Fae chronicles Prologue

Visha swallowed thickly as she finished feeding her sick mother some broth. She wasn’t getting any better… Despite the medicines of that quack doctor, doing everything they were supposed to do… Mama wasn’t getting any better. 

It had started simply, with just a sore throat, chills, and fever. Nothing serious. But it didn’t get better. It advanced, becoming worse with every passing day. Visha had already lost her father in the big epidemic about six years ago, if she lost her mother… she’d have no one left but her Babushka. Her Babushka was in poor health as well, they would be beggars… or worse. 

“Don’t worry Mama.” Visha whispered to her insensate mother, who had passed out after drinking the broth, her strength exhausted by that simple act. “You’ll get better. I promise.”

Visha was very young when their family had to flee from the communists. But before then, she knew that her family line had more mages, their libraries stuffed with more magical lore, than any other house of nobility underneath the Tsar. While most of the books of lore they managed to take with them were sold off for funds… They still had a few. 

Among them was an old storybook that Babushka used to read to Visha from, and she had confirmed that the stories were accurate on how one contacted the fey. Also why it was a terrible idea to do so. But when faced with her inevitable death, or fates worse than such… perhaps it would be worth it? 

Visha had gone to the river at night when the moon was full, where there was a ring of mushrooms, picking flowers along the way, and wove them into a crown. She poured honey into a cup of hot water, stirring it while it laid within the crown of flowers. Finally, she turned away from the steaming cup, the kettle she had heated the water with in her lap to help ward off the cold. Finally, she said her invitation: “I invite you, the fairest of all peoples.” She said, formally. “I’ve prepared a drink for you, won’t you please enjoy it? It would not do for it to get cold.”

Then… she waited. After an excruciating minute of huddling around the kettle, her thick clothing protecting her from any burns, she heard the most musical voice she had ever heard. “Honey in water… a humble drink, for a humble host.” After a moment, the voice continued. “Turn around Miss, so that we may entreat face to face.”

Visha turned around delicately, prepared for anything, from the most beautiful woman to the most ugly hag. What she saw… was a little girl. She looked around Visha’s age, not having quite begun blossoming into womanhood. She wore not an elegant gossamer dress, as Visha would expect, but instead the kind of suit one would normally see on a nobleman, but as it was a style Visha recognized it was assuredly out of fashion. Well, it would be out of fashion if it was made from mundane wool or cotton, instead of an elegant green cloth, the veins of leaves drawing an intricate pattern that, despite the artistic flourish, made Visha think that it was made of actual leaves.

For a normal man, Visha would assume a relatively out of fashion suit meant that they were either poor nobility or a rich merchant who aped at nobility without the necessary pedigree. But for a young girl… It made her look like a child playing dress-up. Despite knowing that she shouldn’t, Visha relaxed, like she was just having a tea party with another girl. 

“Hello.” Visha said, “My name-” The fey held out their hand, urging her to stop. 

“Do not offer your name freely to one of my kind, child.” The fey said imperiously. “One’s name is valuable, after all.” Visha flushed at the scolding. She forgot that part! “First, I would be a poor guest to insist that you go without your own drink.” She waved her hand over the fine teacup, the only one remaining of what was once an incredibly valuable tea set. The cup moved both to the right and to the left, and once they no longer overlapped, the fey picked up the left one and gestured to the right. “This is a fine teacup.” she noted. “But it is worn, chipped, and alone. Your family line has fallen on hard times, hasn’t it?” She said conversationally. 

Visha nodded as she took the other teacup, noting that it was empty and refilled it from her kettle, placing another dollop of honey in it first. The book said to never accept food or drink from the fey, but… she didn’t even try. Curious. After taking a sip to gather her thoughts, she started to tell her story “The communists…” She began, tears welling in her eyes. “They ran us out of our homes, we were forced to flee here, to the Empire.” Oddly, Visha felt a shift in the fey’s mood when she mentioned the communists. The woman felt… dangerous sounded right, but at the same time, it wasn’t. But of course she was dangerous, she was one of the fair folk. “Only my mother is still able to support us, and she has fallen very ill.” Visha explained. 

“Ah, I see.” The fey replied. “You wish for me to use my magic to cure your mother, then? That is a common request made towards my kind, or so I’m told.” Or so she’s told? 

Oddity set aside, Visha nodded again. “I’m ready to pay any price.”

The fey seemed caught off guard by that. Did she just make a mistake? “...Very well.” the fey said, with a slight bell-like stutter that sounded like a musical accompaniment to the statement. “The only fair price for a life saved…” The fey trailed off, as if expecting Visha to know the answer. “-is a life spent.”

With those words, Visha felt her heart plummet. But, according to the stories, giving up her life was always on the table. She was prepared to do this. For Mama. “Agreed.” She whispered sadly. “Can I see my mother again before I pay it?” She asked. 

The fey shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” She seemed slightly confused at the question, but the fey probably didn’t have proper families, so it made sense that she wouldn’t understand Visha’s heart. “To seal our bargain, give me your name. Once done, I swear, on the throne of Oberon, that your mother will be made healthy.” Once she invoked the name of the King of the Fae, her eyes, previously the color of perfect sapphires, became a blank expanse of a clear summer sky. 

Swallowing her nerves, Visha took a deep breath and said her name for what was probably the last time. “My name is Viktoriya Ivanovna Serebryakov. Please, save my mother.”

