Hex swept along the gloomy passageway of his vast home. His polished black boots squeaked against the grey flagstones; his black cloak billowed behind him, and fury fuelled the heat rising from the pit of his stomach. If he didn't calm down and regain his composure, he would surely murder that pixie.

"Pickles!" Hex yelled. "Where are you?"

Hex threw open the door to his alchemy room. The sight before him only increased his rage. The thousands of spells, potions, and lotions were in disarray. When he ran his long, thin finger along the wooden shelves, he drew a line through the thick dust.

"That pesky Pixie," he grumbled. The bad-tempered sorcerer hated slovenly behaviour above anything else. And Pickles was the laziest, idlest, most irresponsible creature Hex had ever met.

Leaving his favourite room, he headed toward his least favourite... the kitchen. If Hex thought his alchemy room a disgrace, the kitchen was a disaster of mammoth proportions. Dirty pots and pans, cups and glasses, knives and forks covered every surface. Piles of rubbish and rotting food buried his once fine floor.

"Pickles! Are you in here?"

It wasn't a surprise to find no sign of Pickles. Silver sparks flickered between the sorcerer's fingertips as he contemplated vaporising the pixie. With a growl, he yanked open the kitchen door and stepped outside into the sunshine. With a squint, Hex scanned his sprawling garden. The garden appeared empty. Not a bird, bunny, squirrel, or badger would dare venture onto his property uninvited. Hex allowed himself a smug grin-until the bush to his right rustled. Instantly, his good humour vanished.

"There you are!" he hissed. With a speed that defied reason, Hex sprinted to where Pickles hid. As quick as a flash, he grabbed the pixie's large, pointed ear and dragged him from the overgrown shrubs. "What is the meaning of this?"

Pickles squirmed to free himself from the sorcerer's pincer-like grip.

"I'm taking a break," Pickles whined. Finally, he wriggled loose and, rubbing his throbbing ear, he continued, "This house is too much for one pixie to keep clean. I wake before dawn and go to bed after midnight. I'm exhausted. This is not a life; I wish to leave."

Hex barely believed what he heard. How dare Pickles speak to him in such a manner? No servant had ever left Rune House. Well, not by choice.

"You'll stop your whining and get back to work."

"No. I won't." Pickles folded his arms and pouted.

Hex glared at his servant. This ungrateful wretch Hex found on his doorstep aged five or six... The sorcerer knew little about children. He'd estimated Pickles' age by the number of teeth and limited vocabulary. Contrary to his nature, Hex had provided food, clothes, and shelter for ten years, and he asked little in return. A good day's work, and a fair amount of grovelling.

"You will do as you are told or else."

"Else," Pickles said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his grubby tweed britches.

"What? Have you lost your senses?"

"I choose else. I won't dust another candlestick or scrub another floor."

Hex wasn't sure what had possessed the pixie to behave so foolishly, but it was time to teach him a valuable lesson.

"So be it." Hex threw back his cloak and pushed up the sleeves of his black shirt. Raising his arms to the sky, he whispered words to summon the darkness. Storm clouds blocked the sun and tiny bolts of lightning flashed above their heads. To Hex's surprise, Pickles bravely stood his ground before a sudden flash of yellow-white light engulfed him.

At first, Pickles twitched, then he itched and as he shrunk, he sprouted six legs, two antennae and a pair of wings.

Hex crouched and with a wicked grin he hissed, "As you refuse to work and earn your keep, and seem to enjoy living in filth... how do you like being a carpet beetle?"

Pickles' small black eyes glistened with tears, but Hex had not an ounce of sympathy for his disobedient servant. Not wishing to squash Pickles, the sorcerer carefully grasped him between his thumb and finger and returned to his alchemy room.

Inside the dusty room, Hex searched for a box small enough to keep Pickles safe. After all, it would be quite easy to step on such a small beetle. On the mantlepiece was an empty matchbox, perfect!

"My spell will wear off in a few hours," he whispered, so he wouldn't deafen Pickles. "Stay here until it does."

Pickles wiggled his antenna in response, and Hex took that as a yes. He placed the box on the floor in the corner, next to a ball of hair and fluff. With a sigh, he added, "Clean that up once you're restored." In a sweep of his cloak, he turned on his heels and stalked from the room.

*

Meanwhile...

In the middle of a fairy forest, far away from Rune House, lived a goblin. Now, this greedy goblin owned a fortress with four tall turrets-one in each corner. Above its broken terracotta roof, a tattered red flag flapped at full mast to show its occupants were home.

Below the turrets and tattered flag paced a large, scaly, green dragon. The dragon, not being the smartest, worked for the goblin, who was, at that moment, filled with despair. His treasury was well and truly empty, and so was his belly.

Giggleton's tummy gurgled and cramped painfully. It had been two days since his last meal and with no money, jewels or furniture left to sell, he was at his wit's end. The only item he hadn't sold was his precious crystal ball, and even the threat of starvation wouldn't make him part with that.

He had one choice, something he'd hoped to avoid. Giggleton left his treasury and scurried through two dingy passages and down two flights of stone steps. He hurried along the draughty entrance hall before stepping from the rotting wooden front door.

"Rufus, we have no choice," Giggleton gasped, struggling to catch his breath after all those stairs.

"Huh." Rufus, who had been basking in the warmth of a glorious day, opened one bloodshot eye.

"Wake up! This is no time to nap." Giggleton prodded the dragon's side with a bony finger. "We have to go."

Rufus yawned, his sharp teeth glinting in the sun. "Go where?"

"To see Prince Horace."

Rufus flinched at the mention of the Prince of Imps. "Why go there?" Rufus stretched his toes and tapped his humongous claws on the baked soil.

"Stop asking questions and get up." Giggleton grabbed onto the dragon's scales and clambered onto his back.

Rufus, none the wiser, did as he was told. He rose to his feet, stretched, and with a flap of his powerful wings, he shot into the air, flying toward the Castle of Jewels.