The last time Clover visited Bryn was a fond, but hazy, memory from her childhood. People from far and wide had flocked to Bryn for a grand ceremony or jubilant celebration. As a child, the pageantry of the festivities had enthralled her, not the arrangement of the streets. Her destination unknown, Clover wandered through the bustling streets until she stumbled upon a modest ivy and flower-covered cottage with a well-tended garden at the far edge of town. There were no large trees in Bryn and it was the only house she'd seen that looked suitable for a fairy.

Clover stood before the green door, water droplets falling from her damp hair into her eyes. She did her best to make herself look presentable before knocking softly. She waited, but there was no answer.

What if I heard wrong and Bryn doesn't have a fairy godmother? Now what do I do? Her shoulders slumped with the growing realization her journey had accomplished nothing.

As she turned to walk away, a woman's voice called out from behind her. "Excuse me, little girl. Was that you who knocked?"

Clover turned to see a petite, middle-aged woman. Her salt-and-pepper hair was done up in a tidy bun and her eyes crinkled with kindness. Her teeth chattered while she spoke. "Hello, are… are you.. the, the Fairy Godmother… of Bryn?"

"Yes, my name is Fairy Godmother Doherty." The woman looked her up and down. "Good gracious, you poor thing. How far did you travel to get here?"

"Ov… over the mountains, from Glen… Glenaleen." She wrapped her arms around her to stop shivering. "My name is Fairy Godmother Clover Quinn." She shivered. "May I come in?"

"Little Clover?" the woman exclaimed. "You've grown up—and are a fairy godmother! Has it been that long? No wonder I mistook you for a human child." Fairy Godmother Doherty stepped aside, beckoned Clover in, and gestured to a chair by the fireplace.

The earthy scent of dried herbs reminded Clover of the forest. Ancient tomes with cracked leather bindings covered every surface, creating an atmosphere of mystery and magic. Glowing embers in the fireplace bathed the room in a warm, inviting glow.

While the elder woman added kindling and stoked the fire, Clover soaked in the heat. Fairy Godmother Doherty poured them both a steaming cup of herbal tea. Its aroma filled the air with a soothing fragrance. She refilled the kettle and then joined Clover by the fireplace.

"Thank you, Fairy Godmother Doherty," Clover said while wrapping her chilled fingers around the warm cup.

"You're welcome, Fairy Godmother Quinn."

Clover blushed. "I'm still getting used to the title after being just 'Clover' all my life."

Willowbud's crinkled eyes sparkled with the same warmth as her tea. "No need to be formal. You can call me Willowbud. How may I help you?"

Clover took a deep breath. "I'm figuring out how to use the wand to grant wishes, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do as a fairy godmother."

"Didn't your mother teach you how to—" Willowbud's face flushed red. "Forgive me, I forgot Violetpetal Quinn was your mother. Such a tragedy.

"For someone without a mentor, it sounds like you've figured out the mechanics. You'll grow into the role, but I sense your true concern isn't with your self-confidence. Why did you really brave the forest to come here?"

"It's all too much," Clover stammered, her bottom lip quivering. " I can't do it." She blinked back the tears burning behind her eyes.

Willowbud clasped Clover's hand, her touch warm and comforting. 'Becoming a Fairy Godmother is a challenging transition,' she said, her eyes filled with concern. "There's something more, isn't there? What really troubles you?"

Clover poured out her heart, recounting her troubled lunch with Lily and the unsettling encounter with Mr. Doyle, divulging the details of his wish. "He's always been like a father to me. When he grew angry, I became frightened. Then he mentioned a pact with humans. I felt trapped, with no choice but to grant his wish."

Willowbud's face darkened, and she nodded with grave concern as Clover continued. "As soon as I granted it, I became ill. I can barely sleep, tormented by what I have done." Her eyes pleaded as her voice sank to a whisper. "Please, tell me how to be rid of the power."

The elder fairy put down her cup of tea. Her face no longer showed the pleasant features of a kindly older woman. "I see that you're hurting, Clover, but I'm going to provide some tough love to save you from making a terrible mistake."

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Squirming beneath the stern gaze, Clover averted her eyes.

"Fairies are a conduit for magic. Fairy godmothers draw it out, amplify it, and replenish it in the same way exercising a muscle increases its strength. Without a fairy godmother, your village has been using up its magic. Granting wishes and replenishing the magic is your role in the village, the same as the baker's role is to bake bread."

Clover stared at her hands clasped tight in her lap. She had come seeking answers, hoping to escape the overwhelming burden of her newfound responsibility. Instead, she'd been scolded and told to learn how to live with it. "What if I'm doing more harm, in the long run, than good? Surely, they'd want me to stop."

