Oskar clutched the satchel close to his chest, knowing he carried precious cargo. The pulsing thrum grew louder as he followed his invisible path, his feet moving with a certainty he didn't fully understand. The air felt charged, thick with a quiet intensity that made his skin prickle.

The trees thinned ahead, revealing a small clearing bathed in soft moonlight. He hesitated at the edge, his breath uneven. This was the place. He could feel it. The ground itself seemed to hum beneath his boots, alive with something unseen.

Slowly, Oskar lowered himself to his knees and unfastened the satchel. His hands trembled as he withdrew the horns—smooth, now pale remnants of creatures long gone. And then the final piece: the crystalized horn. It felt heavier than before, as if the essence within it was waiting, yearning for release.

"Here goes nothing," he murmured under his breath.

One by one, he placed the horns on the ground, arranging them in what felt like a natural pattern. He hesitated only a moment before setting the crystalized horn in the center. The earth should reclaim them, shouldn't it? Shouldn't something happen?

He waited.

The wind whispered through the trees. The air still thrummed, but nothing changed. The ground didn't stir. The horns remained exactly as they were.

A knot of frustration coiled in his stomach. Had he misunderstood? Was he missing something?

And then—

The space before him shimmered, like moonlight reflecting on water. A strange pressure built in his chest, pressing against his ribs, urging him to look up.

A figure stepped forward, emerging from the shimmer.

Oskar's breath hitched.

The Unicorn was like something out of a legend—tall and ethereal, its silvery-white coat catching the moonlight, making it seem more spirit than flesh. Its mane cascaded down its neck like flowing water, each strand glowing faintly with an inner light. But it was the eyes that held Oskar in place—vast and ancient, filled with a knowing that sent a shiver down his spine.

The horn atop its head pulsed in time with the crystalized horn on the ground, as if the two were linked. A soft, resonant chime filled the air, neither sound nor music, but something deeper—felt rather than heard.

The Unicorn took a step closer, lowering its head toward the offerings Oskar had placed before it.

And then, to his astonishment, the process began.

The horns shimmered, their edges blurring. Light seeped from them like mist, sinking into the soil. The crystalized horn was the last to dissolve, its glow pulsing one final time before it, too, melted into the earth.

Only the unicorn remained, watching him.

A thought whispered through Oskar's mind—whether it was his own or something the creature had placed there, he couldn't tell.

You have done well. My people are grateful to your diligence.

The realization settled in his chest, heavy and humbling. It wasn't his responsibility to restore the horns. He just needed to bring them to the right place. The Unicorn had the responsibility to finish the process. The revelation made his heart pound harder in his chest.

Oskar swallowed hard, unable to look away.

The question burned in his mind.

What happens now?

The Unicorn folded its legs beneath its body with an otherworldly grace, its luminous eyes never leaving Oskar as it lowered itself to the earth, the silver glow of its mane spilling across the ground like liquid moonlight.

The prince tilted his head to the side. A voice entered his mind was calm and kind, yet it carried an undeniable weight, like an echo of something ancient and wise. Oskar swallowed, unsure whether he had truly heard it or merely imagined the words. His fingers curled tighter around the satchel strap as he knelt instinctively, the presence of the Unicorn pressing against his very soul.

"You share our sorrows."

The words lingered in the air between them, not spoken, yet deeply felt. Oskar opened his mouth, uncertain of how to respond, but the Unicorn merely watched him, its breath steady, its gaze unwavering. A breeze whispered through the trees, stirring the silver strands of its mane, and as the wind passed over the earth, the ground beneath the discarded horns shimmered faintly, as if answering an unspoken call.

"Because the act is abominable," he whispered in reverence. "We are raised with just stories, but it baffles me anyone would do such a thing."

"You desire to see this killer caught. The horns you recovered belonged to my sisters."

"Sisters? Are most Unicorns female?" Oskar asked, his curiosity brimming like a cup overflowing.

"Females are more common, yes."

He nodded, "What now?"

"Return to your bed," the Unicorn replied with its thoughts. "Rest and replenish your bones. Then meet me here, tomorrow morning."

Calm came over Oskar as he accepted the Unicorn's suggestion. He rose to his feet, satchel in hand, lowering his head in a reverent bow. And then, without another word, he turned toward the path from which he came.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he slept; Oskar hardly remembered returning to his bed. But as the morning sun entered through the curtains, he glanced around as if the room were a foreign place.

Then he felt it. A soreness prickled in his feet and a chill danced down his spine.

I saw a Unicorn.

Oskar sat up in his bed and realized he had his satchel beside him. The flap was open and the interior bare.

"That was real," he said to himself with a yawn. "Oh! I was supposed to wait until morning."

"What for?"

His gaze snapped forward and he gasped when he saw his brother standing there.

"How is it possible to appear well rested, and yet you have dark circles under your eyes?" Erasmus asked, crossing his arms as Oskar scooted out of bed.

The younger prince chuckled, but it was interrupted by a yawn. He grimaced as he feet touched the hard floor, the soreness intensified.

"That will be the last time I hike without proper boots," he mumbled as he reached for his robe. "You're here early. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Early?" Erasmus chuckled as he shook his head. "Little brother, its half-past morning tea. You overslept."

Oskar blinked, "I did?"

He marched passed his brother and went out onto his private balcony. Sure enough, the sun was nearing its highest peak. The afternoon meal would be announced soon.

"Do you still intend to bring the horns back to the forest?" his brother asked, appearing beside him.

"Err, well..." Oskar cleared his throat, hesitant to give his answer. "Brother, I already brought them back. In the middle of the night, I just... I acted without thinking."

"Unusual for you, I must say."

"Yes, but I cannot make this up: I saw an actual Unicorn."

After a pause Erasmus said, "Of course you did."

Oskar scoffed, "Keep your teasing to your chest, please. With everything we've read and discovered recently, why would I lie about this?"

"I was not teasing," his brother replied, clapping him on the back. "Of all the people I know, you are the one person who would be the one to have such encounters. I meant it as a compliment. So what are you going to do now? Since you already brought the horns back."

"I haven't the slightest idea."