fairyworld diaries

There are two versions of the world. The one everyone knows; cities of glass and steel, traffic lights blinking against the haze of pollution, people rushing past each other, heads down, eyes glued to their screens. And then there is Fairyworld.

Fairyworld is Earth, but not. It exists in a parallel thread of reality, layered over the mundane, humming just beneath it like a secret melody only a few can hear. Every city here has its counterpart, recognizable, yet transformed. Fairy Paris shimmers in rose-gold light, its river glowing with bioluminescence. Fairy New York never sleeps, but not because of neon and taxis—it’s alive with floating lanterns and enchanted jazz clubs where the music sways with a mind of its own. And then, there is Fairy London.

A city of eternal dusk, Fairy London glows in deep violets and velvety blues, as if the sky is caught between sunset and midnight, refusing to let go of either. The cobblestone streets pulse with quiet magic; gas lamps flicker with flames that dance in unnatural colors—emerald, sapphire, amethyst.

I love London because that is where him and I met. It started, like all the best stories do, with music.

Not just any music. our music.The kind that finds you when you aren’t looking. The kind that pulls you in before you even know why.

In Fairy London, there is a little speakeasy hidden behind a bookstore. The kind of place where the air smells like ink and whiskey, and the floorboards creak like they have secrets to tell.

I wasn’t supposed to be there. Neither was he. But fate likes to play DJ sometimes, and that night, it put us on the same dance floor.

He was already dancing when I walked in—effortless, cool, moving like the music was his own personal soundtrack. He wasn’t showing off. He wasn’t even trying. He was just being.

And then he saw me.

And the second our eyes met, the music changed.

We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Some people introduce themselves with words.We introduced ourselves with a dance.

His hand found mine, and suddenly, we weren’t just two fairies on a dance floor anymore. The world faded, and all that was left was this rhythm between us.

“We move the same.”

“We are the same.”

And from that moment on, we were inseparable.

The music faded into something slower, something with a lazy groove, like even the beat knew it needed a second to catch up with what just happened.

I was still catching up too.

Nico hadn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he turned it over, inspecting it like he was searching for a clue. Then he looked back up at me, dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.

“So, are we gonna pretend that wasn’t the best dance this club has ever seen?”

I raised a brow.“Oh, so you’re dramatic.”

“Confident,”he corrected. Then he grinned, like he knew exactly what he was doing.“I’m Nico.”

“Isla.”

Nico let my name settle on his tongue like he was testing it out, then nodded like he approved.“Cool name. Very main character of you.”

I snorted.“Thanks. Yours sounds like someone who would flirt with every girl in the club.”

“I would never.”A pause.“Unless it works?”

I rolled my eyes, but I was still smiling. He was ridiculous. Ridiculous and dangerously easy to talk to.

A new song started up, something fast and pulsing, and for a second, we just stood there, still caught in the aftershock of whatever had just happened between us.

Then he leaned in slightly, like we were already sharing some kind of secret.“So… where to next?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

He lifted a shoulder.“I don’t know, Isla. We could stay here, dance more, talk, maybe argue over who’s the better dancer—”

“Me.”

“—or,”he continued, ignoring that,“we could leave. Go somewhere else. Start an adventure. I have a feeling we’re good at those.”

I opened my mouth, ready to come up with some kind of reason why that was insane—because who meets someone and then just goes on an adventure with them?

But then I realized I already knew the answer.

We do.

So I grinned.“Alright, Nico. Let’s see where this goes.”

And just like that, we were off.