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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As much as Merle loved to keep her hands busy, this was not the way she meant.
When the day had started, she never imagined herself sitting on the floor of a rundown hut, somewhere she had never been before counting sugar.
"2897, 2898..."
That Morning...
Merle awoke with a vibrancy in her steps and her wings fluttered in a frantic motion as she darted around the Black Hut where she resided with The Resident Witch of Wynestria, Nemredith.
The Witch's kindness only extended as far as giving Merle one day off... in the whole year.
And that day was today.
Over the years, she'd taken it as a birthday even though it wasn't. In previous years, she had spent it with Zarek or Arlea, the gnome and the cat associated with Nemredith. This year, she was meeting up with two friends.
Out of the populous of Wynestria, few humans tolerated her. Carmel and Lila were a major part of those humans.
"How did Nemredith give you the whole day?" Carmel asked as they ambled down Wynesquare.
"Because it's my birthday," Merle responded and Carmel squealed in glee.
"Birthday? Then we must celebrate" Lila cheered.
And that they did until evening fell. Regardless of how much time she wanted to spend in the city, she had to go back, simply because she wanted to spend time with nature.
Ever since Nemredith started giving her a day off, she always spent the end of the day around nature.
This was why she took the long route back to The Black Hut. Since it was far away from the city side, the only way back was through the woodland.
She could have flown her way back, but where was the fun in that?
An elevated path with a steep fall on each side ran through the forest. Merle had always skipped and danced every time she passed it.
But today, she slipped, losing her balance and tumbling down the side of the road.
She continued to roll until she landed on the flat ground. With a groan, Merle dusted herself off as she stood and was about to fly back to the road above when she heard some rustling.
She knew of this forest and there were tales of something horrific and monstrous within. She trotted forward with a question, seeking to be answered.
A few feet from where she had fallen, she came across a dilapidated hut with the feeble moonlight illuminating it.
"Who lives here?" she asked aloud. But before she could take a step further, something seized her wings, its grip strong and unrelenting.
It lifted her from the ground as she shrieked and struggled. She attempted to shrink but feared if she did so, the creature's hold on her would cause her wings to rip apart.
In the next moment, it stalked forward still holding her to open the hut's door before thrusting her into it.
Merle landed with a thud and scurried to face her predator. Once she did, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose to a standstill.
She recognised it even in the faint light from the lone candle at some distance and the subdued blue glow she emitted. She had seen enough illustrations in various books.
When Merle was new to Nemredith's service, The Resident Witch had always told her of an Old English poem, Beowulf.
It told a tale of a young hero, Beowulf, who ventured out to vanquish the monster, Grendel, that tormented his people.
After killing the monster, the young hero also sought to kill the monster's mother and brought the head of Grendel to his people as proof.
So how was it possible that the same monster stood before her eyes, matching the descriptions she had read about with only one difference? It had only one arm.
"You... Grendel... are alive." She stuttered, fear rooting her in the spot on the floor as the monster towered above her.
Was it going to devour her as it had done to Hrothgar's warriors in the poem?
"Yes, I am," came its hoarse voice that sent more chills through Merle.
"But how?"
"How? The tales you creatures share speak of falsehood. Yes, Beowulf took my arm and then my mother, but I survived. I fled, and I have lived in solitude ever since; tortured by whispers of my failure," the creature hung its head and Merle saw her chance to speak.
She had to get out of here soon.
"Yet you don't want to go out. You keep yourself a secret and I understand why. Humans are judgemental and vile creatures and wouldn't hesitate to hunt you down should they find out that you lived. But don't worry, I am not human." Merle paused as she rose to her feet slowly.
"I am Fae. I do not reveal secrets, so you can trust me," Merle said in honesty because she couldn't lie. But Grendel's eyes widened and his teeth barred in rage.
"You are all the same. How many years have you lived with them and you expect me to trust you? No!" Grendel yelled, but Merle saw her opportunity. She could shrink till Grendel couldn't see her, then zoom away.
"There is no way I shall let you escape or live! You are Fae, right?" It smirked, and just before she could do what she planned, she heard it.
Drops and drops and drops of crystals all clamouring to the floor. The sound was agony to her ears.
She knew what came next. Nemredith had done this to her several times as punishment.
Grendel had wiped a lone glass of sugar before it fell to the floor, breaking on impact, and before she could stop herself, her limbs moved; her knees crawled until she met with the crystals.
"1, 2, 3..."
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