A hooded figure slowly walked down the streets of Rothenburg. The city floundered it’s resilience as it built itself back up from the scars it received during WWIII, and today was the warmest it has been in July. At fourteen degrees, the young boy had no sweat as he leisurely walked towards the exit of the town while using his teeth to wrestle with a slice of hardened rye bread. His other hand had a small bottle of honeyed milk which he did not drink, courtesy of a kind woman who saw him eating the bread without anything else.

As he passed the areas closer to the exit, the buildings became more torn and ravaged, it was obvious that these places haven’t been repaired yet. As he walked by a house he started to hear the cries of a baby. Looking through a shattered wall, he saw two children in ragged one pieces huddled next to their mother as she held a baby, shushing the little doll in her arms while desperately trying to suckle it despite being too emaciated to feed it.

Looking down at his hands, Jason leaned forward and left the half-eaten bread and bottle of milk in the mother’s arms before walking away, ignoring their thanks. Reaching the exit, he paused and checked his holo-watch, surprising those nearby since devices like those were expensive. Confirming the location in his map he continued walking for another four hours leisurely taking his time.

Eventually, right after dusk, he reached a small wooden cabin. It was a beautiful cozy place with a large, unchecked garden at the side. Jason slid a gun down from his sleeve to his hand and checked it before releasing the safety lock. Then, placing the gun in the back of his pants, he went forward and knocked on the door. He waited for a moment but felt no movement from behind the door, and realized that no one was home.

A low humming played out from within the garden, attracting his attention. Following the tune, Jason slowly walked through the wild maze-like entrance of the garden until he reached a small clearing where a woman was standing, surrounded by glowing flowers, butterflies, and fireflies. The woman had a black hood and vivid blood-like red hair, both of which obscured most her face leaving only her luscious red lips visible. The young woman was entirely focused on her humming before singing out in an otherworldly voice.

“O, chì, chì mi na mòrbheanna;

O, chì, chì mi na còrrbheanna;

O, chì, chì mi na coireachan,

Chì mi na sgoran fo cheò.

Chì mi gun dàil an t-àite 'san d' rugadh mi;

Cuirear orm fàilte 'sa chànan a thuigeas mi;

Gheibh mi ann aoidh agus gràdh nuair ruigeam,

Nach reicinn air thunnachan òir.

Beanntaichean àrda is àillidh leacainnean;

Sluagh ann an còmhnaidh is còire chleachdainnean;

'S aotrom mo cheum a' leum 'gam faicinn;

Is fanaidh mi tacan le deòin.” [1]

Jason listened to her singing and his body was frozen as he looked over her figure. In his eyes, a picture from a children’s book appeared: A wooden boy wishing to a fairy to become a real boy. The woman let the butterfly that was sitting on her finger to fly away and she sat down on a bench overgrown with ivy. She then noticed a boy of about twelve years of age watching her with rapt interest.

“Oh? What’s this? Did you fall for my song, laddie?” the woman teased while watching the boy with amusement.

“No, I’m still standing, how could I fall?” he asked curiously with a tilted head that made the woman speechless.

Magairlean, he’s so cute tilting his head like that, The woman thought. [2]

“Are you lost then, laddie?” she asked the boy.

“No. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” the boy said while playing with his phone.

“Oh? Then ye are here for me right?” the woman said with narrowed eyes.

“Yes. I was here to kill you,” Jason replied nonchalantly.

“Aren’t you a cute one. Most would shoot instead of talking to their targets. Wait, ‘was’? Past tense?” the woman did a double-take, watching the boy closely.

“I don’t want to kill you anymore. I just canceled the contract with my employer,” the boy explained.

You sure ye aren’t falling for me, laddie? The woman thought in her head.

“Yer an assassin. If you cancel it then won’t yer employer send others to kill you?” the woman asked concernedly.

“No they won’t,” he replied stoically.

“Mighty arrogant aren’t ye, laddie?” the woman muttered

“They won’t accept because those mercs are scared of dying like their predecessor.” the boy explained, clearly having heard her whisper.

