The Payment

Blinded by his ambition, Ainsley agreed without hesitation. Morag whispered enchantments in a tongue old as the hills and as cryptic as the swirling mists. The mill’s wheels turned with newfound vigor, grinding grain faster than the eye could follow, producing flour finer than any seen before. Ainsley’s fortune grew, as did his pride.

But as the mill prospered, the waters of the Leith began to sing. At first, it was a soft murmur, barely perceptible over the clatter of the mill. Yet, the song grew louder, clearer, and more urgent, speaking of balance disrupted and a price to be paid. Ainsley, however, intoxicated by his success, chose to ignore the water's plea.