Page 9 of Mischief Maker

I hope that my mother is still there, that the belief of small people like Faela has kept her bound to this plane.

The towering columns of the shrine come into sight, and I run the rest of the way to the top of the cliff.

The sun is starting to set, its rays spreading like a fan across the ocean.

I walk up the many dozen steps to my great mother’s temple and approach the statue of her that stands at the center.

It is not a very good likeness, but it will suffice to summon her.

I try to act casual as I approach. If there is one rule with gods, it is that they cannot and should not know your weaknesses. Even my mother has a vengeful side, with a meddling nature that can make her fearsome.

“Great goddess Lucia,” I begin, saying the words from memory. “Come to my aid, O mysterious mother of the Earth.”

I recite the rest of her long-winded summoning, and when I’m finished, I fall silent and wait. I can’t detect her presence here, but she is likely too weak to give off much of an aura. I wait some more and kick a rock, looking off toward the mountains where the farm is waiting for my return.

“You would deface my temple this way?” a deep woman’s voice asks me.

I turn around to face her slowly, tucking my hands behind my back.

There she is—my mother, the goddess who carved me from a stone so many eons ago.

She had wanted another toy for her entertainment, and I was an ideal way to challenge mortals with their own desires.

She molded me into the perfect tool to torment them.

Her long gown trails across the stone floor behind her as she approaches me, waves of blonde hair cascading down her back. Voluptuous and beautiful. And dangerous.

“Kireth. I did not expect you.” She takes a lock of my hair in her hand and curls it around her finger. “If you are here, then you have been summoned, which means you have ventured out on what, one of your tasks?”

I smirk at her, knowing I must keep my true intentions here veiled.

“Indeed.” I roll my eyes a little just for flavor.

She tilts her head. “No happy reunion, then? No asking how your mother has been all this time?”

“You were here, I assumed,” I say, and she shoots me a dark look. I ought not to push her too far if I want her help, though.

“Idling while the humans forget,” she says. “But they haven’t forgotten you, have they?” I detect some jealousy in her voice. “What is your question, then, foolish Kireth?”

I crack my knuckles. I hope she can solve this mystery for me.

“There is a farm two days’ travel from here,” I begin. “It has been beset upon by a curse of some kind. Crops will not grow. Animals are sickly. Everything dies.”

She nods, as if this is all very routine. “It sounds like a curse to me,” she says. “So, where is the question?”

I huff. I was getting to it. “How do I stop it?”

Her surprise is apparent. “Stop it? Why would you care about that, my wild son?”

“My task is to find a way to save this farm from obliteration.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Such a generous request,” she says, and she sounds suspicious. “And your first thought was to come and summon me?”

I sigh impatiently. “The mortal has been very specific,” I say, and for the most part, that’s been true. “I have waylaid her quest many times before she thought to ask me to come to you.” I hope Lucia doesn’t detect my lie.

“Ah. You’ve been outsmarted.” This makes her smile. “Your master must be a clever one indeed.”

I just shrug disaffectedly. “So, do you know what would cause soil to rot? What would strike a human down with a black mold?”

These words catch her attention. “It killed a human? That is a powerful curse.” She closes her eyes and holds up her hands to indicate I should stay silent. A little hum rumbles in her throat, and her hands flutter back to her sides. The air ripples between us.

Suddenly her eyes open. “Oh.” They land on me, and a wide, wicked smile crosses her face.

I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

“You angered someone,” she says. “Yes, I found your farm. And yes, it is cursed.”

“By whom?” I ask, too eagerly. Her smile spreads. I fear that I’ve been found out for something, but I’m not sure what.

“Someone who had a bone to pick with you, once upon a time.” She laughs in a way that’s certainly not kind. “You are truly an awful thing.”

“You should know,” I growl. “You made me.”

But who has done it? Who could I have harmed in the past that they would find this place, this woman, and inflict death upon them?

“I see. So you do not remember.” Lucia is much taller than I and has to lean down to push the hair back behind my horns.

If Faela were here, my mother would be twice her size.

“How many have you wronged over the course of your long life that a single grudge would not stand out to you?” Her laugh is not kind.

“There was once an oracle, was there not?”

At first the word means nothing to me. I try to think back to a time of oracles, when I might have met one.

And then I remember with a burst of clarity. Oh, that is not a story I want to revisit.

I can see why the oracle would have had a grudge against me. But I completed my one hundred tasks not long after my run-in with her, and so I returned to my entombment in the temple—which I thought had freed me from the repercussions.

“But why did she choose this farm?” I need to know what this all has to do with Faela’s home. Why would the oracle have targeted this one unfortunate girl, so far in the future, with a curse? The oracle herself is long gone, and yet her magic remains.

“Because she was an oracle , you fool,” Lucia says, whacking me across the head. I reel back, clutching my ear, and hiss at her. “She knew when your chosen one would arrive. When her curse would hurt you the most.”

My... chosen one?

There’s a tinkle of laughter as I ponder this. Who could she mean? There is no chosen one for me, no creature picked by fate to be mine.

My mother looks simply radiant at my discomfort. “The one you were fated to meet,” she says, leaning down close to whisper in my ear. “The oracle knew the girl you would fall for, and so she struck you closest to your heart.”

It hits me like a blunt weapon to the head.

My sad girl. Oh, I do understand now. All the smiles I hoard like a dragon, all the times my chest ached with her losses—the oracle knew that Faela would be the one to capture me, which also makes her the most capable of hurting me, and so that is who she targeted with her wrath.

“What can I do?” I ask, and my facade is forgotten because Lucia already knows the truth, probably deeper than I do. “How do I stop it?”

The goddess pouts. “So demanding.” She gestures with one hand, and an invisible wind pushes me backward, sliding me into a chair that has emerged from the stone. “Stopping a curse isn’t easy.”

She produces a piece of paper and writes. Her hand is unnaturally quick, and she finishes with a swish of her quill before handing me the paper.

“Follow these instructions to create a potion. Pour a droplet on the ground every day for many days, and it will force the curse to retreat. You must have a way to capture it, or it may simply run off and return later. Use a container that closes with a lock, and do not let it out.”

Lucia is offering me so much information that I’m surprised. I got my capricious nature from her. Surely she has no reason to help me.

“Why do you assist me with this?” I ask, tucking the paper away. There must be a catch of some kind.

My mother gasps with offense. “I’m not allowed to help my own son? Without him being suspicious of my motives?”

“You always have a motive,” I say.

“My motive is to see you happy, Kireth.” She leans down and squeezes the skin of my cheek, much harder than necessary. “But remember, you only have forty-one tasks left. And then your time there is up, chosen one or not.”

Right. I know.

“Thank you for the lesson,” I grunt. “I must be going now if I’m to gather all of this.”

Lucia just rubs her chin thoughtfully. “A purely transactional visit from a child? Who could have imagined.”

“It was good to see you, Mother,” I say, and I’m the tiniest bit honest, because despite the pain that comes with the truth, now I know how to help Faela.

“You too, Kireth.” She arches a brow at me. “Remember: forty-one.”