“Our bargain is struck.” The fey replied. “You may call me Tanya.” She continued. “Sleep, and when you awaken, your mother will be in perfect health. At sundown, I will come for my price.” The fey smiled, and with it, Visha forgot that it was night, as the moon shone like the sun for a brief moment. “I look forward to what this partnership will bring.”

Before Visha could question Tanya’s odd choice in words, all of her nerves left her, leaving only exhaustion behind. She didn’t even feel it when she collapsed onto the ground. 

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When Visha awoke, it was like the previous night was all just a dream. “Oh.” She said sadly, slowly getting up to check on her mother. She likely needs the pot again at least… 

When she looked towards where her mother was lying, she instead saw the woman standing tall, industriously tending to the stove while humming a tune. “Visha!” Mother said, gesturing to the table. “Sit, sit. Have some oatmeal.”

Tears threatened to overtake Visha once more, as she went to her mother and hugged her tightly, drying her eyes on her mother’s skirt. Softly, gently, her mother stroked Visha’s hair and let her keep crying. “Sh, I know. I’m here, and I’m all better.”

Visha wanted to explain why she was crying so hard. That this happiness came at a price. One that she’d probably say was too high. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

The day passed quickly, like a dream. Visha helped her mother with her work; the laundry of their clients piled up over her sickness, and there was only so much Visha and her Babushka could do to stem the tide on their own. She remembered when Mother bemoaned their state, a former noblewoman reduced to tending to laundry for a living. That was a long time ago, though. Mama went through the clothing at twice the pace as she did before, filled with the vigor of health and the desperation of poverty. 

It was little things like that that prevented Visha from thinking that her pact with Tanya was just a dream. No one went from sickness that advanced to being healthier than ever in a single night. 

When the sun started to set, Babushka took her aside. “Viktoria.” She said solemnly, using her proper name like she tended to do when Visha was in trouble. “What did you do.”

Visha looked away, shamefaced at her decision. “I got help.” She said softly. “Without Mama…”

Babushka’s eyes softened. “Visha… you shouldn’t have had to make that decision.” She said, “But know that I love you, and your mother does too.”

Visha sniffled. “I know.” Slowly, she left the house, walking towards the fairy circle. 

Before she could get out of sight of the house, Tanya’s voice cut through the gloom. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with my part of the bargain?” Visha turned to see the fey, still so young, wearing a businessman’s suit woven from leaves, with skin as flawless as the finest pearls, eyes that sparkled like gems and hair that shined like spun gold. 

“Yes.” Visha said, “One thousand times, yes. You left me one day with my mother, and for that I thank you. Now…” She held out her arms. “Take me away.”

Tanya actually snorted in laughter, somehow making it sound ladylike. “Take you away? Where would I keep you? I live in a tree hollow.” She giggled, which confused Visha immensely. 

Wait. Oh. “Oh, then, you’re going to kill me? Devour my soul, or happiness?”

“How wasteful.” Tanya replied, scrunching her face up in disgust. “No, while some of my contemporaries would consider your metaphorical heart a tasty snack, I will need you with your full faculties if I’m going to get a return on this investment.” Investment? “No, your housing and upkeep will be paid for just as it has before: by the sweat of your brow and the love of your family.” What a strange way to say- wait.

“You mean… I can stay here?” Visha asked, shocked. 

“Of course.” Tanya said, grinning impishly. “If someone offers to maintain one of my assets at no cost to me, I would be a fool to refuse.” She snapped her fingers, causing old books to appear in her hands. “Now, to begin, I assume, as a former lady, that you know how to read? Specifically, read Frankish?” Visha nodded. “Excellent. I have access from another asset to one of the finest libraries in Parisee. You will begin your service to me by increasing your value.”

Increasing her- “What do you mean, increasing my value?” Visha asked. 

“Well, as of now, you have little to your name.” Tanya explained. “Few skills, few connections, few assets. You are a low value asset that was purchased cheaply.”

Visha winced at the unfortunately accurate assessment of her worth. There was a reason she was willing to trade her body or life, after all: she didn’t have anything else to trade. “...curing my mother’s illness was cheap?” She couldn’t resist asking. 

“It was just a flu.” Tanya said, waving her hand dismissively. “She was weak enough to die from it, half-starved and exhausted as she was, but a little bit of glamor to make her healthier let her fight it off on her own.”

“You tricked me!” Visha shouted, glaring at her new mistress. 

“I did no such thing.” Tanya replied, offended. “It was a fair economic exchange. Your preference was that you valued your mother’s health over your own life. My preference was that the servitude of a young girl with few skills was worth enough glamor to gift a mortal good health.” Tanya huffed. “We both got what we wanted. That is the meaning of a fair exchange of goods.”

Visha paused. That sounded reasonable, but the idea that human lives could ever be considered cheap… it grated. This was what it was like, to entreat with the fey. “I understand.” Visha said glumly. 

“Good.” Tanya replied, nodding as if that was the end of it. Visha supposed that it was. “Now, first we need to see how you are at math. You’ll need to at least understand basic algebra in order to properly understand double-entry accounting. That is the bare minimum understanding you’ll need in order to run my future businesses in the mortal world.”

Visha paled. Studying? Tanya wanted her to learn? 

Can she go back and ask for the heart-eating?