In 1993, in the midst of the emerging Radical Faerie movement and the AIDS crisis, a faemily of Faeries rented a home on 38-acres in Northfield, Vermont. Named after the vanity plates on the car of the realtor, Destiny drew Faeries from near and far. They skinny-dipped in the pond, walked the woods, meditated, tended gardens, and, when the sun set, circled around a ritual fire to celebrate Vermont’s starry nights. Destiny became a destination, an ideal faerie sanctuary. But one day, the landowner sold the property, just like that.