The Price of a Like Is Your Soul
A whisper of ozone, the scent of a storm that broke centuries ago, clung to the worn leather of my satchel.
Inside, nestled between jars humming with contained spirits, was the contract.
High-risk.
The client, a Fae prince exiled to the mortal realm, wanted to reclaim his throne.
The price he offered was a sliver of summer—three perfect, sun-drenched days stolen from the very concept of time.
“You understand the terms, Your Highness,” I said, my voice steady in the flickering candlelight of his cramped, mortal apartment.
My name is Morgan Vespera, and I am a Liminal Broker.
My job is to make deals between your world and the one that bleeds into its edges.
The Fae prince, looking less regal and more desperate in a faded band t-shirt, nodded, his eyes fixed on the parchment.
“I get my kingdom back. You get… a weekend.”
“It’s more than a weekend,” I corrected, my gaze unwavering as I pushed the ancient quill toward him.
“It’s a memory of warmth for a cold winter. And for you, failure means your name becomes nothing but a forgotten echo.”
I slid the ancient parchment across the coffee table.
“Sign, and your war begins.”
The hook was set.
Not with a threat, but with the promise of his deepest desire, hanging by the thinnest of threads.
§01
“Welcome to the Liminal Brokerage. For those seeking a pact, type 1 in the chat. We’ll talk.”
Seated before the camera, bathed in the cool glow of my monitor, I began my livestream.
My attire was simple: a dark silk blouse, my midnight-blue trench coat draped over the back of my chair.
Professional.
Distant.
The live chat scrolled by, a frantic river of text.
Ever since The Unveiling—the day the governments of the world finally admitted the supernatural was real—my line of work had moved from the shadows to the dubious glare of the internet.
【The government just confirmed ghosts are real, and this chick’s already selling them? Talk about a clout chaser.】
【LOL! Check out her ‘inventory’ in the bio! Covenant Wraiths, Lore Sprites, Rage Fiends… This is peak cringe, guys!】
【Don’t bother, people. The links to her ‘services’ don’t even have a price tag. It’s just some edgy streamer trying to cash in on the hype.】
The number of viewers climbed steadily.
The skepticism was a currency of its own.
For generations, the mortal realm had been a mess of unchecked chaos, its psychic effluence—its raw, untamed emotion—polluting the spirit world.
The balance was broken.
Anima Resonance, the spiritual energy spirits needed to recycle, was in deficit.
Souls were trapped.
So a deal was struck.
The Architect, my superior in the Axiom Faction of the Limen Guild, brokered a pact with the powers of the mortal plane.
Spirits would help mortals resolve their deepest desires, smoothing the psychic chaos.
In return, the spirits would earn the Resonance they needed to move on.
And I? I was the merchant at the crossroads, the agent facilitating these cosmic transactions.
The wave of doubt in the chat was a familiar tide.
I let it wash over me, then spoke, my voice cutting through the noise.
“I don’t trade for money.”
I leaned forward slightly, letting the camera catch the glint in my eyes.
“Every life has its own ledger. If you want to rewrite your fate with a spirit’s help, the price comes from that ledger. From what you are, and what you will be.”
My words hung in the digital air.
The mockery in the chat intensified.
Amidst the jeers, a single, bolded comment caught my eye.
**TillyP_05: [1] How does this work?**
I tapped the username, sending a connection request.
A moment later, a new window popped open.
A young woman, likely high school age, appeared on screen.
She wore a simple gray hoodie, the uniform of teenage anonymity.
Her face was pretty, but etched with a quiet, persistent anxiety.
§02
I softened my voice.
“Hello. Your name, and the spirit you’re seeking?”
She answered meekly, her eyes darting away from the camera, fixed on a spot on her desk.
“My name is Matilda Pham. I… I need a Lore Sprite. One that can make me smarter.”
After she spoke, her head dipped low, her hair falling to hide the bitter exhaustion in her eyes.
I reached a hand out, not toward my desk, but into the air beside me.
A flicker of emerald light, and a slim, obsidian tablet materialized in my grasp.
The Chronos Codex.
【Whoa! That special effect was sick!】
【Props to the tech crew throwing that tablet from off-screen. Seamless!】
The chat, ever the cynic.
The Codex was a terminal, a window into the knotted timelines of fate.
I channeled a trickle of Umbral Energy into it, and its surface swirled with light.
I searched for Matilda Pham.
Her fate-line appeared.
It wasn’t a dramatic tapestry of highs and lows.
It was a slow, steady climb.
Her beginnings were modest, but her path was one of continuous, hard-won improvement.
But then, as I watched, the line ahead of her flickered, blurring into a chaotic haze of possibilities.
It meant she was on the verge of a decision that would irrevocably alter the course of her life.
My expression hardened.
“I can’t recommend this for you.”
Matilda’s head snapped up.
Her face was a strange battleground of emotions.
A flicker of a triumphant smile fought against a mask of manufactured sadness.
“Why not?”
I ignored her question, my eyes fixed on the shifting lines in the Codex.
Instead, I said, “Sometimes, the straightest path is the one right in front of you. Just walk it.”
The words landed.
Matilda froze.
She whispered to herself, the words barely audible.
“The path… in front of me…”
I glanced down at the Codex.
The haze over her fate-line began to clear, the steady, upward climb solidifying once more.
Satisfied, I prepared to end the connection.
“What are you doing?!” a sharp voice barked from off-screen.
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