Finnea's screams, piercing and haunting, reverberated throughout the cavern, amplifying the weight of the agonizing moment. Baal clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as if he could hold onto her pain and make it his own. But when he could take it no more, he shouted, "Wait! Stop!"

The Dryad's incantation ceased, the glowing sigil vanishing as if it had never been. Her gaze met his, her eyes filled with a mingling of curiosity and scepticism. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No," Baal replied, his voice tinged with a desperate urgency. "But I have something else, something far more precious than what I initially offered. And I believe it will satisfy you more than Finnea ever could."

"And what is this offering?"

He pulled off his necklace, its pendant catching the dim light of the cavern as he approached the Dryads. "This pendant holds my most cherished memory. A moment of pure, untainted happiness."

"And you would give this treasure away? To barter for a child's pain?"

There was a newfound curiosity in the Dryad's voice, an edge of disbelief that anyone would part with something so intimately personal.

He hesitated, staring down at the pendant in his hand as though it could somehow answer for him. "If I return without Finnea, I risk causing immense sorrow to someone I care about. But if I return without this memory, no one will know what's missing, not even me."

He looked up, locking eyes with the Dryad. "To me, that seems like a fair trade."

The cavern was quiet for a moment, the air thick with tension and uncertainty as if the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for the Dryad's verdict.

The word hung heavy in the air. "Show us."

Hesitant, Baal's thumb stroked the surface of the crystal pendant. An ethereal projection materialized before them, casting a soft glow in the cave's darkness.

"But I don't have happy memories to give you!"

"Then we create happy memories together."

The scene cycled repeatedly, each time with the same earnest promise. The Dryads' eyes remained riveted to the projection, their expressions morphing from scepticism to something indefinable.

"This is not a memory," one finally remarked.

"It's a promise!" interjected another.

The last Dryad, her eyes like glowing emeralds, locked onto his. "Did you keep that promise?" she questioned as the projection dimmed and finally vanished.

"Yes, I did."

"How do you know?"

Baal took a deep breath. "There is a tower in the Netherspheres full of those happy memories. There is not one empty shelf left on that tower."

"Aren't you supposed to consume those memories? Isn't that the essence of your dark trade—happy memories turned into magic, into power?" The Dryad's voice sharpened as if cutting through layers of deceit.

Baal sighed, a complex interplay of emotion crossing his face. "Yes, you're right. That's generally how it works."

The Dryads exchanged glances, their faces a mix of consideration and wariness, before finally nodding in unison. "Very well. The trade is accepted."

Baal's hands trembled as he unscrewed the pendant's cap, approaching the Dryad, who had extended her palm. The contents looked like grains of sand, shimmering briefly before losing their lustre. As each grain vanished into the Dryad's hand, the memories they held dissipated from Baal's mind, leaving vacant spaces in his mental landscape.

The last grain disappeared, and Baal felt a strange emptiness accentuated by tears he couldn't quite understand. He wiped his face hastily, his under eyes red but his resolve unbroken. Returning to his backpack, he fumbled for an empty jar and held it out to the Dryads with hands that barely seemed his own.

"Now it's your turn. I've done my part!" His voice cracked, brittle as the forgotten memories he'd just relinquished.

The Dryads looked at each other before extending their hands over the jar. One by one, they allowed droplets of essence to fall from their fingertips into the vessel. It was an unspoken but deeply intimate gesture, a release of the forest's ancient magic. The jar remained less than half full, and the weight felt light to Baal.

"Is that all?" he asked, his voice tinged with an urgency that he couldn't fully grasp.

"It's as much as we can give without harming ourselves," one of the Dryads said solemnly. "Use it wisely."

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"I will," Baal said with a certain bile in his tone.

The Dryads nodded, their forms receding back into the foliage as if they had become one with the forest once more.

Clutching the jar, Baal looked at Finnea. Her eyes met his, filled with questions he couldn't understand and shadows of a memory he couldn't recall.

“Let's go home, Finnea," Baal said quietly, shouldering his backpack.

"Yes, let's," she agreed before halting suddenly. "Wait!"

"What? I promised you'd be back before dark. I don't want to see Nord mad," he said, his eyes tinged with defeat. "Or disappointed."

Finnea looked thoughtful for a moment. "She was younger. Her hair was touching her shoulders." She gestured to a spot just above her own shoulders. "Her eyes were shiny because she'd been crying. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were blushed, and you thought it was adorable. She wore something that made her lips shimmer."

"Lipgloss... it tasted like cherry," Baal mumbled, almost to himself.

Finnea's eyes softened, her smile turning bittersweet. "She was really upset because you'd asked for happy memories in exchange, and she told you she didn't have any to give. You don't know why you said what you said next—maybe you were trying to be poetic or something. Maybe you liked her. But you told her, 'Then we create happy memories together.' It wasn't that promise that made it her happiest memory; it was the fact that those words became her first real happy memory. And that was priceless to you."

