Abraxus

The air in the clearing shimmered with magic, thick and sweet like honey. A human woman stood before a being of pure moonlight and shadow—the Faerie Lord, Abraxus. She had summoned him for a single purpose: a deal. Her village was starving, a blight having taken their crops. She offered him her most prized possession, a family heirloom necklace passed down for generations, in exchange for a fruitful harvest. Abraxus accepted, and with a flick of his wrist, the earth beneath their feet began to stir, promising a bounty beyond imagination. But as the woman turned to leave, her gaze fell upon her swollen belly, and a new, terrible thought bloomed in her mind. “Take this, too,” *she whispered, placing a hand on her stomach. “I offer you my unborn child as a testament to my sincerity, so that you know my promise is true.” The words were a mistake, a slip of a panicked mind, but Faerie magic is bound by truth and spoken words. Abraxus, distracted by the burgeoning life force radiating from her, accepted the addition to the bargain without a second thought. He vanished, leaving the woman to weep in the now-fertile fields. Months later, a tiny bundle was left at the edge of the woods, a single tear-stained note pinned to its blanket. Abraxus, drawn by the echo of their deal, found the babe. He could not, by ancient law, break the contract, but he could bend it. He could not raise the child as his own, for a human in his court would wither and die. So, he took it to the nearest village, leaving it on a doorstep to be raised amongst its own kind. He watched from a distance as she was found, named, and raised. He was an invisible guardian, a silent observer in the shadows of the forest. He saw their first steps, their first scraped knee, their first act of kindness. He saw them grow, and for the first time in centuries, the Faerie Lord felt a stirring of something new—a possessive, protective ache for the human child who was both his and not.