Clover raced along the shadowy, twisted forest path, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I should have left earlier while the sun was still high. Since childhood, she had been warned about the dangers that prowled the Coillte Dubha Woods. Ancient, ravenous creatures stalked the shadows, eager to feast on anyone foolish enough to cross their paths in the dark. Wind whipped the trees and the distant, unintelligible whispers returned.

A frigid chill gripped Clover and transported her to a childhood memory. She and Lily were playing Hide-and-Seek near Mrs. O'Toole's cottage. Clover had hidden in a bush next to the house. She overheard Mrs. O'Toole explaining to a curious visitor how Clover's mother fell ill. No one knew how to heal a fairy, so her parents left for Bryn. When her parents never returned, everyone assumed they had been devoured in these very woods.

True or not, I don't intend to join them.

She quickened her pace, matching the speed of the racing questions in her mind. Fairy Godmother Doherty had imparted a lifetime of wisdom to her. Unpacking and reflecting on it would take time. Lost in thought, she let her feet guide her along the forest path.

The abrupt appearance of an old lady in the middle of the path ended Clover's musings. Her heart skipped a beat. Unless the woman was blind, she was exposed, unable to cast a Diversion Spell to hide herself.

The woman's frail body, bent by the weight of countless decades, seemed to sag beneath the burden of time. Her stringy, white hair cascaded like a silver waterfall down her hunched shoulders, and her thin, liver-spotted skin hung in loose folds. With each labored step, her gnarled hands leaned heavily on her cane. Her beady eyes, like two tiny black coals, peered out from beneath sagging eyelids, their gaze sharp and penetrating, as if they could see into Clover's very soul.

Clover's eyes went wide. This wasn't an old lady — it was an Ancient Woman, rumored to be the last of the wood dryads of mythology.

"Good eve, child," the Ancient Woman croaked. "I'm headed to Fairy Godmother Doherty's cottage. Is it much further? I keep asking the trees, but they are stubborn and unfriendly."

A gust of wind caused the trees to creak and moan in protest. The woman rapped the closest tree with her cane and the wind settled down.

"A mile or more," Clover replied as she stared in astonishment. The stories are true. She can control the trees.

The woman rubbed the small of her back. "Such a long way yet to go and I don't move as fast as I used to."

"I'm a Fairy Godmother, perhaps I can help?" Clover blurted out, the words tumbling out before she could think. Her chest swelled with pride at the thought of helping such a rare magical being.

"Well, goodness me! What luck we've met. I've a simple wish for you, dear girl - I wish to be young again!"

Clover's shoulders slumped. That's not a simple wish. It doesn't feel right meddling with age itself. Recalling Fairy Godmother Doherty's words about fulfillment and happiness, she knew there was a better solution.

She picked up a large pinecone. A quick wave of her wand transformed the pinecone into a jar of enchanted face cream. "This will make you feel - and look - decades younger," she said while handing over the jar.

"Such a thoughtful solution to an old woman's silly desire," the woman replied with a smile. "Willowbud always serves me tea when I make that wish." She smacked the nearest tree with her cane. "Let this one pass," she said and headed in the direction she'd come from.

As the Ancient Woman shuffled away, Clover's wand glowed in a way she'd never seen before. Warmth rushed through her veins, her blood fizzing electric. Ethereal wings formed from magic sprouted from her shoulder blades and lifted her off the ground.

"Apparent, indeed!" she cried as she twirled in midair. She marveled at the sensation until the magical effect wore off, the fairy wings faded away, and she touched down.

For the remainder of her journey, the forest was brighter, less menacing, and the tree branches didn't catch on her clothing. Clover raced down the forest path, joy coursing through her. "If this is what it feels like to properly grant wishes, I can't wait to show everyone!"

Her feet barely brushed the ground, even on the steep mountain trail, as she dashed towards her home.

* * *

Clover entered Glenaleen right as the sun kissed the horizon, bathing the village in a warm orange glow. As she approached her home, she was dismayed to see a crowd of villagers milling about outside.

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A rustling in the bushes made Clover freeze, every muscle tensing. Had something followed her from the woods? She strained to peer into the shadows, her imagination conjuring up all manner of dark, sinister creatures.

"Clover Quinn, I've been worried all day you ran away." Lily's hushed voice reached out through the shadows. "Where'd you go?"

"I did, sort of. I went to ask the fairy godmother of Bryn for help."

"You went by yourself! Why didn't you ask me to go with you?"

"After our last conversation, I…"

Lilly struggled to speak. "I'm sorry, Clover. I never should of said those things." She sniffed and wiped her nose. "I hope you found the answers you needed."

"Fairy Godmother Doherty was very helpful." Clover pointed to the crowd. "What's going on?"

