chapter 5 – the wonderland of hope

She didn’t want to save the world
she wanted to create one...
where sorrow melts in a cup of sweet tea,
and nightmares apologize before they arrive.

She had seen universes burn.

She had heard the screams of flaming dimensions,
felt the trembling prayers of cornered gods,
watched thrones fall so heavy that even the stars leaned down.

She had seen entire kingdoms fold in on themselves,
collapse in spirals of rage or oblivion.
and she had survived all of it.
not because she was the strongest,
but because she kept
even broken, even tired
loving what she had been through.

And today, Saphira Noctielle didn’t want to fight, nor to correct
she wanted to create.

She had returned to the forest of leafy dreams,
where silence had roots.
but that day, she didn’t sit on the moss throne
she lifted her head to the sky.

And she whispered a word.

Not a command, not a spell, not a prayer
a soft word,
a new word.

—“Hope.”

At that word, a blue lightning bolt fell from the sky
not a bolt of war, nor of wrath
a slow lightning, almost liquid,
that descended like a celestial kiss
it bloomed in the void, drawing luminous circles,
soft like dreamy soap bubbles.

At the heart of that expansion… a spiral opened a rift, but not a wound.
A rift like a door.

And through that door, a world was born.

It was pink and white, bathed in milky light
the ground was made of sugared moss, the skies of singing silk
the castles, as tall as calm mountains,
were sculpted from melting sugar, adorned with caramel flowing like waterfalls
the forests danced: mint candies hung from umbrella-tree branches,
foliage rustled in songs
the rivers fizzed like warm sweet drinks,
and the coins were squares of singing chocolate.

And in that world
the inhabitants emerged.

There was Hope, the fairy who bore the name of the world.

She floated in spirals, rainbow dress, starry hair.
With each wingbeat, she left behind glowing confetti
that formed ephemeral poems in the air.

— “I’m the hope you find in the crumbs of broken cookies,” she said with a soft laugh.

Around her, the Slime Knights
little translucent blobs, armed with gleaming gelatin shields,
saluted in bubbles.

“Blob blob! For the queen of Tunder CUTE!”

The Slime Princess, slippery, joyful,
wore a sparkling jelly crown
she rolled on the ground to make the living plushies laugh.

— “I give gooey hugs!” she exclaimed,
before leaping into the arms of an orc knitting a unicorn beanie.

There was the Sandman, dressed in a long beige coat, with a misty smile.
He floated between naps, master of calm dreams and happy memories.

— “A world without nightmares is a sweet world,” he whispered,
blowing a bit of golden sleep on a restless slime.

And of course, there were the cookie pirates,
small cookies shaped like brave shortbread warriors,
wielding candy cane sabers,
sailing on a ship drifting over a river of warm milk.

— “Boarding… the plushies!” they yelled while bombarding the clouds with soft marshmallows.

Finally, the elves and the orcs, now in peace,
planted candy in the gardens of the morning,
knitted cotton candy blankets,
and organized jelly-ball tournaments with the wind’s children.

And at the center of it all... Saphira.

Seated on a throne woven from soft tablecloth,
threads of sugary lightning, and plushies stitched from laughter
no crown, no scepter.
Just her bare feet brushing the singing moss.

The creatures of the world of Hope looked at her with love
with gratitude.

And Hope, the fairy, came to sit beside her.

— “You’re not like the other queens,” she said gently. “You’re the one who made a world… just to heal.”

Saphira smiled.

And in that smile
there was a whole childhood she had never truly had
there was the weariness of having saved too much
and the light of having, this time, given without hurting.

—“This world…,” she murmured.
—“it’s me… when I’m doing well.”

She stood up.

Not to leave.

To promise.

Her voice wasn’t loud,
but it carried like a bell’s song in the fog.

— “May all who flee the screams come here and leave with a smile.”

Élya clapped and in the sky, a rainbow of eternal nap arched forth.

A ribbon of dream

a bridge to hope

a soft spark between two bolts of lightning.

End of Chapter 5 – The Wonderland of Hope.