I came to find out that the man's name was Joshua but he was known as Mouse. He was a quiet man - a nervous man - jittery and paranoid as if there was someone just shy of tying a noose around his neck.

I'd led him to the gazebo where he was meant to gather the pillows and rug that'd been too unrestorable to keep and haul them to the fire pit.

"Do you-" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Do you know why they're so..." he trailed off, waving his hand to gesture vaguely around us. "Twittery?"

I turned to stare at the main house. It was a looming tower of glass, the branches of three oak trees interweaving meticulously in, out, and around the structure. I imagined the pixies in the kitchens gossiping excitedly at the news as they kneaded the dough or the sprites that sped here and there to spread the headlines. In fact, I couldn't imagine any Fae in Poppy Grove that wouldn't have the topic of the Elder Tree's messenger on their mouths.

I'd been there when the Master had received the letter from a newly inducted sprite. I'd seen the quirk of a smile out of the corner of my eye as he ignored the sprite that chattered on and on about the honor of delivering to the Commander and how it was his first job as a messenger and how, 'Have you heard the news? The whole city is buzzing about the golem-'

I'd wondered, briefly, what the Master had found amusing until I felt the splatter of warm blood on my face.

The sprite had been decapitated.

"The Elder Tree has chosen the final participant to undergo the Trials of Fire," I said. Mouse looked at me questioningly and I shook my head. "It has nothing to do with us." With humans. It was a Fae matter that required no excitement from mediocrity.

He didn't inquire further and instead, eyed the numerous scorch marks that littered the area.

"When you're done, make your way to the kitchens. There'll be things there that you'll have to take to the fire pit as well. It'll be just inside the doorway. Don't talk to the pixies - they will kill you for it."

He nodded, kneeling next to a particularly scorched section and gathering the pillows in his arms.

I opened my mouth to warn him of something else - the memory of the headless sprite flashing through my head - but I hesitated.

If he had a contract with the Master then it was useless. A warning was wasted on a man whose days were numbered.

~

The woman was waiting for me in the library. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her hair was combed into a low ponytail. She looked cleaner, warmer, livelier save for her eyes. They still stared through me as if I weren't really there.

My explanation was short - do as she was told. There was only one pixie that managed the library and he'd taken up residence in the makeshift loft above the history section in the far corner for as long as I'd known him. Pixies were generally short-tempered, cut-throat heathens. Limiting your interactions with any of them gave you the best chance at keeping your life.

Fraxis was different. He was cold and aloof, a Fae of little words. In all my years, I could count the number of times he'd spoken to me on just one hand. I had a distinct feeling that this wouldn't be a problem for her.

A small movement caught my eye and from behind the woman's legs, peeked out curious blue eyes.

"Your son?" I asked haltingly.

She shook her head but didn't elaborate.

I kneeled, tucking the length of my dress under me and offered a tentative smile. "I'm Ash," I whispered.

The little boy barely came up to her hip, clutching tightly to the woman's skirts. Was he old enough to speak? Maybe he was shy.

"The Master gave me that name," I continued softly. "He said my eyes were like the ashen remains of a fire that'd gone cold." It was half-true. My eyes were indeed the color of ash but he'd given me that name because of how I'd come to bargain with him.

The little boy's face was guarded but his hands had slowly loosened.

"Your eyes are so pretty," I said. "You know what it looks like to me?"

He blinked and shook his head, interest replacing his fear.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"It reminds me of the sky, when the sun has reached its peak on a cloudless day." My smile widened at the look of delight on his face. "Is that what your name means?"

His eyes immediately shuttered and he buried his face into the woman's skirts. I frowned.

"He doesn't have a name," she clarified. I looked up at her, slowly moving to stand. Something flashed in her eyes but it was gone in an instant. "There was no one to give him one."

"So what do you call him?" I asked.

"I don't. He was simply there when your master had come to collect me." I pursed my lips. The Fae Commander might own me but I would never acknowledge him as my master.

I didn't bother to correct her as my gaze shifted to those baby blues. "Can I call you Sky?"

Hope sparked his eyes, small and fragile - just like him - and he burrowed his face deeper into the linen. He gave the tiniest nod and I exhaled. I couldn't tell if I was happy or relieved.

Or was it regret?

I smiled again, if only to ignore the flicker of attachment that had already started to formed.

~

The days blurred into weeks and Mouse, Sky, and the nameless woman had managed to survive thus far.

Sky seemed to stick closely to the nameless woman, spending his days wandering aisle after aisle in silent exploration and I was secretly grateful.