Baal's eyes glistened, a faint smile crossing his lips as if touching upon a joy he could no longer fully remember but somehow felt deep within him. "Let's go home now."

"Master, I can say it again if you want," Finnea said, starting to walk beside him.

Baal looked at her, his expression softening even further. "You don't mind?"

Finnea grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Not at all. 'She was very upset because you'd requested happy memories...'"

As they walked, Baal felt a warmth grow within him, as if the fragments of that lost memory were somehow being rekindled, stoked by the words and presence of someone who was as much a part of him as his own soul.

They reached Morningstar's threshold just as the sky blended into shades of orange and purple, signalling dusk. Nord was there, wrapped in a woollen scarf, a look of concern mixed with relief on her face.

"I said before dark, and here she is," Baal announced as if completing a mission.

Nord glanced between them, her cheeks and the tip of her nose tinged with a rosy hue from the cold. "Are you guys okay?" she inquired cautiously.

"If you'll excuse me, Master," Finnea said, offering a curt bow to Baal, then another to Nord, before vanishing inside.

"What happened? You look like someone just died," Nord finally blurted out, her eyes searching his.

"I'm fine," Baal began, but a sudden itch caught in his throat, forcing him to swallow. "Actually, I'm not fine. I hate that I can't lie. Not even small, white lies."

Nord paused, absorbing his words. "So you really can't lie."

"Yeah," Baal admitted.

"It's cold out here," Nord suggested, "You want to come inside?"

"I need to go. I'm worried about the old man. But yes, I do want to come inside," he confessed, torn between duty and a sliver of comfort.

Nord's lips curved into a soft smile. "How about some warm tea, and then I'll throw you out?"

Nord set the kettle on the stove, the flicker of the flame making shadows dance on the walls. Baal took a seat at the kitchen table, placing the jar of Dryad magic in front of him like a newfound treasure.

"Ta-da! Here it is," he announced, looking at the jar and then back at Nord.

"Wow, nice. Was it a complicated trade?" Nord inquired, busying herself with tea leaves and mugs.

"It was emotionally taxing," he admitted, watching the steam rise from the kettle.

"What do you mean?" She looked puzzled as she placed two mugs filled with tea on the table.

"I had to give away my most precious memory," he said, accepting the steaming mug from her with a slight nod.

She sat down across from him, her eyes searching his. "What was it?"

He sighed. "I can't remember," he said, which was true in the most technical sense; he knew what he'd lost but could no longer grasp the memory itself.

Nord seemed to study him for a moment before responding. "Well, we'll make new memories. Happy ones," she said, offering a genuine smile that reached her eyes.

Baal looked at her, then at his tea, and finally back at her again. A gentle smile began to form on his lips. Despite everything he'd given up, Nord's words made him feel like he had gained something invaluable, something immeasurable.

"We'll make happy memories together," she reiterated, her eyes locking onto his.

And as they both took a sip of their tea, Baal couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, a new happy memory was already in the making.

"You're glowing," Nord said, her eyes dropping to the area around his chest.

Baal pulled out his pendant, surprised to see it emitting a soft light. "It's glowing," he echoed, just as intrigued as she was.

"What is it?" she asked.

"My lucky charm, I think," he said, grinning as he took a final sip of his tea and set the mug down. His eyes flickered to the window. "I should go check on the old man, make sure he's still among the living."

"Maybe you should bring him here," Nord suggested her tone a blend of sincerity and practicality.

"Why?" Baal asked, already intrigued.

"Well, he's old. What if something happens and you're not there? At least here, there's always someone around. If it's not me, there's Finnea and Kirara, and even Adamastor if he ever decides to return," she explained. "Besides, there are plenty of empty rooms here. Seems silly for him to be alone."

"Could I build some shelves in his room? If we stay here, I mean," Baal inquired, picturing the old man's empty jars filling the walls.

"I don't see why not," Nord agreed with a shrug.

"Alright, I'll talk to him about it. Thank you," Baal said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on Nord's forehead. "See you tomorrow, Morningstar."

Nord touched the spot on her forehead where Baal had kissed her, smiling as she watched him sling his backpack over his shoulder.

"Thank you, Nord," Baal said, his hand already on the doorknob. "For the tea, for the room, for... everything."

"And thank you for coming back safely," Nord replied, her eyes warm and sincere.

With a final nod, Baal turned and stepped out into the evening chill, the door closing gently behind him. But as he walked away, his fingers touched the pendant that still glowed faintly against his chest.

Whatever he had lost felt somehow less significant in the light of what he might yet find. Nord's suggestion about bringing the old man over seemed more than just practical; it felt like an invitation into a future where happy memories could be created anew.

"See you tomorrow, Morningstar," he whispered to himself as he walked, the words tinged with a newfound optimism, a promise for a better tomorrow.