In the lake of Moore lies an odd little tavern, one taken straight out of a fairytale. That’s why when Atlas, a bard in search for the next great story stumbles upon the place, he makes his way inside.

“Hello?” Atlas calls, pushing the creaking door open. The tavern is illuminated by the warm glow of wax candles, the aroma of pines wafting in the air. Tables of pixies and trolls chug down sizzling green liquids.

“Yohoooo” a chipper voice calls from a room down the corridor. A pixie about a head shorter than Atlas strides out carrying four jugs of rum in her hand. Her hair is the green of moss, and her skin the brown of dirt.

Fluttering her thin wings, she passes the cups to a table of hobgoblins who pay her no mind.

“Excuse me” Atlas says, stopping the pixie before she can go back to the next room.

She looks up at Atlas with large green eyes. “We don’t get many knights around these corners.”

Atlas smiles, looking down at his royal crest. “Ah, your mistaken. I’m no knight. Only the humble bard to the throne.”

The pixie scoffs, flicking the crest on his chest. “Humble by rampallian!”

He’s not off to a very good first impression, he thinks.

“My apologies, my lady. I have only come here in search of a tale I can bring back to my courts. You see, I was told by an old fella called Gadfold that this tavern was full of stories untold.”

The pixie grins, tugging the bard by the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t be so formal, come with me.”

The pixie hovers in the air as she guides Atlas to a corner of the tavern, where the breeze from outside blows out the candles.

“I will tell you a story about a girl with a heart of stone” the pixie tells Atlas, throwing him a cushion as she plops herself on the floor. They both lean against opposite sides of the rickety walls, legs presses against each other.

“That does not sound like something of my interest” Atlas says. He has heard many stories of girls with stone hearts who had it broken by a prince’s kiss.

“Hush and hark!” The pixie scolds, kicking him with the sole of her foot. She leans in closer to him, a playful grin at the curve of her lips.

“There once was a girl with a stone heart. Unfeeling and unyielding, she would never know how it felt to love. Hate. Lust.” The pixie wiggles her eyebrows at Atlas and he rolls his eyes.

“Go on. Carry on with your tale.”

“Yes, be patient! Anyways—the girl wanted to feel, for her cold heart left her feeling utterly empty. So, she sought out a witch by the name of Hyacinth.”

“That is an awful name” Atlas protests.

The pixie ignores him. “The witch had said, ‘bring me the heart of a mortal every night, and by the next full moon I shall restore yours!’ So every night, the girl creeped out to the streets and retrieved the fresh heart of a stranger.”

The pixie stopped to yawn, stretching her arms and wings. Atlas watched with great care.

“On the final day, the witch collected the heart and warned the girl that once she felt, she could never go back to the way she was before. But the girl didn’t listen. So the witch restored her heart of stone, breaking away the jagged and cold edges she was forged with.”

“Go on” Atlas says when the pixie pauses to think of what comes next. Is this he imagines, how the royal courtiers see him? Feel when he tells his tales?

“The girl felt the grief and pain for all those she had killed when her heart was stone. It was too much, she couldn’t take it. The girls heart gave out and she died like the others.”

Atlas stares at the pixie open mouthed, dazzled by the ending.

“So…where’s the happy ending?”

“There is none” the pixie responds.

“What—she simply died?” Atlas leans closer to the pixie and her cruel mouth.

“You see bard, you came in looking for a story. I gave you a warning your courts wouldn’t hurt to follow.”

“And what is that?”

The pixie smirked, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “Pay a little price and I’ll tell.”

Atlas has never met such a witty pixie. They were always pretty little things he didn’t think much of. But of this pixie, he did.

“I have silver, though I believe it wouldn’t be enough to pay for such a unique tale.”

“Oh don’t worry” the pixie says. “I’m more of a kiss and tell kind of girl.”

“Excuse me?”

The pixie leans in closer. “Care to pay the price?”

Atlas closes the distance between the two of them, softly pecking the pixies lips.

The drinkers around them laugh. One whistles.

“What a clever mouth you have” the pixie whispers, pressing a finger against his parted lips. “Now for my end of the bargain.”

The pixie leans in and whispers the moral into Atlas’s ears, careful none around them hear.

And when she finishes, they both share a reckless grin.

“Oh, they would love that.”