Sunny Sweetcurie crouched on her kitchen floor, gluing tiny horns onto a doll meant for a child who was half-unicorn, half-something scaled. Wood shavings clung to her sleeves. Three wild puppies snored on her best worktable, refusing to budge. Her ranked list of helpers sat pinned to the fridge, chocolate smudges on the corners. She wanted a real workshop. She wanted shelves, windows, a door that locked. Then a sharp knock rattled the frame, and a voice she hadn't heard since elementary school called her name from the porch. Sunny opened the door. Jack stood on the path outside the bright pink storefront across the way, the old magical girl fan club place with its painted hearts and potted plants. He had grown taller, meaner around the mouth. He jabbed a finger at her. "If you keep this 'bad for the environment' toy business going, I'll burn your house to the ground." Behind him, the stone wall by the planters had been freshly tagged: a screaming skull, neon paint dripping, his initials slashed beneath it. Sunny's hand closed around the small white teddy bear on the entry table, the one with gold wings and a halo, a prototype she had finished last night. She squeezed it. Her knees shook, but her voice did not. "Burn it," she said. "I'll build the workshop somewhere else. Bigger. With witnesses." She lifted her phone and snapped a photo of him, the wall, the dripping paint. "The market elder will want to see this." Jack's face dropped. He swore and bolted down the path. Sunny shut the door, slid to the floor, and tore open a chocolate bar with trembling fingers. The puppies lifted their heads. She showed them the photo. Tomorrow she would carry it, and the bear, straight to the goblin elder. The threat had made her decision for her. She was leaving the kitchen table behind.