• I looked up from the book I was reading when I heard the door open. It was Dextor, his golden hair shimmering in the moonlight streaming from the window. I went back to reading, as this I was in no mood for dealing with him. He sat down beside me, and sighed loudly. I ignored him. He sighed again, trying to get my attention.
    "Willow, we have a problem," he said finally, giving up on being subtle.
    "Do we, now?" I asked, turning the page.
    "The Story Realm opened again," worry ran thick in his voice.
    Rolling my eyes, I closed the book and stood up.
    "Well lets get this over and done with. These books are not going to read themselves," I nodded over to the huge stack of ancient tomes beside the armchair.
    In my silver armour, I strode into the castle library. A purple portal was floating in the middle of the room. Flooding from it were story characters. Captain James Hook, the Gingerbread man, Katniss Everdeen and Will Solace. Most of them were easy to deal with. The heroic characters just apologised, and went on their way. Most of the people just wanted to go home. We, Dextor and I, just had to glare at the cowards, and they would scutter off. We were left with five people, Valentine Morganstern, James Hook, Morrigan, Jeanine Matthews and a cloaked figure. Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of war, life and death, instantly started fighting with Hook, and Valentine was busy sizing up Jeanine. That left the cloaked figure. They were walking, slowly, ever slowly, towards me. I could see their eyes. They were violet, with magenta and indigo flecks. I know those eyes. They glare at me every time I look in a mirror.
    Why was I a story character? I am as real as the castle and fields around me. It must be a creature that feeds off of fear and confusion. That had to be the answer.
    "What foul demon are you?" I shouted.
    The woman lowered her hood. She had my black hair and my sharp features.
    Only the same as you are
    I screeched, knowing that it was true, knowing that I was just a story character. A demon of the night as the stories portray me. I started to cry, my tears pure silver of the moon, as that is what I am. I am Willow Moon. I am a monster. I am an Unseelie faerie that should not be allowed to live.
    "Willow!" Dextor shouted.
    He was holding his hand out the the other Willow. I walked off to the portal, where I belong.