Mugwort for the soul

“Once upon a time, there was a devious fox spirit, who tricked humans into making contracts with her, granting their desire and then eating their souls. She drifted from forest to forest for centuries, looking for time to kill and the next unfortunate soul to consume.”

Veila’s feet dangled from the tree branch, as she enjoyed the night view of this forest. Why this one? Because of the mugwort. It grew thick in the bush. The burning scent of it, sparked by her fire magic, brought her to an ecstatic dreamland she would not trade for anything else. Well, except for another fresh soul.

A snapping branch caught her attention. From the rustling bush, a human male stumbled toward her tree. Her nose twitched. The scent of alcohol coming from him was superior to cheap market ale. The man was adorned in expensive clothing, though his collar was deliberately undone. In his hand, he gripped an ornate glass bottle of liquor.

He slumped against the tree trunk and took a barbaric chug directly from the bottle. 

“Ah…the moon is beautiful tonight,” he mumbled, toasting the moon.

Humans and their irrational gestures, Veila thought. But the smell of that liquor was irresistible.

Before she could plan a terrifying entrance, the man tilted his head up and sniffed the air. He let out a sound of realization.

“I have a fancier blend down here, care to share?”

He pulled a crystal flask from his coat. Inside was mugwort—not the rough, wild kind Veila clumsily burned, but a carefully harvested extract. To seal the deal, he pulled a delicately engraved pipe from his breast pocket.

So much for a grand entrance. Veila simply hopped down, her fox tail and ears fluttering in the night wind, looking more like a curious fox sniffling out bait than the fearsome spirit. Still, she took the bait.

“I should introduce myself first.” The man packed a pinch of the blend into the pipe.

“I am Cael, youngest prince of this kingdom. What is your name, my lady?” Cael held the pipe out, fully expecting her to light it up.

“Veila, guardian fox spirit of this forest.” With a flick of her fingers, a small spark of fire emitted, releasing a heavenly fragrance.

Cael smiled and gestured to her to take the first pull.

Veila took a deep drag from the pipe, her eyes widening as the warmth flooded her mind. 

Chuckling, Cael gestured her to sit. They rested their backs against the trunk, ignoring personal space entirely. Why would it matter when your heads were in the cloud?

Veila reached out for the bottle. Cael gave her an encouraging nod, and she chugged it directly, barbaric just like him. This was heaven, she thought. Booze and botanicals were truly the pinnacle of human creation.

“So, tell me.” Veila purred, exhaling a plume of smoke that veiled the moonlight. “Why is a kingdom prince sitting in the dirt, getting high and drunk in my forest?”

“Long version or short version?” Cael took his turn with the pipe, his movement fluid. 

“Long version, as a courtesy for sharing your gifts, honey~” Veila took another heavy sip to prepare herself.

Little did she know, it would not be nearly enough for the incoming trauma dump.

Cael exhaled a long cloud of smoke and proceeded to monologue his entire life story at lightning speed. 

He rattled off his mother's passing, navigating the viper pit of the court alone, being shunned and bullied by his older brother, disrespected by the maid, and ignored by the King. Veila struggled to take it all in, trying to process the sheer volume of trauma he was delivering at double-speed in a deadpan voice, sounding like a man reciting the report.

A normal human would offer consolation. Veila just muttered, “That rough, buddy. Want me to kill them all for you? I will accept a flask of mugwort and a bottle of wine as payment.”

The prince burst out laughing, slapping his thigh like a madman.

“I would appreciate that,” Cael gasped, wiping tears from his eyes, “but I'm a subtle man. I would prefer a more…sophisticated method.”

Veila's ears twitched. She had never offered a freebie only to get rejected. Her tail swished, intrigued by this turn of events.

She waved her hand, and poof, a glowing, dark-purple magical contract materialized in the air, its fluorescent text legible in the dark.

“Fine. If you want to do it the boring, sophisticated way, go for it.” Veila purred. “I can give you the throne. But it will cost you your soul, not just the wine.”

Cael fell silent. He pulled a round-frame glasses from his pocket and scanned the text.

Pushing them up his nose, he looked completely sober, a stark contrast to his manic laughter. “Before we proceed, I have three clarifying questions. Actually, four. But the last one is a personal interest.”

“Go for it~” Veila hummed, her tail swaying in amusement.

“First, in the event of my death before securing the throne, does the debt pass to my next of kin, or is the contract rendered void? Second, define ‘the throne’. The physical chair or the absolute sovereign power? I know your kind loves a loophole. Third, will the soul extraction be at coronation or when I die?”

He paused, looking over the rim of his glasses.

“Last but not least…can I pet your ears and tail?”

Veila stared at him, baffled and offended at the last question, though she tried to maintain a professional front.

“Void upon death.” she echoed his deadpan speech. “Absolute sovereign power. And natural lifespan.” Her composure finally cracked, “What the hell is that last question? I'm a fox spirit, not a fox!”

“I will take that as a yes,” Cael smirked, pocketing his glass. “Consider it a signing bonus. An incentive for me to seal the deal, don't you think?”

Veila clicked her tongue, “I'm feeling generous tonight. But only after the contract is signed. Deal?”

“Deal.” Cael nodded, looking more smug than he should.

Sighing, she extended a sharp claw and gestured for his palm. She pierced his skin just enough to draw blood. Without hesitation, Cael drew a pocket knife and sliced her palm.

Veila began to chant an ancient spell, pressing their bleeding palms together. The blood mingled and trickled to the soil. Cael's palm was cold but it fit perfectly against hers.

As the final syllable left her lips, the magic flared. A dark, glowing contract mark seared itself into the center of both their chests, right over their hearts. The deal was struck.

Later that night, with Cael snoring loudly against the tree stump, Veila retreated to her branch.

She remembered the humiliating “bonus” she had endured earlier—lying across his lap while he petted her tail and scratched behind her ears. It was satisfying, she admitted. Plus the lullaby he sang was soothing. It only lasted a bit before the prince passed out, but the memory lingered.

When dawn came, she had a court to infiltrate, a royal contract to fulfill. But for now, looking at her already-healed palm and feeling the faint thrum of the sigil on her chest, Veila wondered what the ache in her chest was about.