New Short Story
Spell of Flight
Leaving Vic’s sight for only a moment, the woman returned with a leather pouch cinched tight. Its sides bulged in the shape of an apple, though it appeared to have little weight. When the woman worked at the ties with her blade-sharp nails, a translucent vapor touched with golden light escaped the neck.
It was more fairy dust than Vic had ever seen in one place and time, or even knew was possible to accumulate.
“The sorceress transmuted this for you before her death,” Vic theorized. “She set the fairy traps for you too.”
Once more, the woman shook Vic’s cage. Violently.
“It’s… it’s more than enough,” Vic allowed.
“Scheming midge. This won’t be yours!” The woman grasped the pouch tightly, squeezing a small cloud of fairy dust into the air between them.
For more, visit our story page for Spell of Flight.
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