The Spirits’ Gift

This story was written for the Power up Prompt #29 hosted by Bradley Ramsey.

If you want to read more of my writings, please read my published books: The Seekers: Soul-Ties, Kirin, and Perrin Peters. And if you don’t want to buy my books but still want to support me, I’m on Patreon. And if you prefer one-time payments, you can Buy Me A Pizza or a Coffee.

This story is set in the universe of my upcoming branching narrative, Queen’s Quest! Check it out once I finally publish it!

“I hope my future child will be worthy of my name,” King Volrik’s voice is muffled by the golden wine goblet at his lips. “I hope he or she will be worth all the trouble.”

The dark, living, wooden towers around me don’t care about these words playing in my head. They don’t care about the fact that the husband of my late mom didn’t even look my way while saying that.

“How could Lydia do that?” Volrik’s words ring in my ears as I venture deeper into the Misty Forest. “If she’d cheated with a royalty, maybe I could’ve forgiven her, but this...”

Even though I’m just at the forest’s doorstep, the mist is already beginning to cloud the way forward, the same way the tears cloud my vision daily during my entire life. There’s no smell to this mist, so all I sense is the scent of wet earth and wood. Rare birds and other forest inhabitants announce their presence, but their voices are subdued and hushed, and there’s no way of knowing if they’re shy of me or of the magic of this place.

The narrow path into a milky-white nothingness is not creepy like I feared during the sleepless nights, but inviting, for the nothingness doesn’t judge or hurt. The nothingness has only you, the way you truly are, and this acceptance (or the lack of care) feels truly inviting, making me breathe deeply and easily.

The path between the huge trees winds and winds. The walls around me come closer and closer, until all I can see is white nothingness. My legs still remind me that I’m in reality, for I continue to trip over the branches and fallen trunks. My stomach also tells me that I’m awake, for I couldn’t force myself to see the judgment in the eyes of the cooks in the kitchen. Yet, the hunger is nothing compared to the loathing in the palace. Nothing compares to it, even burying my own mom on my own and against the King’s wishes.

“Where are you, spirits?” I cry out, inching my way forward. “The forest isn’t named after you, or even after this impenetrable mist, but you are its rightful rulers. Head my call, o, spirits!”

And just like that, small balls of colorful light surround me, floating at my eye level in an ever-moving circle.

“You have called for us, Prince Shameful, and we have come,” a high-pitched voice reached my ears.

“You have done well by burying your mother, dear Prince,” a different, low-pitched voice pitched in. “The King wanted to feed her body to the dogs, who are already fat. Feeding the ground and its inhabitants instead was the right choice. Everything in this world is connected, and nothing should go to waste.”

They surely hear my grinding teeth and see my clenched fists, but it doesn’t matter. As long as they act properly, their words are just that: words.

“Please, spirits of the forest!” I bow and kneel on the soft soil. “The one and only person who ever loved me was my mom. But even though the people of Fairland always loathed me, they still deserve a better king. Let me live among you, or banish me from here, but please, replace the current ruler of my former home with someone proper. I beg you, spirits!”

The magical beings make all sorts of ringing noises all at once. Are they laughing at me? Am I at the palace again? My nails dig into the soil to prevent me from running away. As long as they help, they can do whatever they want… As long as they help, they can do whatever they want… As long as they help, they can do whatever they want!

“You assume much about the extent of our power, child,” the third, melodic voice answers. “We cannot replace the King for you. But you can do it.”

Confused, I stare at the balls of light.

“We’ll make you look, sound, and reek exactly as the King,” the fourth spirit starts. “You will be able to enter the palace and live there without fear of being recognized. But there is a price. Oh, yes, there is always a price.”

“Name it!” I jump to my feet. Living in the palace without being judged? Using the King’s authority to better the lives of others? What wouldn’t I give to live this dream!

The spirits once again emit those ringing sounds, but this display is short-lived.

“The change in your appearance will need sustenance, dear child,” a spirit explain. “The moment your soul is spent, you will become one of us here in this forest that bears the name of Misty the Wild One. If you find love while living as the King, your love will be lost to you. If you don’t finish what you’ve started, hope will be your only option. If a war were to start, you won’t be there to lead your troops. And if a famine or disease were to rage, your subjects will be all alone against it.”

As I hear all this, as I understand the words, confusion takes over me, for nothing touches my heart. Maybe my life up to this point is at fault. Maybe I am too young to understand the implications of what they’re saying. Maybe I’m just a heartless bastard who only wants to help people because I know it’s right and not because I truly want it. There is no answer, but it’s clear what I must say.

~*~

The high, creamy walls of the palace tower above my head as I approach. The bright light, beaming from the tall windows, never felt inviting. Indeed, I walk right into the dragon’s jaw, this time carrying a lot of fat of the new body.

“Halt! Who’s there?”