I didn't know the details of his bargain - of any of their bargains - and it was likely that I never would. To begin with, nobody spoke about their dealings with a Fae. No human wanted to admit the shame. No human wanted to endure the judgement. After all, who would want to admit that they groveled and kissed the very feet that trampled them? It was an endless lesson in humiliation and mockery that followed you to the grave.

Yet, the Master - whose mind I couldn't even begin to comprehend - had struck a bargain with a child who barely spoke, if ever. I had wracked my head over the last few weeks with different motives and each one seemed more ridiculous than the last.

I felt a tug on my pinky and I looked down. Sky pointed at my hand and gazed inquiringly.

I crouched, turning my hand palm side up so that he could see the scar properly. It ran across my palm, a clean line about two inches long.

"I'd been careless," I said as he traced my palm. It tickled. "I did something that I wasn't supposed to."

He frowned. His fingers clumsily flipped my hand, his finger brushing the accompanying scar.

"It didn't hurt," I assured. He stared at me in disbelief and I smiled encouragingly. "You know why?"

He shook his head.

"It's because I have a secret power," I whispered conspiratorially. "Whenever bad things happen to me, I just close my eyes and think of my happy place."

A lie - one of many. I had no happy place to think of and it most certainly had hurt.

I had advocated for the mercy of a friend. 'All for naught,' the Master had said, anchoring a blade through my hand into a wooden post, forcing me to watch her burn until long after her screams had died.

I pushed the guilt aside, tucking the memory away.

"Do you have a happy place?" I asked Sky.

He cocked his head, deep in thought. I smiled, tousling his hair as I returned to the task at hand. The Master required a book on the Fae that had undergone the previous trials and I ran my fingers lightly over the spines until I found it. I pulled the tome from its place and grunted under the weight.

I admired the embossed cover. The lettering was gold and meticulous: A Historical Account of the Trials of Fire: An Accurate Observation of the Trials and the Fae Graced by the Elder Tree.

I clutched it to my chest and left for the Master's study. I glanced behind me to say goodbye but Sky seemed deep in his heavy contemplation.

While I struggled to carry the tome with both arms, the Master merely needed a hand to grab it from mine.

I stood quietly at his side as he opened it delicately, the pages fluttering from left to right until he settled on a page. It depicted a Fae, arms out, walking through a roaring fire.

"It's never known how the Elder Tree is able to differentiate the potential of the Fae but it is known how they are nominated. A messenger is sent in the form of a golem by which the Elder Tree graces the chosen Fae with its blessing. It is believed that any Fae that attempts to undergo its trials without such a blessing will have their magic turned on them - an agonizing death by fire, ensuring that they are unable to return to the embrace of the Elder Tree although, this has largely been accepted as mere supposition."

"It's quite an interesting read, isn't it?"

I flinched, averting my gaze.

The Master turned the page as he skimmed the contents. "Do you know why the Aeds must undergo the Trials of Fire when no other kingdom is required to do the same?"

I didn't answer. I was sure he'd tell me anyway.

"The Elder Tree saw fit to take the last Aedic King and his consort from us- oh," he trailed off, "some three thousand years ago. Quite the number for a human like you but for me, it was a mere blink in time."

I widened my eyes but was otherwise, still. I knew Fae - the Si in particular - lived centuries, no, eons longer than my kind did but to have the Master admit that he, himself, had lived the span of at least 300 lifetimes made me feel like a child.

"I was barely grown then, just coming into my magic - eager, impulsive," he paused. His finger pressed lightly against the corner of a page, "ambitious. I still remember the exact moment the King realized he was going to die. To this day, I hadn't quite seen anything like it."

He turned the page and lifted another.

"You see, the Aeds are a wild sort," he explained, pressing his finger against the edge. "A feverous, fervorous, fanatical sort. It's why our elemental magic, at its core, is fire."

In one swift motion, he pushed up. I inhaled sharply, watching as blood rose to the surface, three red beads lined one after the other on his forefinger.

"However, the King had an all-consuming, voracious appetite and for that, he was punished. Any Fae may take as much as the Elder Tree gives but not a single crumb more."

The smallest bit of blue flared, flitting over his finger so fast that I almost missed it.

"Do you understand the answer to the question now?" he asked.

I didn't. This small bit of history had only served to confuse me further.

"Answer me, Little Ashling."

My response was immediate. "Yes, Alvar."

He chuckled. "No, you don't but I have every faith that you will."