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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"Merle!!" The Witch bellowed, her shrill voice echoing down the stairs and floating around the house.
Merle lurched, her ears springing up at The Witch's call.
She'd been in The Witch's, Nemredith's, service for as long as she could remember, and not a day had passed without her name being yelled.
That was about to change, since Nemredith was leaving for a week.
After The Catharsis, when the humans conquered Dhilavir, the Witches, like other magical folks, dispersed.
While the humans basked in their victory, the magical folks sought methods to reunite and cohabitate with those who had survived.
This led to the formation of Pocket Realms, one of which Nemredith was heading to.
Merle arrived at the stairs just in time to watch Nemredith emerge from The Drian Room. It was so private that Nemredith never let anybody into it, not even her cat, Arlea.
Nemredith barred her from it, but she couldn't quit thinking about it ever since she caught a sight of it one crisp summer morning.
Merle couldn't imagine what was in the room because Nemredith was also a Collector.
Nemredith sauntered down, layers of raven lace billowing behind and around her. Her skin was pale and her nose was high up in the air as she peered down on Merle.
"I will be away for a while, let anyone know if they come and don't touch my things."
Nemredith didn't linger for Merle's response. She was a witch of few words.
Once the portal Nemredith made closed, Merle had a moment of silence before she squealed, her wings flapping in glee as she lifted into the air.
She couldn't recall being alone at The Black Hut for a long time.
Technically, she still wasn't alone. Arlea trotted around somewhere in the hut while Zarek was free to roam around too—with restrictions, of course.
It was no surprise that she proceeded to The Drian Room first; what was surprising was finding the chamber unlocked.
She hesitated in the doorway, eyes closed, taking a deep breath and adjusting her internal senses to her new surroundings.
She was scouring for her adversary, iron. She was fortunate to be able to detect it. That intuition had saved her several times.
The room had a myriad of items, shiny—which brought a grin to Merle's pale pink lips—and dull, all neatly organized.
"Everything is arranged. Perfect!" Merle said, her hands grazing a staff that stood unsupported by the door.
There were tables of vials of diverse colours, some actively changing. There was a wall of insects and their body parts, at this, Merle frowned. Sadly, that was one of Nemredith's passions.
A lone table stood in the centre of the room, with an item of ridiculous shape and sharp odd angles.
"Ooh, what's this?" She questioned and reached out to touch it.
She clutched it in her palms, electricity coursing through her fingertips. It extended up her arms, and into her chest, an unfamiliar sensation developing.
The item then twisted and contorted, spitting and convulsing until it merged with her flesh, leaving a black line running from the tip of her middle finger to the center of her palm.
She stumbled back in shock, bumping into a table behind her, forcing another item to tumble off the corner.
She spun in time and wanted to use her telekinesis to guide the object, an icy tree stem, back, but that didn't happen.
A whoosh of air flew out from the hand with the dark line, enwrapping the stem and setting it back on the table. Merle stared, wide-eyed.
She returned her gaze to her surroundings. She was familiar with Elementals, individuals that resembled humans but possessed dominion over the four elements of water, earth, fire, and air.
She'd read about them in several of Nemredith's books, but there was little information about them.
She also knew of their Cathir, an object they used to seal their power. She stared at the dark line on her palm.
That's what this should be.
Before she could test her theory, she heard rustling. Nemredith enchanted the leaves outside The Black Hut to rustle loudly within the hut to warn them of any incoming visitors.
She zoomed out of the room only to stop dead in her tracks. It took her a while to make sense of what was standing—if she could say that as it didn't touch the ground—in front of her.
A trick of light?
"I never imagined a Little One would be bold enough to take on the Quest of Time and Space." It said.
Quest of Time and Space.
She thought it was one of the myths about Elementals.
Elementals, according to one, sealed themselves and their abilities in A Cathir, that only someone who completed the quest could unlock.
She, however, had not. Had Nemredith gone through it instead, and if so, how was she, Merle, able to unlock it?
"It is unexpected, but it is unimportant. What matters is that you are now in my service."
"Service? I cannot be of service to you."
"Oh, you can. Did you imagine you'd receive my powers and I would only be tailing you as a mere ghost?" The Elemental sneered.
None of the books stated this. Of course not. That would deter anyone from looking for it.
But Merle had to make herself clear.
"I cannot be in your service because I am in service of another. I cannot serve two masters."
It was an absurd notion and no matter how ill Nemredith treated her, she couldn't fathom such betrayal.
"Oh, but you must. What else do you suggest, Little One, to get yourself out of this?"
The idea formed as soon as the Elemental asked. A smirk formed on her pale pink lips.
The doorbell rang. The humans were here. Perfect timing.
"How about a deal?" She proposed. The Elemental's eyes narrowed to slits.
"I'm listening, Little One."
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