I freeze, sweating and listening to the wild gong of my new heart.

Night watchers approach, armed with bright lanterns and spears, and now it is their turn to sweat.

“Forgive us, your majesty!” They drop to their knees in unison and kiss the dirt next to my feet. “We didn’t know it was you!”

My arms start reaching towards them, and my lips start moving, but I stop myself in time. Even looking at the terrified guards is a struggle, no matter how much they used to despise me. What would Volric say? No, scratch that. What would he say if he had something like a heart?

“Stand up, you morons!” A revolting voice leaves my new lips. “What if there were assassins right behind my ass, and you’re eating dirt instead of being vigilant!”

Even more terrified, the guards jump to their feet, staring at me wide-eyed.

“That’s better,” I murmur, walking past them.

Everybody is in deep sleep throughout the palace, save for many a night watcher. This time, I simply ignore them, even though they pay me respect. The change of my behavior should, no, must, come later. For now, I must just make my way through revoltingly rich corridors all the way to Volrik’s quarters without showing any signs of apprehension. Without showing the true me.

Yeah, the true me. At least before the change, it was an option. There was no way to please these fuckers, and so there was no need to pretend. Now, I literally cannot be me anymore. Have I willingly cursed myself by accepting help from the spirits? Or will it all be worth it in the end?

~*~

As I walk into a barely familiar, dark quarters, I hear Volrik’s snoring. The door was open for but a moment, but was it enough for the guard to hear it? Unwilling to find out, I cross the carpeted room and approach the man sleeping behind the scarlet canopy.

His cruel words ring in my ears. His disgusted and disgusting face flashes before my eyes. Whatever I imagined I would feel upon seeing him again, my current thoughts are so much different. He was my mom’s husband. Maybe they even loved each other once for a brief second. But all of that is in the past, whereas I am living in the here and now.

The silver of a dagger flashes in my hand. No matter how much I wanted to escape the palace, I still ran away with a weapon. The dagger would be quite useless for hunting, but it is well-suited for what I must do right now.

~*~

“Do you have something cossosive, Sir Lavelance?” I ask the apothecary, who’s clearly barely awake this early in the morning. “The more destructive, the better.”

“Your… Majesty?” His bushy, silver eyebrows furrow. “Oh, of course!”

He jogs towards the many shelves and cupboards in his maze of quarters.

“Don’t rush, Sir Lavelance,” I smile, trying to sound friendly instead of freshly-awakened. “We’re all on the same side. I won’t flog you for taking a minute or two.”

The apothecary freezes for the whole five seconds, then slowly turns to me, looking confused. “Your… Majesty?”

No answer comes, and he resumes his search.

~*~

“Here you go.” Sir Lavelance finally comes back to me with a tray of potions. “Imported straight from Ursula the Breweress herself.”

I carefully take the tray, listening to the instructions.

“Why do we have them?” I ask as the apothecary finishes.

“Well, you know…” He frowns. “If we’re going to attack the Queendom, we may use something to melt down the defenses—”

I smile, putting my hand on top of his, and gazing straight into his terrified eyes. “Sir Lavelance. I want you to focus on helping our peasants, butchers, and doctors. If you find potions that would help to raise better crops, preserve food for a long time, or heal wounds, please work with them to make it happen. If something can be used to defend Fairland when trouble comes, that would also be an acceptable use of your time. But research nothing with purely offensive uses. You hear me?”

Flabbergasted, the apothecary just stares at me. “Your Majesty?”

~*~

Nobody entered my quarters, just like I’ve ordered. When the mix of Ursula’s potions finished dissolving Volrik’s flesh, I finally exhaled with ease, then went to the throne room. Giving a new direction to Sir Lavelance was only the first step. Much work is still ahead of me.

The huge center of the palace and the whole land is adorned in gold leaf and scarlet silk. The huge windows on both sides bathe the place with warm light. The cushy throne fits my new butt perfectly, because of course it’s fitted to its exact dimensions. While I’m waiting for the servants to fetch my ministers, I examine a new feeling deep inside of me. Something is feeding, sucking on my essence, and I doubt it’s age. The magic of the spirits must be in full effect now, and there’s no way of knowing how much time I have.

~*~

“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” the Minister for Sustenance gazes at me.

“Did I stutter?” I raise my eyebrow, mimicking Volrik’s usual facial expression and cadence. “Or do you suddenly require a hearing aid?”

White as chalk, she drops to her knees. “My humble apologies, Sire! It will be done at once!”

A small group of peasants next to her looks as astonished as everybody else here, especially because it’s the first time ever they have been allowed in.

“And remember…” I point my finger at them. “Somebody will always try to undermine my orders and raise taxes, be it a small lord or a future king or queen. Do not allow it! Take arms immediately and mount the wrongdoer on a spike. There are not enough guards to stop you all. Yet, you must spare the majority of the ministers. Just like it takes skill to raise good crops and cattle, it also takes skill to negotiate trade, build alliances, and supply the necessary war effort. Got it?”

