Elzra Kettlemoor had not slept in four nights, and it was his own staff that kept him awake. The copper wire wound around the gnarled wood hummed low and steady, day and night. That hum drew the thing that stalked him now. He needed to charge the staff with enough wild magic to reopen the sealed doorway to his fairy homeland. But every drop of magic made the humming louder. And the louder it hummed, the closer the hungry thing came. He crouched under a bent tree at the field's edge. His patched coat pulled tight against the cold. His two-headed dragon lay coiled beside him, both icy heads turned toward the dark. The dragon had wandered with him through every year and every country. Its horns caught the last light. One head growled. The other snapped at the empty air. "Easy," Elzra whispered. "It smells the staff. Same as we smell rain." The thing came at moonrise. It moved through the tall grass without bending a single blade. No shape, only a cold that killed the crickets. The dragon rose. Frost cracked from its scales. Elzra held the staff high, and the copper screamed. He knew he could not fight it. He had known for four nights. The hunger did not want his life. It wanted the staff's power, the same wild magic he needed. So he chose the only path left. He would give the power away. "Elzra!" A boy ran across the field, boots slapping mud. It was the young farmer, Eli King. Three days back he had solved one of Elzra's riddles when the whole village had failed. The old fairy had marked him then, and never told him why. "Get down!" Elzra shouted. But the boy did not run from the cold thing. He ran toward it. He held something over his head. A fruit, round and glowing, marked with pale moons. Elzra had told the village that riddle too, the one that named where such fruit grew. "You said the worthy one would bring the light back!" Eli called. "You said follow the moons!" Elzra understood. The fruit held wild magic, ripe and pure. Enough to fill the staff at once. Enough to end the humming. "Then bring it here, boy, and do not drop it!" Eli pressed the fruit against the copper. The staff drank it in one long pull. The hum swelled once, then stopped. Full silence. The cold thing shrieked and tore back into the wild, starved. Elzra breathed for the first time in four nights. The staff sat heavy and full in his hands, charged at last. The doorway could open now. But he looked at Eli, muddy and grinning, and knew the truth. The fruit was gone. The staff was ready. And the one worthy to carry it home was a farm boy who had never left this village.