She would trade all the spells in the world if it meant she could tell a lie.
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Merle of Thorne is An Anthology of short stories made from prompts under the Fantasmical Contest 2023.
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It was strange to experience the rapid, precise pricking of numerous tiny needles on her skin all at once. It felt akin to pain; yet, Merle couldn't say she was in pain.
Spells and potions were her forte, but bets; not so much.
Thus, here she was getting a tattoo as an indirect result of the wager she lost to Zarek.
The wager's original condition was that the loser would get a tattoo of the tattoo artist's choice, but Merle just couldn't pull it off.
Her reluctance to get a tattoo was due to both the discomfort it would cause and the fact that it would last a lifetime.
She also had no say on what the tattoo would be since it would be the artist's choice. What if she got something she didn't like and ended up with it, forever?
Her determination not to get one pushed her to make a poor bargain with Zarek. But her newly acquired power of glamour gave her the courage to conceal the tattoo if she didn't like it by creating as many illusions as possible.
However, that wasn't the case, because when the artist had finished, Merle loved every ink of it.
The red and green swirl that formed a shape she couldn't identify contrasted perfectly with her glossy yellow skin. It was well placed just below her left palm on the inside of her wrist.
"It's wonderful!" Merle exclaimed, her lips curled in a smile.
"I trust Kliva to do something you'd like," Zarek said from beside her.
Kliva, the tattoo artist, spoke. "One look at you and I knew this was for you."
Merle didn't question Kliva's words and they left the shop in glee.
Zarek, however, was unable to accompany her the entire way back to The Black Hut, where she lived with Nemredith, the Resident Witch, who would soon begin casting hexes if they didn't arrive in time.
As she skipped away, the scent of lemon forced her to cross to the other side of the street to avoid passing directly in front of the lemon shop.
After a few steps, her vision began to blur, causing her to squint, but it didn't help.
With a frown etching her brows, she rubbed harshly at her eyes and it wasn't until she finished that her vision cleared.
She decided to take a shortcut down an alley, but when she did, she yelped.
A green Genie with a little red cap perched on its bald green head was standing in the alley. It floated by the wall, muttering away to itself.
How could she see a genie out of its lamp when she wasn't the possessor of the lamp?
The genie must have sensed her presence as it stilled before looking directly at her.
A moment passed before Merle asked, "How can I see you?"
The Genie's eyes widened. "You can see me! And you're a Fae! Perfect! You can help me."
"Help? You didn't answer—"
"Apologies." The genie interrupted and made a grand bow while keeping its cap in place. "Of course, I cannot access your help if I don't have your trust. And I cannot have your trust if you don't know me. I am Bulruk. You are?"
"Merle of Thorne."
Bulruk nodded.
"I am a genie and you must have been granted access to our parallel realm, Dwiveros."
"Parallel realm?"
"Yes. It's unlike the pocket realms created by other mystical creatures after The Catharsis. Dwiveros lies parallel to Dhilavir. Both are one, yet a thin veil, hidden to the naked eye, lies between them. While people in Dhilavir cannot see us, those in Dwiveros can see everything that occurs there, just without the colour and richness. Unless, like you, they have been granted access."
"Access? But how?"
"You can figure that out later. Now that you know me, can you help me?"
Merle studied Bulruk and, in the process, she saw it. His deepest desire.
"You are searching for something, something... strange."
"Ah yes. I forget you Fae have certain... abilities. Alas! You're correct. I am searching for my Druncans. They are tiny important gems. The only problem is that they have feet and minds." Bulruk sneered when he finished.
"Fine. I will help you, but—"
"Yes, yes. A price." Bulruk drawled with a dismissive wave of his green hand before he went on, "I will grant you one free wish."
Merle nodded "I have just the spell for you. Give me your hand, close your eyes and think of your... gems," she instructed.
Bulruk did as she said and after muttering some words, she opened his hands to reveal speckles of dust in them.
Bulruk didn't question and let her go on. They followed a trail that was revealed when the dust from his hand fell to the ground.
It was a short one and soon they had reached the gems, but what she met with wasn't what she expected.
There, hidden poorly under some leaves, were some tiny gems and upon seeing the genie they began to wail.
"Finally! You are back in my possession."
Bulruk let out wicked laughter. Merle frowned but the sight made her lower lips quiver and tears pricked behind her eyes.
"Please, don't let him take us!" The gems shrieked in unison.
Merle cursed her rotten habit of crying whenever others did.
Bulruk spun to face her. He held a quizzed expression upon taking in hers but he didn't question it; he only asked, "Merle of Thorne, what is it you wish for?"
She didn't want to use her one wish from a genie like this, but her heart clenched.
She was in Nemredith's service and she knew how much she wanted out of it. So when she made her wish, she was sure of it.
"I wish for you set them free."
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