Every child knows the myth: lose a tooth, place it under your pillow, and by morning, a coin will appear. But no one ever asks where the teeth go. Or why the fairy comes in silence. Thirteen-year-old Elsie thought it was just a sweet bedtime story, until her younger brother Ben disappeared one night, the only clue a pile of baby teeth left in his bed—some of them not his. The lights in their small town began to flicker, dreams grew darker, and children started waking with mouths full of ash. Something ancient had returned. Something hungry.
Guided by her grandmother’s forgotten journals, Elsie uncovered the truth: the Tooth Fairy was never a fairy—it was a spirit, older than lullabies, born when humans first offered teeth as tokens of change. In return, it fed on memories, innocence, and fear. Every coin beneath a pillow was a contract. And every child who believed gave it more power. The “Fairy” had once been sealed in a realm between sleep and shadow by the first dreamwalkers—but the modern world, obsessed with screens and stories, had reopened the door. And now, it wanted more than teeth. It wanted form.
Elsie journeyed into the Dreaming Veil—a world stitched together from lost baby teeth, forgotten toys, and whispered lullabies. There, she found Ben locked in a cocoon of sugar and bone, his laughter being siphoned into a cavernous creature with wings made of human molars. The Tooth Fairy wasn’t alone. It had built an army of “Decayers”—children who had given up their last baby tooth without resistance, becoming hollow versions of themselves. With the help of a dreambound raven and a crooked old dentist who once tried to trap the fairy, Elsie devised a plan: offer her final tooth willingly, not as a trade, but as a challenge.
In a final confrontation beneath a shifting sky of nursery rhymes and nightmares, Elsie faced the Fairy, her courage shining brighter than its shadows. She tricked the creature into taking her tooth—imbued with her strongest memory of Ben laughing—and it choked on the love it couldn’t digest. The world cracked open, the veil tearing like tissue paper. Ben awoke in her arms, and the coins left under pillows melted to dust across the town. But as they returned home, a single tooth remained on Elsie’s windowsill—perfectly white, unnaturally still. The Tooth Fairy had been banished, not destroyed. And every time a child places a tooth beneath their pillow, it listens… just in case.
