**18+ ONLY**
It is well known that when seeking out a witch, an offering is to be given in exchange. Some witches are picky about their payment types. The new witch in Arvos, though, offers a range of options: food, herbs, alcohol, pets, secrets, de...
Every time I stepped into the archives, my heart danced. So much knowledge and insight and history. Wrenching myself out of these walls was always a chore; I could spend months in here, undisturbed, without noticing.
"Ah, Witch. Back again," intoned Lybras, the head archivist. Ve was a dragon, who took a partial humanoid form while in vis archive—easier to move around with a smaller body. Though vis horns still proved cumbersome in certain areas. Vis scales were a brilliant turquoise, dabbled with navy and oceanic stripes, that stood out from the leather and paper books even in dimmest of candlelight. "What are we hunting today?"
"Garrán i bhfolach. Or as close to it as I can get."
Ve stopped mid motion and dragged vis stony gaze to me. "That is no simple spell."
"I have no simple client."
Ve harrumphed and organized vis work before standing and jerking a claw for me to follow. Deeper and deeper into the sea we waltzed. How such a large being in a secondary form moved so adeptly amazed me. I stumbled on a few stairs, misjudged a corner and banged my shoulder, and almost ran into another guest. It felt like five minutes before we finally stopped in the most solitary nook possible in the archive.
Towering at the end of a narrow hallway was a grand, iron door with runic reliefs. It was spelled to repel magics. No wonder it was so far set from everything else.
"It has been some time since I could certainly say that spell resided here, but it would be in there." Lybras gave me a sidelong stare. "Are you certain about this?"
Less so than I was when I first came in here. Why was it such a restricted spell? I already figured it was a complicated spell but I didn't guess this. I was beginning to see why ichor was a reasonable payment. "Yeah," I halfheartedly smiled. "Let's do this."
"One hour." Ve opened a small cabinet mounted on the wall and retrieved the rope and harness it held. It was secured to the wall at one end, and was long enough to reach anywhere in the vault beyond. Since the room drained magic, it was a failsafe to prevent death. Being closer to the mundane human race, I could survive longer in there. Still, it was not going to be pleasant.
And so began my hunt.
Nails hammered into my skull as my guts were pulled out through my throat. That's what it felt like anyway. I was conscious of the pain wracking my body long before I regained any motor functions. Once I plied my eyes open, the world slowly pieced together. It was a fight to keep my eyes open for more than a second, but gradually I managed.
I was home. I didn't recall how I got here. I was at the archive, searching for the hamadryad's spell. My mind was too hazy to search for deeper answers.
"Mistress! You're awake." Caera's energy flooded my body, making me shiver. She backed off but kept near. "A mielikki brought you home. And... you have a guest." The sharpness of her final words made me concerned. Who was here, and why was Caera bothered by them?
"Who?" I managed to croak out. Damn talking hurt. I made a gesture and mouthed water. I felt her leave but before she came back—
"May I come up?" came the voice of the hamadryad. Ah. Now I empathized with Caera's bitterness. It was his fault I was in this state. Partially anyways.
"Fine," I rasped. He came up and perched on the foot of my bed just as Caera was returning with a glass of water. I struggled sitting up. He helped me. We locked eyes and it made me uncomfortable the amount of concern his face held. I mouthed thanks to him, then eagerly took the glass hovering beside me and greedily drank it all down.
A beat passed, neither of us having any words to say. Actually I had plenty of words I wanted to throw at him, but I worried I'd be unable to rein my emotions and further hurt my throat by yelling.
"I can help," he quietly offered. "With your pain and magic depletion, I mean. Though I'm not sure you'd be happy with it right now."
My brow furrowed. I assumed he meant giving me some ichor, but I couldn't piece together why I might be against it. He already revealed that there were different types of ichor; did he mean I wouldn't like the kind he'd give me? Or was it the method of giving it to me? Perhaps both. With my luck, likely both. Despite my reservations, I nodded. I felt like hell.
He moved closer and I tensed as he drew into kissing distance. He hesitated. Did he sense my feelings, or was he nervous as well? I nodded again; at this point, kissing him wasn't a big deal. A simple price for what he offered.
"Part your lips."
Once I did, his tongue—it felt more like a tentacle, or vine I guess with him—slipped into my mouth. I almost choked on the sudden syrup now filling my mouth. It quickly became too much. I swallowed awkwardly, not enjoying the coating it left in my throat. For a second my breathing strained as if the air was slowed by the syrup. Then I couldn't breathe at all as his tongue slithered down my esophagus.
I pushed away from him to no avail; he grabbed me before I could get off the bed. I hit him and tried pushing him more but his restrictive grip prevented me from getting the power needed to fight him off. He didn't budge or remove his tongue. Panic was setting in. What kind of healing method required suffocating the patient? Damn hamadryad. This is what happens when you blindly trust a fae this old.
Just as my lungs were starting to burn and ache from lack of air, a wave of cool, electric magic deluged me. And then I could breathe. I greedily inhaled as I cut a glare at the fae. After a minute of recuperating, I begrudgingly noted that I was indeed feeling perfectly fine, magic and all.
"Next time," I groused, "give a girl some fucking warning and don't suddenly suffocate her."
"You agreed before asking the details of my method."
"That's not the point!" I knew he was right, but that didn't mean he was in the right. "Just because fae-logic dictates you don't have to explain yourself freely doesn't mean you can't show some common courtesy. Especially when dealing with a non-fae."
He stood up and glowered down at me. His eyes were molten with ire but I didn't shirk away. "I can kill you right now."
"But you won't," I called his bluff—why was that always the go-to threat for old fae? He didn't answer, didn't move; acted like I was the one bluffing. But he undeniably needed me alive. "I found the spell, by the way."
That got a reaction from him. The flinch was subtle, only noticeable if you were watching for it. His shoulders were no longer pushed back in threat; his eyes were now cold and stormy. It was hard to read much else with his bark-like skin and centuries honed poker face. But I knew he realized his position now. "And you'll cast it as soon as you can?"
"No. I'm not casting it at all."
———
*A/N: So you know, the Hamadryad is a very slowburn arc. He's going to have at least 6 parts, and will be popping up in other stories a bit like Caera does.
Also "mielikki" are magical bears; they're the most common paramedics/healers/doctors in this world. They're named after a Finnish goddess.
