Deep in the dim, quiet forest, Lofna easily found the Fiend.

She looked just the same—fiery red hair like Lofna’s, a prettier face, a taller figure. Dressed in a gown darker than night, she stood among the bushes like a forest goddess.

Sadly, she was a Fiend.

She’d clearly been waiting a long time.

“Hello, little girl,” she said gently, smiling at Lofna. “I knew you’d come to make a wish. The plague is raging outside again, isn’t it? Your wish must be about that.”

Lofna, seeing this scheming creature, cut straight to the point. “Hey, if I wish to end this plague, what price must I pay?”

The Fiend shook her head. “Child, that’s impossible. This disaster spans the entire continent. Such calamities are gifts from the Heavenly Father. They shake humanity’s rigid society, driving history forward toward the future. I cannot defy Father God’s will. Nor do I have the power to change it.”

Lofna didn’t understand such talk. She grew restless. “Then… if I wish for my mother—and all of Ipoli’s residents—to recover from the plague? What would that cost?”

“That has some hope. But ‘recovery’ comes in many forms. Some regain health yet slowly worsen, dying before winter ends. Others fully heal, living peacefully to eighty or ninety. Which do you choose?”

“Of course, the kind where they heal completely and live to old age.”

“Hmm… Ipoli has many people. To cure them all, what can you offer? Child, what is your most precious treasure? Something truly yours.”

Lofna hesitated a long time.

Her true treasures were few: her AlchemicalDagger, some runes, savings, and Teacher Charles’s picture book, *The Magical Adventures of Witch Lofna*.

She didn’t want to give up any of them.

But what would Shel do?

He’d once traded a pile of picture books to an old mage for a high-tier spellbook, to nurture Hilna’s talent. He’d also traded more books for this AlchemicalDagger and runes, all for Lofna’s sake.

Facing this choice, he’d trade.

After all, family lives and futures mattered more than storybooks.

Besides, the Witch Lofna in that book was just fiction. The real Lofna couldn’t wave her hand and make miracles happen. To bring one, she had to pay a price.

As long as I remember the lessons and adventures in those stories, the book’s meaning stays alive. Teacher Charles will understand.

She made up her mind.

“I have a very precious fairy-tale picture book. Big—this wide,” she gestured with her hands. “My most treasured gift. Over a hundred pages, each with beautiful pop-up illustrations. Will that work?”

“A pop-up fairy-tale book?” The Fiend nodded thoughtfully. She closed her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, as if performing a ritual. “Let me sense your emotions… Hmm. This truly holds precious memories—love, comfort, and… someone’s jealousy. Interesting, very interesting…”

She opened her eyes, still smiling warmly. “Yes. Go home. Write ‘A Gift for the Fiend’ in wood ash on the book’s back cover. I’ll take it tonight. I’ll decide how many to heal based on its worth. But don’t worry—your mother will recover. Now go.”

“That’s all?” Lofna felt it was too simple. “I don’t need to bring it to you? No extra price? After agreeing, you won’t curse me? Will you devour my soul after I die? Or twist my wish in ways I’d regret?”

“Child, you’re sharp to think so much. Yet unwise to voice your fears after wishing.”

The Fiend looked at her approvingly, but with pity. “I’m not some shallow, pitiful creature. I don’t play cheap tricks or exploit loopholes to deceive mortals. I follow fate’s flow, letting others choose. I merely guide.

“I’ll heal your mother exactly as you hope. That’s no lie.

“Because of our nature. We—angels, Fiends, all beings—are born in the Netherrealm.

“Our will springs from human desires and delusions. Only when mortals offer something filled with true emotion can I twist reality. Only then do I feel joy in my existence.

“Your real worry should be arrogant fools. Like your human HolySee. Or those fanatical angels… They claim all disasters are the Heavenly Father’s will. That partings and deaths are fated.

“They believe humans only deal with us ‘Fiends’ when tempted, making unnatural wishes to alter reality. That it disrupts the perfect destiny Father God planned.

“But I think we’re necessary. You’ve already paid your price. That’s enough. The rest is for the Heavenly Father to decide. He’ll steer our fates.”

Lofna still didn’t fully grasp it. The Fiend hadn’t answered her questions directly, and her words felt eerie.

But pressing further was useless.

Anxiously, Lofna returned to Shel’s home. She dipped her finger in wood ash and wrote on the book’s back: “A Gift for the Fiend.”

At midnight, she stayed beside *The Magical Adventures of Witch Lofna*, rereading every story. She wanted to memorize it all—the pictures, the tales.

But as midnight struck, Lofna yawned. The book vanished like smoke.

In its place lay a wooden box. Inside were a dozen pills with a faint bitter smell.

A crooked note read: “Your *Magical Adventures of Witch Lofna* saves eighteen lives. No more. Remember: only eighteen.”

Holding the demon-bought cure, Lofna hesitated. She took one pill herself. After a while, feeling no poison or sickness, she decided: her mother was dying anyway. She might as well try.

Her mother still suffered—high fever, coughing, agony. She’d even lost consciousness, her breath faint.

Lofna struggled to feed her the crushed pills mixed with water.

A miracle happened.

Her mother’s rotting limbs healed. The fever broke instantly. Her breathing steadied. Before dawn, she opened her eyes.

“Lofna? Why are you back…” Her mother stared at her ecstatic daughter, confused. “How did my fever break? What’s in your hand?”

“Mom, well…” Lofna realized she still held the pillbox and cup.

“Medicine? Who gave it to you?”

“Uh… yeah…”

She couldn’t admit it came from a Fiend.

She lied hastily. “I found it at Teacher Charles’s house. He left it before leaving, saying it cures minor illnesses. I forgot it while playing. Just remembered and tried it… and it saved you!”

She showed the box. “See? This!”

Her mother was shocked. “Such an important thing—you remembered it so late! If shared earlier, fewer would have died…”

“Mom, there are only a few pills,” Lofna continued lying. “They might hold magic from Teacher Charles and Hilna. That’s why they work. They said it’s just for me—don’t tell anyone.”

“What will you do with the rest?”

“I don’t know… Better keep quiet. Teacher Charles said not to spread it.”

This lie would fool her mother. But if others thought Shel made the pills, he’d expose it when he returned.

Her mother refused to hoard them.

“Even if we can’t credit Mr. Charles, we must share them. Save whoever we can… Take these pills to the church door. Let the priest use them. When Mr. Charles returns, beg him to make more for others.”

“Ah… okay…”

Lofna wanted to keep all the pills. But her mother insisted—they belonged to Shel. They must help as many as possible, like he always did.

Helpless, Lofna sneaked the pillbox to Ipoli’s church. She crept to the priest’s windowsill, placed it there, knocked sharply, and fled.

She ignored the Fiend’s warning: “Only eighteen lives.”