In a small village, the sun was soft and warm.
Sir Owen the Monster Slayer was a knight. He was brave, but also gentle. He liked to help.
Today, the village looked odd.
The red door was gray.
The blue cart was gray.
Even the green leaves looked gray.
A Princess stood by the well. She held her crown with both hands.
“My colors are gone,” she said, with a tiny sniff.
A Sorcerer in a long coat tapped his staff.
“Hmm,” he said. “A color-stealing curse.”
Sir Owen nodded. “We will bring the colors back.”
He patted his shiny shield. “No scary monsters today. Just a big problem.”
From the stream, a Water Nymph popped up. Splash, splash.
“I saw the Witch,” she whispered. “She flew to the old hill. She took a little jar. It glowed.”
Sir Owen crouched down. “Thank you, friend.”
The Water Nymph smiled. “I can guide you. Follow the water sound.”
They walked past quiet houses.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
They crossed a small bridge.
The Princess counted steps. “One… two… three!”
The Sorcerer said, “Good counting.”
Sir Owen said, “Good teamwork.”
On the hill was a crooked hut.
The air smelled like burnt toast.
A black cat meowed, “Mrrp.”
Sir Owen spoke softly. “Hello, kitty. We are kind.”
The cat blinked and moved aside.
The Witch opened her door. Her eyes were sharp.
“Who taps on my wood?” she croaked.
Sir Owen stood tall, but he did not shout.
“I am Sir Owen the Monster Slayer,” he said. “But I do not want a fight. The village needs its colors.”
The Witch hugged a jar that glimmered inside.
“Colors are pretty,” she muttered. “I wanted them for me.”
The Princess stepped forward. Her voice was small, but steady.
“We can share pretty things,” she said. “Please.”
The Water Nymph splashed the ground. “Colors belong in the world,” she said.
The Sorcerer lifted his staff.
He did not aim it like a weapon.
He drew a circle in the air, slow and calm.
“Let us trade,” he said. “A fair trade.”
Sir Owen reached into his pouch.
He pulled out a tiny silver bell.
Ding.
It was bright and clean.
“I found it on the road,” he said. “You can have this. It shines even in gray.”
The Witch stared at the bell.
Her mouth made a surprised “o.”
“A gift?” she asked.
Sir Owen nodded. “A gift. For giving colors back.”
The Witch’s shoulders dropped.
She held out the jar.
“Take it,” she said. “I do not want lonely colors.”
The Sorcerer opened the jar.
Whoosh!
Red ran like ribbons.
Blue hopped like bubbles.
Yellow danced like little suns.
Green zipped into the trees.
The village woke up.
The Princess laughed. “My crown is gold again!”
The Water Nymph twirled. “The stream is sparkling!”
Sir Owen looked at the Witch.
“Come see,” he said. “You can visit. Not steal. Just visit.”
The Witch blinked, then nodded, slow.
“Okay,” she said.
Back in the village, everyone cheered.
The Sorcerer gave Sir Owen a new reward: a small paintbox made of wood.
Inside were fat crayons that smelled like honey.
“Color-keeper crayons,” said the Sorcerer. “They help colors stay.”
Sir Owen smiled.
He drew a big heart on the grayest stone.
Now it was bright pink.
The Princess clapped.
The Water Nymph splashed.
And Sir Owen the Monster Slayer walked home, proud and happy, with his new crayons safe in his pouch.