The peasants nod and then start mumbling something barely coherent. It’s okay. Once they get used to being treated as people, they will transform.

~*~

“We need to talk, Your Majesty.”

The throne room is empty, save for a few guards and a certain tall dignitary clad in a large, black silk dress.

I shake my head. “You are no longer my advisor, Lady Shak. Instruct the Chief Guard never to let you in, and leave the palace forever.”

Her bright, green eyes are huge from confusion and anger. “But what about our plans? The war with the Queendom? Magical enhancements for our soldiers and peasants? The inheritance and water taxes?”

I sigh, feeling the magic eating me one tiny bit at a time.

“On the second look…” Leaves my lips as I crack my fingers to attract the guards’ attention. “Off with her head this insta—”

“What? NOOOO!!!” Her horrified shriek slashes my eardrums. “If you have such darkness inside of you,” I add as Lady Shak is gagged and dragged away, “you’ll infect somebody else with it. Not on my watch.”

~*~

My subjects no longer look at me weirdly. Well, their looks are still hard to endure after all my past experience, but now, more and more eyes look at me with admiration. What would happen when my time is up? Would they find the courage to become what they see in me and my actions, or would they feel agentless and prefer to give the reins to someone else?

My skin is becoming darker, and it’s getting harder to get out of bed, but every day I manage to do so serves as an incentive. If I managed to get up, then nothing would stop me for one more day.

“What’s for breakfast?” I ask upon entering the kitchen.

“Oh, it is really you, Your Majesty!” a new, ringing voice answers.

I turn my head and freeze, for I have never seen such thick and shiny, wavy black hair. The hair almost reaches the polished floor, for the woman in a simple, light dress has bent her body very low.

“At ease, my lady.” I start approaching her, reaching out. “You’ve bent your neck for long enough.”

She straightens out before I make the last steps, and so those last steps come prematurely, for her thin, black eyes pierce me almost to the death.

“Thank you, My King.” She curtsies. A bit sloppily, sure, but the very fact that she knew how to do that! “I didn’t believe it at first that you come here to have breakfast with us cooks, but here you are!”

“Oh!” She presses her palm to her lips. “I apologize, Your Majesty, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Ao.” She curtsies again. “I’m new here. It is such an honor to be accepted to the royal kitchen.”

I nod, barely able to breathe and completely unable to stop staring at her. Yet, can I still speak?

“I am a servant to my subjects, dear Ao.” I nod and try to smile. “While you and people just like you make sure Fairland functions, I am just resolving the disputes and giving you resources. So, it is I who is honored to have you as my cook. Provided that you’re actually good, ha-ha! Care to prove it?”

“Errrmm…” Ao’s black lips are agape as she takes half a step back while staring at me. “Y-you— I—” She furrows her thin eyebrows, briefly looking around. “Seriously? Oh, shit, of course you’re serious. Oh, shit!” She drops to the floor in front of me. “Forgive me, My King! I shouldn’t have used such foul language.”

I belly-laugh as hard as never before. Perhaps, it is actually the first time I laugh in my fucked-up life! Ao looks up, hearing no malice or mockery in my laughter, and something compels her to get back to her feet without my explicit order. The expression on her lovely, long face is no longer one of terror, but of intrigue.

“Foul language? That?” I still laugh while sitting down at the table. “Wash your hands, lady Ao, prove to me that you’re a good cook, and I’ll teach you some truly foul language as we eat.”

~*~

“I told you I won’t survive for long.” My voice is but a whisper, but Ao’s ear is right beside my lips. “I told you that I’m old, fat, and ugly. No regrets?”

“None.” Her voice is strong and supportive. “How can I regret the time I’ve got to spend with you? How can I regret the child you gave me? Better to know you and then lose than to remain oblivious that such a king and such a person can exist.”

I smile, feeling how the magic of the spirits is finishing its meal. I always expected my corpse to end up in a ditch somewhere, maybe poisoned by Volrik, maybe destroyed by the complete lack of love, maybe killed by my own hands. Yet, here I am, lying in a king’s bed, surrounded by people. Peasants, crafters, scholars, ministers, and all sorts of people came to the palace today feeling like they own the right to do this, and completely rightly so. They came to me and for me without being asked. They ask for nothing, and it looks like they’re willing to wait till the very end.

I feel Ao squeezing my long-blackened hand, and thank the spirits in my mind. Without them, none of this would be possible. The price they’ve asked for it turned out to be even more insignificant than I’d imagined. After all, why must I measure my life in years when measuring it by good deeds seems a much better option? They helped me, and now it’s my turn. Whatever life in the Misty Forest would be like, I am ready.

The End

Anton Anderson, 2026