CW; light gore
Lucy awoke from her dream entirely to find a room full of eyes staring at her.
She had feigned some act of a fainting spell, telling the shopkeepers and every other opponent of the game present that surely all the excitement of the night had simply taken its toll. Though all the while she slipped the key further into the folds of her nightdress, tucking it away from prying eyes.
They had believed her, and after much cooing and cawing and begging of her not to excite her frail form, she and the Baron made their escape.
Thus, it was when they were out of the general view of those playing against them that she at last withdrew the key, holding it delicately in the palm of her hands, turning it before her eyes with a sense of awe. For indeed she had never seen anything quite like it; nothing so magical as what rested between her fingers.
It was delicately made, the material a pale ivory that seemed to glow with its own inner light and cold to the touch no matter how long Lucy held it. Pulsing with a power she felt as it brushed against her skin.
"You'll want to keep that hidden." The Baron said suddenly, eyeing the crowds around them in a somewhat nervous manner. "They're all searching for it and I shudder to think what they might do if the key is found with us."
Lucy snorted. "They'll catch on soon enough if you keep looking around like that."
"Whatever do you mean?"
"I mean you've got a look upon your face that says 'Oh, look at me, I've got something to hide! A magical key perhaps!'"
"Do keep your voice down!"
"It's down enough."
The Baron looked then as though he might offer up a retort, yet in the end he said nothing-- though Lucy thought she saw a slight smile upon his lips.
She said nothing about it, however, caring not whether the Baron found her amusing or not. For now was certainly not the time for amusement; the moon was slowly sinking deeper into the horizon, the light of the stars fading ever so slightly.
Indeed, with the slow unveiling of the coming dawn, it seemed as though the carnival itself shrank away from the very idea of light and a world of the living.
The lights around her were dimmer, she saw. The dark paths of polished black glass far less rich in hue, the music a note or two less jovial than it had been at the beginning of the night. The smiles upon the faces of those who stood at the stalls selling magical wares a bit more forced in nature.
Of these stalls, one caught Lucy's eye; a small blue cart with stars upon the side painted silver-- such stars matching those that dusted the hair of the woman that stood behind it.
She beckoned to them with a smile that showed far too many teeth, her voice almost musical as she began speaking of her wares. And though from the corner of her eye Lucy saw the Baron nodding along and listening, she found herself pulled away by a piece of worn paper nailed deep into the wood of the cart.
Upon it, written in sprawling letters of jet black ink was a list of various items, each with their own, unique prices which had been listed thus: A mirror to glimpse a moment into future was worth a true name. A map that would lead to untold fortunes worth three beats of the heart. A drop of sunlight or a siren's song the price of a spark of one's own inspiration.
It was entirely bizarre, for how could one capture any of these things in the hopes to trade?
Lucy recalled then how the man that had sold her the cake earlier in the night had asked for a lie. And while that had been easy enough to give, there were others that sounded far more sinister in nature.
"What is all this, asking for things that aren't..." she searched for the words then, "Something you usually pay with? Money?"
The woman chuckled at this. "Money does the dead no good, child. Yet some prices are greater than others; do be careful not to give too much of yourself away."
"What do you mean?"
The stranger hesitated then, an unreadable expression crossing her face. Then, with an outstretched hand he pointed to yet another cart across the onyx path from them, a sign above it reading 'For Fame And Fortune.'
Before it stood a young man, his clothes stained with the faint spattering of paint; an artist, perhaps, his voice ringing over the crowd with wishes of galleries and notoriety.
The shopkeeper said something, too quiet for Lucy to hear, and the man nodded as he continued to rave on about his work. And yet as he spoke, his voice grew fainter and fainter still, till at last his lips moved without sound.
At once he clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide in abject terror, wondering perhaps if he had just made a dreadful mistake. Nevertheless, the price had been paid.
Indeed, with such a revelation, Lucy began to notice other such disturbing sights... Along with shops that charged a higher price.
There walked carnival goers with the bloodied stubs of limbs wrapped in cloth stained scarlet. Some were missing hair or teeth, and yet other were like the young man with nothing having visibly been taken. A haunted look of loss upon their faces at the price they had paid.
It was then that the words of her grandmother returned to her, voicing much the same warning as the woman before her had about giving herself away.
"Would you like to buy something now, love?" the woman asked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
With her eyes still fixated upon the young man who now clutched at his throat, his eyes wide as silent gasps escaped his lips, Lucy shook her head absentmindedly. "No, thank you."
And with that, she and the Baron walked on.
...............................................
YOU ARE READING
The Mortal And The Wicked-- ONC 2023
FantasyONC 2023 Shortlister His features had haunted her for years; a boy with silver eyes peering out from beneath a mask of bone. His body cloaked in darkness, a wicked grin upon his lips that spoke of treachery-- a smile that had broken countless hearts...
