The Moonlit Bargain
In the heart of Eldergrove, where the trees parted to reveal a clearing kissed by starlight, the fairy market bloomed under the glow of a swollen moon. Tiny stalls of weathered wood and vibrant cloth sprouted like mushrooms, their surfaces cluttered with magical trinkets: vials of shimmering potions, rings that hummed with faint light, and orbs that floated above their stands. Fairies darted through the air, their iridescent wings catching the moon’s silver sheen, their laughter a melody woven into the night. The ground was a carpet of wildflowers and toadstools, each petal and cap glowing faintly in the enchanted dusk.
Liora, a human girl with tangled brown hair and a cloak too big for her frame, stood at the market’s edge, clutching a single copper coin. She wasn’t supposed to be here—humans rarely ventured into Eldergrove, and the fairies guarded their secrets fiercely. But desperation had driven her. Her brother, Taryn, lay ill, his fever unbroken by any healer’s art. The village whispered of the fairy market, of trinkets that could mend what mortal hands could not.
A fairy with wings like stained glass landed on a stall before her, her voice sharp as a bell. “What’s a groundling doing here? Got gold, or just gawking?” Her tiny hands rested on a vial of golden liquid that pulsed with warmth.
Liora held up her coin, her voice trembling but firm. “I need something to heal my brother. This is all I have.”
The fairy—whose name, she later learned, was Pippin—tilted her head, her emerald eyes narrowing. “Copper’s no good for this,” she said, tapping the vial. “This is sun-tear elixir. Cures anything short of death. Takes a year to brew. You’d need a dragon’s scale or a star’s breath to trade for it.”
Liora’s heart sank, but she didn’t turn away. “I don’t have those. But I’ll give you anything else—my cloak, my time, my voice—”
Pippin fluttered closer, hovering at eye level. “Your voice, huh? That’s a steep price for a human. Fairies love a song.” She smirked, but her gaze softened. “Why’s this brother worth it?”
“He’s all I have left,” Liora said, her words raw. “He sings to me when the nights are cold. I can’t lose that.”
The market hummed around them, stalls clinking with trinkets, fairies bartering in high-pitched glee. Pippin flitted back to her stall, then returned with the vial. “Alright, groundling. A deal: one song now, and you come back every moon to sing for me until the debt’s paid. No tricks, or I’ll curse your shadow to dance forever.”
Liora nodded, relief flooding her. She sang—a simple lullaby Taryn had taught her, her voice rough but true. The fairies stilled, their wings slowing as the notes drifted through the clearing. The moon seemed to brighten, bathing the market in a silver glow. When she finished, Pippin pressed the vial into her hand, her smirk gone.
“Take it. Heals fast. And don’t be late next moon,” she said, then darted off into the crowd.
Liora raced home, the elixir glowing in her grasp. By dawn, Taryn’s fever broke, his eyes clear and his voice humming her song. She smiled, knowing she’d return to the fairy market—not just for a debt, but for the magic she’d found under the glowing moon.