A boy crept softly through the forest, looking for a white stag that legend said could grant three wishes. From his back grew gossamer moth wings that dragged on the ground and tore at a touch, and words had been cut into his skin that wept indigo blood. A wish would cure him of these peculiar miseries. But he grew tired as he searched, and his feet bled and his tears left tracks of salt down his weary cheeks. He did not find the stag. He did find a fairy prince, though, with a sharp smile and roses blooming from his wrists. “You should come with me,” the boy said. “A wish from the white
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