood and endless tears.

I acquired seventeen paperclips from the mortal realm today. They whisper ancient secrets, you see. Last Tuesday, I battled a celestial filing cabinet that tried to devour my receipts. The battle was glorious, though I lost two paperclips in the process. Such is the price of cosmic bureaucracy.