Warning: Mutilation. Not detailed.

A cart sits outside Ima's cottage. Tomorrow, she will leave Eidenswill. Since the first storm, she has been nothing but discontent. Villagers visit almost nightly, desperate and hopeful for a savior. They offer years of their life, their first born child, their very youth if only for the promise of a good harvest next year or food to last through the winter. A fair one Ima may be, but she cannot make the deal some ask for. Even if she could, she won't. Tricking humans is no longer of interest to her, and being the hero is a mortal desire.

Ima carries luggage to the cart, spotting Artemis walking through the dead fields. His cheeks are sunken, eyes dim, and limbs thin, a skeleton of the boy that once was. He hasn't visited as frequently, always out in search of food or attempting to retrieve his mother's affections. Ima leaves the front door open. She returns to packing, hearing Artemis enter moments later.

"You're leaving?" he asks, but it is not the same curiosity that once consumed him. Ima knows the tone of desperation like no one else.

"I am," she answers. Artemis helps pack when he realizes how Ima is organizing things. "I have grown tired of this place," she adds.

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know yet." Some may think she'll return to the Grim Woods, but fae are not the sentimental type. She hasn't seen the far north where the ocean itself freezes over, perhaps she'll pay it a visit.

"Will you return?"

"Perhaps." She sets aside her packing to peer down at Artemis. "What do you want? You aren't here to make small talk. I see it in your eyes."

"I've come with hope to make a deal."

"I admit that I am surprised. Did I not teach you better than that?" She bends over to meet his gaze. The shine of her eyes rivals the stars. "Fae only make deals that benefit them. Ask for beauty and they'll make it so none will ever gaze upon you. Ask for life and they'll take the life of the ones you love as payment. They never lose, but you always do."

"I know, but you have to understand why I'm asking," he says, his stomach growling as if on cue. He rests a frail hand over his stomach, thinking of reasons other than hunger for why he needs a solution. A way out of a future he fears.

"Please, I ask only for one thing. I will give whatever you ask of me in return," he pleads.

"Don't make a promise you do not intend to keep," she warns when standing up. Artemis flinches at the tone, averting his gaze.

"What is it that you seek?" She inquires, planning only to humor him.

"I wish to always find my way home," he answers confidently.

"How will that help?"

"Because I plan to hunt in the Grim Woods."

For the first time, Artemis leaves Ima speechless. Her wide eyes slowly close in a quiet sigh. The shock disappears in a blink.

"Then why not ask to enchant your bow to never miss? Or for a sword that always strikes the heart?" she asks, further convinced that she won't grant Artemis' wish. There are beasts in the Grim Woods that no mortal, let alone a child, can stand against. He asks to be sent to his grave. Although human's lives are short, Ima is no longer interested in cutting one even shorter. She would have granted the wish of others, if that were the case.

"How will they help me in a forest enchanted to make us lose our way?" He argues, writhing his hands. "And should I lose my sword or bow in battle, what good will they be? I must learn to never miss on my own, to fight. I will work hard to do so, but I cannot work hard to stand against the enchanted forest so I need an enchantment of my own."

Heaving a long breath, Artemis stands tall, the hopeful color of spring returning to his eyes when he repeats, "Ima, I ask to make a deal. Give me a way to traverse the enchanted Grim Woods by always finding my way home. Tell me your payment and I will give it."

Confidence is the fall of man. They think themselves heroes of their own tales, sharpening their blades to defeat what they perceive to be the evil of the world while often becoming the very evil they once battled against. Ima isn't sure if confidence or foolishness will be Artemis' fall. His request is so vague that she has already thought of a handful of ways to misconstrue it. For one, he never specified where home is. She could make the High King of Grim's throne room his home and he'd walk himself to the steps of death itself.

But the way he watches her speaks a thousand words. Should she not make the deal, he will wander into the Grim Woods out of desperation, like so many others. Ima does not care about the others. She doesn't really care about Artemis either, not in the same way humans care. They care in a way that it hurts when that care is not shared, or they put themselves in harm's way for another. Ima cares in the sense that she's curious; what path will Artemis take? What story will he write?

"If I agree, you must understand that other fair ones are not the same as me. Should you make a deal with them, it will not end so well," she warns, imagining the creatures Artemis will face should he go through with his plans. If he makes such a foolish request again, he will not survive.

"I know."

"And I am warning you now that the Grim Woods is no place for you. If this decision leads to your demise, it is your fault alone. Do not curse me on your deathbed."

"I know, and I won't."

"How lucky you are that I cannot tell if you lie," she says, bending over again. Artemis' heart stops when she rests her pointer finger beneath his left eye. She taps the tender skin once, twice, and a third time.

"Do you accept the payment?" she whispers, thumb resting at his tear duct and the other at the opposite end.

"I..." Artemis blinks, breathing heavy. He stares at Ima as if it's his last before nodding. "I accept."

Ima rips his eye from its socket.

Silence.

Then Artemis screams. There's blood, red stains on the floor boards and against pale cheeks. Fiery pain explodes, so intense that it leaves him woozy. When he sees his own eye pinched between Ima's fingers, bloody and peering back at him, he faints.

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Artemis wakes up laying on Ima's table. He reaches for his left eye, biting back a whimper when he feels a leather patch, although he's grateful it's not a gaping hole. Ima continues packing, keeping her back to Artemis as she explains, "Your wish is fulfilled. You need only open your left eye to find your way home."

"Open my left eye?" He whispers, sitting up. The world turns. He grips the edge of the table, unsure if it's from his sight being slightly off or the pain that continues to throb from his eye socket. "I-I thought I don't have it anymore."

"You don't."

"Then how?"

Ima faces Artemis, lifting the patch, she says, "Close the right and try."

Artemis obeys even if he's confused. He closes his right eye and thinks of opening the left. Pain hums as the lid lifts, then all is inverted. Ima stands before him as a clear silhouette with veins of twinkling gray light. Colors disappear, replaced only with shades of white, gray, and black, but then there's gold. A gold trail of smoke leads out Ima's front door to a flickering star on the horizon; his home.

"I-It works," he whispers, breaking into a smile. "It works!"

His head throbs and his eye closes. Ima covers it with the patch. "You are weak," she says. "You need to rest before using it, and you must learn to hunt before risking the Grim Woods, otherwise you'll lose far more than an eye."

"Thank you," he says, taking Ima's hands. They're cold in his, tensing at the strange affection. It has been a long time since anyone held her hand. She forgot what it felt like.

"Thank you so much, Ima. I promise I'll use it well," he adds.

"Promise yourself. You are putting your own life on the line. Now go before it gets dark," she orders, assisting Artemis off the table. He sways until he gets to the front door, clutching the frame to keep him steady.

Looking back at her, he smiles and says, "I hope you're happy wherever you choose to go. Goodbye, Ima."

"Goodbye, Artemis."

The next day, Ima heads north.

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