Morning rolled into midday with the lazy indifference of a world that had entirely too much going on to bother warning anyone about it. The sky was clear. The wind was gentle. Everything looked deceptively ordinary. Which, Aiden was starting to realize, was usually when the universe was at its most suspicious.
He ate as they walked, chewing on bread that had ambitions of being considered food but never quite achieved the title. Senior floated beside him as if gravity had only ever been a polite suggestion. The fae wasn't eating. He didn't need to. He simply watched the world with a leisurely patience that implied he'd seen it do all of this before and was waiting for it to become interesting.
"This is terrible," Aiden grumbled around a bite.
"You are consuming nutrients," Senior replied calmly. "You should be grateful."
"I am. I am also suffering."
Senior smiled faintly, which felt rude but accurate.
They had reached the stretch of countryside where green fields rolled out lazily and the air tasted like clean wind and distant woodsmoke. Somewhere ahead lay a village. Somewhere in that village, the day was about to go wrong for someone. Aiden didn't know how. He just knew the quiet never stayed kind for long.
Then Senior said, far too casually, "Someone wished nearby."
Aiden froze mid-chew. "Can you… feel that?"
"Of course."
"And when were you planning on mentioning this?"
"I just did."
He swallowed his annoyance along with the bread. "Thank you for your incredible timing."
"You are welcome," Senior replied pleasantly.
They reached the stone well before they reached the town. That happened first. A girl sat beside it. Young. Maybe twelve. Or grief had shrunk her age down. Her hands trembled on a small necklace she clutched like it might answer back. Her eyes were swollen, the kind of swollen that didn't come from one cry, but days of trying very hard not to collapse.
She whispered to the world.
"I didn't ask for much… please…"
Aiden stopped walking without realizing he had. Senior slowed beside him, gaze gentler than usual.
"That," the fae murmured softly, "is a wish when it hurts."
Aiden didn't ask for permission. He simply walked forward, slow enough not to startle her, quiet enough to be gentle. He didn't sit next to her, only near, leaving space. He didn't speak. He waited.
Eventually, she wiped her face, and words found their way out.
"My brother was taken by raiders." The sentence shook. "Everyone says he's gone. That I should move on. I don't… want a miracle. I don't want fate to bend for me. I just… want hope to stop running away from me."
Aiden didn't promise anything. He didn't say it would be okay. He didn't pretend he knew how this worked. He only felt something in his chest ache in recognition. Desperation wasn't always loud. Sometimes it was tired.
"…Can I try something?" he asked gently.
She nodded because saying yes was easier than giving up.
He closed his eyes.
Not commanding.
Not summoning.
Not demanding the world bend.
Just asking it to breathe differently.
Just nudging the line that had already been written.
Just asking…
"Please… don't let this be final if it doesn't need to be."
Something shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Not explosively.
Just quietly, like a river being asked to curve half a degree.
The girl took in a breath that didn't feel like drowning anymore.
She didn't glow.
The sky didn't split open.
Nothing mystical announced itself.
But the exhaustion in her shoulders loosened.
The air around her no longer felt like it wanted to bury her.
Her heart believed itself for the first time in days.
She stood shakily, wiped her face again.
"Thank you," she whispered.
She didn't know why she thanked him.
She just… did.
Then she ran home.
Aiden exhaled like he had been holding that moment together with his lungs. He looked at Senior, waiting for the lecture, the warning, the "that was dangerous," the inevitable weight of consequences.
"Well?" he asked.
Senior tilted his head thoughtfully. "That was… kind."
"That "was kind" sounds like "that was a mistake,"" Aiden replied.
"Not today," Senior said softly.
There was no chaos snapping back at them. No sudden unbearable irony. No cosmic slap on the wrist. The world didn't feel heavier.
It felt… quieter.
Relieved.
Aiden didn't understand.
"Why?" he whispered. "Why wasn't there a price?"
Senior watched the empty space where the girl had been and answered like an old truth that didn't require grand explanation.
"Because she was already paying."
Aiden blinked.
"The world does not always extract twice," Senior continued. "Her fear. Her grief. Her helplessness. Her stubborn refusal to let despair have all of her… That was cost. The universe is bureaucratic, yes. But it is not needlessly cruel. Sometimes… it simply acknowledges receipt."
Somewhere far beyond them, in that place where laws were made of ink and starlight, a quiet note was stamped in the invisible ledger of destiny. A small adjustment. A quiet approval. Nothing flashy. Just recognition.
Paid.
Aiden stood there for a moment longer, letting that sink in.
"So… it's fair?" he asked.
Senior laughed quietly. "It is never fair. It is… mindful. Occasionally."
Aiden smiled a little.
That was enough.
They walked again.
Behind them, somewhere far outside mortal sight, cosmic paperwork shuffled. Reality balanced something. Stamped it. Filed it. Recorded grief as payment and hope as temporarily permitted.
The universe was bureaucratic.
But today, it decided to be kind.