The fairy who accidentally spread bad luck

The Fairy Court Training Grounds smelled like fresh cut grass and ink from the trial scrolls. Fiona stood on a wooden platform with her cracked wand wrapped in ribbon like a bandage. Her wand still looked pretty. It was her hands that shook.

“Remember,” Master Linder had said, voice too calm for how hard he was staring at her. “Luck is not chaos. Luck is care.” Fiona had nodded like she understood care. Now she watched the old lady on the front bench wipe her glasses and look tired, not hopeful.

The old lady’s name was Aunt Milda. She had come for Fiona’s graduation trial, because in fairy court rules, someone had to be willing to receive a blessing. Aunt Milda’s smile was polite. It did not reach her eyes.