A deep-throat laugh left the figure. The blood, or something that looked scarily similar, stopped erupting from the being's palm as it closed, returning to its place. "I am sure you know by now who the prophecy is about."

"Yes. It's about Mistress Pepper. She is the ninth to have the Woodgrip sigil engraved on her shoulder."

The figure nodded. "The witch turns twenty-five in less than two days, is it?"

"Yes." Butter's heart raced; he had an inkling that he had missed something…something important, but he was too scared to ask the undoubtedly powerful being for help lest they zap him out of existence. 

The figure grunted. 

This is ridiculous. What did I do to annoy you now? 

Butter shook his head to rid himself of the incriminating thought and held his peace. 

"Because I like you, I will do you a favor."

"A favor?"

"Yes, little one," the intimidating figure said, looking around the place as if noticing it for the first time. They held out their hand, palm facing the bloody pool, and out came a shiny green pearl, untainted by the crimson liquid it had risen from. "It's a token of appreciation for your loyalty to the Woodgrip family."

The spherical gem flew towards Butter, hovered between his eyes for a few seconds, and disappeared between them. 

"Ouch!" 

"Ah, yes. I forgot to mention that it would hurt off and on. Especially when you use it."

Nothing the being said made sense to Butter, but he kept mum. 

"Am I that hideous?"

The feline cowered and shook his head. 

"This is ridiculous."

Great, now he had done it, hadn't he? Gone and gotten on the wrong side of Your Mightiness… whoever they were. 

The figure breathed out what looked like a cloud of crimson smoke. "I won't eat you up if you ask me a question every once in a while, little one," they said, sounding like an exasperated mum reprimanding her child. "Come on, then. Spit it out."

"What do you mean by when I use it? What happens when Mistress Pepper turns twenty-five? Can you please explain the prophecy to me? I think I got some of it wrong." Queries fell out of Butter like he was a clogged water faucet that had just been cleaned and turned on. 

The figure shook their head and laughed like Butter had cracked a joke; clearing their throat, they replied solemnly, "The day Poppy Woodgrip saved your life from the duckweed, before it died it cursed you. But you were a prince, and Poppy knew that the curse would last generations. It would destroy the kingdom. Lives would be lost, both human and magical."

"A curse that affects a family for generations? That's illegal. The MMMB banned it-"

"There was no MMMB four hundred years ago, little one."

Butter didn't have a good feeling about where this conversation was headed, but he wanted to know the truth. "Right…"

"Poppy Woodgrip was noble. She knew she was dying. She shielded you from the curse. Unfortunately, it changed course and transferred to her family."

"No."

"Yes."

Butter's limbs trembled, threatening to give way; his chest ached with the weight of Poppy's sacrifice. "But I saw-"

"Dalton Buttercutter, you saw nothing. You would have turned into a kitten either way. The duckweed had cursed you once already before Poppy arrived at the scene."

"But-"

"Don't interrupt me. You asked me a question, and I am giving you the answer," the figure said. As stygian clouds blanketed the sun, he added, "Do you remember the day Poppy Woodgrip was burned at the stake, and you went to her daughter and rescued her from your father's soldiers?"

The kitten nodded. 

"After you set her up for a comfortable life, she called you her savior." The being laughed. It was hollow. "She was a witch, a talented one. She didn't need you to save her."

Chill entered the kitten’s bones, making his body tremble. 

"The only reason I have left you alive even after my beloved bloodline was cursed because of you is because you didn't intend any harm when you stumbled upon Mao…and it helps that you are cute!" The hooded being spat out the words like they were surprised they felt this way. And it was totally unacceptable.

Butter was lost again.

The Woodgrips were beloved by the all-knowing-one?

What did that mean?

And, who or what the heaven was Mao? 

"The duckweed was called Mao, little one." 

Sun peaked out of the clouds, and warmth returned to Butter's body. "Oh…"

"Think back. Even before you became a kitten, you had already started hearing things humans couldn't. Poppy Woodgrip wanted you to be safe. She asked you to go to her daughter so she could protect you. The seer knew that upon transforming, you would have nowhere to go. She even told you to return to Mount Balsh before the marked ninth's twenty-fifth birthday."

"She did?"

"Yes!" They hissed. "Why do you think the Willowdrip girl found a man on such short notice. I had to dispense precious resources to get you both here.

Oh dear! 

The figure fell silent, but Butter didn't dare speak. In fact, it was just coming back to him now how he had failed to hear the instructions Ms. Poppy had given before the physician had arrived. 

"The burden," the entity spoke in a pained voice, "the Woodgrips have carried for generations, one which left their homes broken and cursed them to live their lives without love, alone and miserable, was meant for your family." 

The gravity of what had happened dawned on Butter, stealing his breath. He gasped for air, but it refused to enter his lungs. 

The entity snapped their fingers, relieving the kitten's pain. Though Butter still felt it, it didn't incapacitate him. 

"Both the Woodgrip family and you were cursed that day. Alas, you didn't come to me earlier," the figure paused; they lifted their hood, partially exposing their face. 

Butter looked away but then thought better of it. Slowly, he returned his gaze to them. The skin on their face was scared like someone had taken a knife and used the surface as canvas. 

"Unless…" Their eyes glowed auburn. "Unless you were always meant to end up here now. Right at this moment." 

Butter couldn't tell if it was his imagination or if the mighty being had actually sounded intrigued by something they had revealed. The kitten waited for them to go on; when they didn't, he said, "Your Mightiness, you were saying…"

"Yes. Any questions?"

Butter didn't know how to respond to that. He had already asked the questions. He was yet to receive answers to two of them. 

"Oh, yes," the figure said with a start, "The prophecy..." They drifted higher. In a booming voice that almost rendered the kitten deaf, they added, "Your mistress is the ninth marked Woodgrip you have served. If she doesn't open her heart and, as a consequence, fails to fall in love before the clock strikes twelve on the night she turns twenty-five, she will never be able to fall in love. The Woodgrip line will end with her, and so will your chance to grow old and die. Now, is there anything else you want to know?" They looked at their wrist as if checking their watch and continued, "Listen, you are not my only sub-"

"Sorry, Your Mightiness. One last thing, if I may?"

The hooded figure rolled their eyes. "Sure, why not."

"How do I use the pearl you put inside me?"

"Ah, silly me," they said and coughed. "To harness the power of the pearl, all you have to do is think about what you want to do and recite: Hail Satan, lord and master of all things not quite human."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay…"

"My advice: use it sparingly. The more complicated the wish, the greater the severity of the pain. Understand?"

"I understand, but-"

Just as suddenly as they had appeared, Your Mightiness disappeared, leaving Butter with a lifetime's worth of questions and a mission so mammoth that all his experience seemed to fall short in comparison. 

Chapter word count: 1368