Choose Your Enchantment

It all started with her blood. When blood spills into my pocket world that could unmake and remake several realities, it’s impossible to miss, particularly when the blood in question was spilling, quite literally and quite profusely, directly in front of me.

The owner of the remarkable blood looked at me with a face that I would use to beguile the hardened, the jaded, the cynical. In other words, me. One look into those beseeching eyes and I was already half convinced that there was hope in the world.

And then, somehow, beneath the blood, I smelled the cake. And strawberries. And her.

Sweet, sweeter, sweetest. And I had her father in a cage. Her vicious, bloodthirsty, unstable goblin father who had given her absolutely none of his genetics, at least visibly. Her skin had a pink cast, not green, her eyes were sparkling blue that matched her wings, and above all, she was soft, vulnerable, prey.

In another life, I would have taken her blood and her softness, devouring both. But taking those wouldn’t save my half soul. She had uncommon blood and magic, both of which could sustain my soul if he didn’t decide that she was good enough for him.

But the idea that she wasn’t good enough for anyone or anything was laughable. Goodness oozed out of her blood and her baking. My soul craved goodness and this sweet fairy-goblin could save my life and my soul with her abundance of it.