A short story. A hoard of silver is uncovered. Some terrible events unfold (I think involving domestic abuse, perhaps murder). Toward the end somebody has an awful thought, and counts the silver. There are thirty pieces! Thirty pieces of silver!
This one's a short story, I think, modern, I think. Maybe YA / MG-ish.
Somebody a bit magical-seeming comes and sells something. The price is something like "the blue from your eyes and the ring from your left finger." They show the buyer their face in a little mirror. (I think it's described as cobwebby or ashy or something). Later it happens again, only the price is something like "the red from your lips and the ring from your right finger." Eventually though there's a sort of happy ending. "He didn't have any magic, unless there was perhaps some magic in that mirror of his." The buyer realizes that they haven't actually paid these terrible strange magical prices! "What did he gain from it all?" they marvel. "What did he gain?" says the interlocutor. "Two rings, worth a fortune."