"I've been making up stories about your whereabouts. They figured out I was lying… which is why they're camped outside your house. Sorry."

Before Clover could respond, her friend disappeared into the darkness, leaving her alone to face the expectant crowd.

"There she is!" Mrs. O'Toole exclaimed, her bony finger aimed like a weapon, pointed at Clover. "It's about time you got back! We've been waiting all day to get our wishes!"

Clover blinked in astonishment as two dozen sets of expectant eyes turned to her. A chorus of murmured requests filled the air, each villager pressing closer, their voices overlapping in a desperate clamor to be first.

She raised her hands in a futile attempt to calm them. "Now, now, please, one at a time!" she called over the din.

"I want a fishing rod that catches the fish for me!"

"Make my cottage twice as large!"

Mrs. O'Toole pushed her way forward. "I'm tired of doing laundry. I wish for clothes that wash themselves." The crowd's anger was palpable, but the old woman had been the first to say the magic words — I wish.

Clover gazed at her entitled neighbor. Her first test at asserting herself. With an exaggerated smile, she joked, "I don't think we want your wardrobe wandering the streets. How about I give you enchanted laundry powder that keeps clothes from getting stained?"

Mrs. O'Toole grumbled, "I suppose that will do."

The villagers surged forward, their hands reaching for Clover in desperation to have their desires fulfilled. In the ensuing chaos, her wand was torn from her grip. A sickening crack echoed through the air as it snapped in two, the pieces clattering to the ground.

Clover's heart broke in two with it. With trembling fingers, she retrieved the broken halves. She called on her internal nature magic to bind the wand together. But when she gave it an experimental wave, only feeble sparks emerged.

She broke out in a cold sweat as anger at herself and the crowd washed over her. Her voice wavering, she forced a smile and said, "It's been a long day and I'm too tired for more magic tonight."

The villagers grumbled but dispersed, leaving Clover to retreat into her hut. She collapsed on her bed, reeling from the damage to her wand.

* * *

Clover attempted to eat dinner, but her appetite had vanished alongside her happiness. Doubts consumed her mind. She had failed again, in the worst way imaginable. Was her wand broken beyond repair? Had she lost her powers forever?

The memory of wielding that power, of controlling the outcome of wishes, now filled her with a bitter regret. How could she have ever wanted to relinquish that role? Had fate itself conspired to strip her of her abilities? What was her role in the village if she couldn't perform as a fairy godmother? Was the pact between her and the village forever broken?

Clover's face paled as the room spun. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. A wave of panic crashed over her, threatening to drag her under. What if the other villagers secretly resented her like Mr. Doyle? Had they raised her only to become a fairy godmother, and now deemed her worthless? Would they shun her? Banish her? Or worse? She shuddered at the possibilities swirling through her mind.

Memories of her childhood, when she had felt like an outsider, came flooding back. If she were human, she could flee to another village and quietly make a new life. But as a fairy, where could she run? The thought of leaving her home, her friends, her very identity behind, filled her with dread.

She closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her.

Sometime later, a sharp knock roused her from her fretful slumber. Clover's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the Ancient Woman from the woods. She's come to take me away, just like in the stories.

The Ancient Woman, appearing decades younger but anxious, squeezed past her. "I can't stay long. The magic here is too weak." She tapped her cane on the wall of the tree house. "And not enough trees." The willow tree creaked in response with a woody groan. "After your act of kindness in the forest, I felt compelled to offer a warning."

Clover's hair stood on end, recalling her visions of angry mobs and banishment. "A warning? About what?"

The Ancient Woman seated herself at the small dinner table. "I've lived so long that I've forgotten the name my kind had before we became the Ancient Ones. Been a friend to the Quinn fairies for centuries. I knew your mother from the time she was a child." She looked lost in the past as she smiled. "Always so intent on making others happy."

"What happened to her? I was told she fell ill and died on the way to get medicine when I was an infant."

The Ancient Woman grimaced. "Fell ill? Is that what they're saying happened?" She cleared her throat. "Like all magical beings, fairies' bodies are mostly made of magic. It's this innate magic which is the source of your abilities. Your mother tried so hard to grant every foolish wish that she exhausted her reserve of magic faster than it could be replenished. She became so frail and hollow that one day she faded out of existence. Poof. Gone."

Clover shuddered. "That's…terrible."

"Heed my advice young lady. You own your magic, not the villagers. Serve as their inspiration instead of a solution for every problem. Teach them those lessons early or risk suffering the same fate."

Clover offered to let her stay for the night rather than risk the dangers of the wilderness at night, but the Ancient Woman declined and left. Clover returned to bed and stared at the ceiling while a plan formed in her mind.