"Maybe a handful of them could respect that decision, but an entire town?" Willowbud shook her head. "How many humans do you know that can resist the temptation of a delicious pastry sitting in front of them? They've had a taste of your magic, and they won't be able to let it go." She leveled her gaze at Clover. "And neither could you."

"I've only been a fairy godmother for a week. I'm certain I could stop—"

Willowbud leaned forward until Clover could feel the woman's breath on her face, her eyes intense and unwavering. "There is something you must never speak of to any human, no matter how close you are to them."

Her eyes darted around the room as if looking for eavesdroppers. "When a fairy godmother hears the words, 'I wish' coupled with a wish, we are magically compelled to grant it. If you resist, the compulsion will only grow stronger until you give in. If a human learns this, they can use it to control you like the reins of a horse."

Clover shuddered, remembering how powerless and violated she felt when she complied with Mr. Doyle's wish. She recalled a cryptic remark he made while enraged. With a hushed voice, she asked, "Is it because of the Pact?"

Fairy Godmother Doherty leaned back; her eyes distant. "The Pact. Many ages past, when humans were still new to these lands, magic was abundant. It was as ever-present as the air."

"Where did the magic go?"

"Everything that grows from a seed, is hatched, or is born absorbs some magic from the world. Humans multiply far faster than magical creatures and fae folk. Although they can't wield magic, they learned to imbue magic into things they craft. Over the centuries, they depleted the magic of the world. With less ambient magic available, fewer magical creatures like fairies could exist.

"Facing eventual extinction, we made a pact with the humans," Willowbud continued. "In exchange for lifelong protection and care, fairies pledged to use our unique connection to magic to grant human wishes."

Clover sipped her tea, her ears focused on the story.

"The delegation of fairies who forged the sacred Fairy and Humans Pact established two immutable rules," Willowbud said, holding up two crooked fingers. "First and foremost, the human must show worthiness of their wish, and not use it for harm or selfish desires."

Clover flushed, thinking of Vakur.

"Second, as stewards of magic, a fairy godmother may use discretion in how she grants the wish. Our only obligation is to satisfy the intent of the wish."

A frown creased Clover's brow as she contemplated this newfound revelation. The realization she possessed the ability to interpret and adapt wishes, rather than being bound to fulfill them verbatim, was both empowering and daunting.

"If someone has already mentioned the Pact, there will be more difficult times ahead," Willowbud said. "I know you have it in you, even if you can't see it yet. You will soon find the courage you need."

Clover nodded, a new resolve strengthening her spine and amplifying her courage. Yet, a nagging concern lingered in the depths of her mind. "With the ability to make wishes come true, how will I know I am using my power responsibly?"

Fairy Godmother Doherty's eyes twinkled as she gave Clover's hands a reassuring squeeze. "I'll let you in on a trade secret, the people you serve are not all that complex to understand."

Clover bristled. "The people of Glenaleen may not be as sophisticated as those in Bryn, but they're not simple or stupid."

Willowbud looked taken aback and then she reached out to grasp Clover by her shoulders. "That passion for your people is exactly what you need," she said. "However, that's not what I meant."

She sat back and continued dispensing advice. "Humans have considerably more opportunities than us, but they constrain themselves through lack of imagination or initiative. They take on roles and professions that align with their community's needs, their innate talents, and where they live. A human raised in the mountains is far more likely to become a miner than a fisherman. That's what his community needs. Conversely, those raised near bountiful waters are more inclined to find their calling in fishing."

Clover nodded. "I have noticed that sons and daughters almost always choose the professions of their parents."

Willowbud nodded. "Only a rare few humans want to radically change their circumstances and choose a different life. Their wishes are the most challenging.

"During my many years as a fairy godmother, I've learned that most wishes fall into one of two categories. Either their wish is for something that gives them more fulfillment in their life or increases their happiness. Often, a change in one improves the other. Interact with your community. The more you know about their needs and desires, the more confident you'll be in determining which of those two outcomes their wish truly seeks to achieve."

"Until then, how do I decide which is appropriate?" Clover's eyes searched Willowbud's.

"Trust your heart. It will tell you when you are on the right path."

Clover stared into the fire. "Deep down, I knew I could never give up this new ability even if you had offered. But how can I know when my heart is on the right path? What if my emotions cloud my judgement?"

The elder fairy snorted and laughed. "It will be apparent." She continued to chuckle while sipping her tea, not divulging any more information.

Clover contemplated what she had learned as she finished her tea. She glanced out the window, startled to see the sun low on the horizon. "Thank you for everything, Willowbud," she said, rising from her chair. "I should get back before sunset."

"Take care and remember all I've said."

Clover embraced the older fairy before hurrying out the door, her steps light despite the long return journey ahead.