Hold on, a hired gun killing other assassins and the likes? And multiple times? Could it be that he’s …?

“Well? I’m waiting,” the boy said as he leaned close to her face, so close their lips almost touched.

“Waiting?” asked the woman while pulling back.

“Yes, I’m waiting for my wish,” answered the boy, his black eyes gleaming as fireflies glowed by him.

“A wish? From me?” the bewildered woman asked him.

“Yes, from you,” the boy confirmed, his onyx eyes boring into hers causing her breathing to still. His eyes seemed to have a magically mesmerizing quality to it, drawing her attention to them.

“Why me?” the woman blurted as she looked at the boy. There was no way she could keep up with this naive boy.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re a fairy, you must be. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman and you have a fairy’s voice. You must be a fairy.” the teenaged boy concluded without batting an eyelid, making her realize that he was dead serious.

The woman looked at him dazedly for a time before she burst out laughing. Her bell-like laughter resonated with nature itself as crickets quieted down and fireflies flew around her head, forming a halo.

“Ah, born with a silver tongue, eh, laddie?” the woman wiped the tears from her eyes as she looked at him gently. “Alright, tell me yer wish, mo sheòid.” [3]

“A real boy,” the boy said quickly, no hesitation in his words. “I wish to be a real boy, with a father, a family and not be a tool. I don’t want to be a weapon.”

The woman looked closely at the boy, studying him. His eyes held no emotion even as he asked this, and no excitement or any other emotion so to speak of were visible on his face. She looked at his posture, figure, and hands and realized that he blended into the surroundings very well. His figure was slightly bent, indicating that he was ready to dodge any attacks while his hands were covered in calluses that would normally be present on veteran fighters.

To be like this at this age, She thought with a sigh. No wonder he wishes to be real, even he realizes how far from normal he is.

“Maybe if we met when you were younger, I could’ve given you your wish,” the woman said, shaking her head as she stroked his cheek.

“I see,” the boy said apathetically as he lifted his head to look at the full moon. “My wish can’t be fulfilled even by a fairy. I guess it is my fate to be a weapon in other’s hands.”

“Now hang on a minute,” the woman said while pulling both of his cheeks. “I can’t make you into a real boy. But, I can turn you into a real man, on one condition though. You live with me for a while, yeah?”

“A man?” the boy muttered before turning resolute. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll live with and do anything you ask so long as I become a real man.”

“Oh, you’re so cute!” the woman squealed as she continued playing with his cheeks. “Oh, my name is Elizabeth Hyde, but that’s to the world and everyone else in it. My real name is Freya, Freya Reid.”

“Mi nom iz Jasung - ” the boy tried saying through his pulled cheeks when Freya hushed him with a finger to his mouth.

“Oh, I know you already. The wolf that devours: Fenrir. Cute little Fenrir.” Freya said while she stroked his hair and held him tightly to her chest, causing a strange feeling to emerge in his heart.

The song (Chì mi na mòrbheanna) was written in Scottish Gaelic by John Cameron (Iain Camshroin). A song that is often used as a lullaby and was played during John F. Kennedy’s funeral. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZlQW4O4NpI) )

English translation:

O, I see, I see the big mountains;

O, I see, I see the big mountains;

O, I see, I do see the corries,

I see the mist-covered peaks.

I see without delay the land of my birth;

I am welcomed in the language I cherish.

I will receive there hospitality, and love when I reach it

That I'd trade not for tons of gold.

Lofty mountains and resplendent ledges,

There dwell my own folk, kind folk of honor.

Light is my step as I leap up to meet them;

'Tis with pleasure I'll stay there a while.

Bollocks in Scottish Gaelic A term of endearment used for children means ‘little hero’ or “valiant warrior”

Oh, and if anyone's thinking about the glowing flowers and butterflies? Imma gonna push it to the Aether evolving not only humans but animals and plants too