The Frozen Queen

High up on a snowy mountain, the Queen sits upon her throne.

Within the frozen halls of her palace of ice, she stares out the panoramic windows, out across the lands. Her cold, azure eyes gleaming with frigid malice.

Years have passed since she had used her spiteful magic to cast the land into its frozen prison, yet she has not seemed to have aged even a single day. Such was the power of the malevolence within her heart; enough to stop the world under her icy spell.

Now, she spends her days sitting atop her ice-encrusted throne, thinking only of how to exact her revenge upon the one who had crossed her so long ago.

Oh, no, the hateful ice curse she had cast upon the world was not her final act of revenge, merely only a way to give herself time to conjure an even more malicious plan.

Each day she rises from her chilly bedchamber, a beautiful, deadly storm, and stalks her way to the throne room to sit and contemplate in a fury, the same as the day before.

Each day brings countless plans and schemes that come close to the mark, but each day ends with her screeching in frustration at not be able to come up with a suitable plot which matches her cold, vengeful heart, as she stomps off to sleep a listless sleep.

Though, as she slumbers, she dreams, not of the ice and cold into which she has plunged the world, but lush, green valleys on warm summer evenings.

Strolling through the fields of pastel-coloured flowers that glowing fireflies light as they float from one petal to the next, casting their bluish glow along the winding valley in the late summer eve.

It is during these fleeting dreams that the Queen’s magic wanes ever so slightly, and for those brief moments in the night, her icy grip slips and the world thaws just a little.

Never completely, but over the years, the people and places held in their place, suspended in ice, have been coming slowly back to life.

I have been coming slowly back to life.

Such sweet, promising dreams however, always end abruptly with the sun’s piercing light, shining into the Queen’s bedchamber and flooding her light-hearted subconscious with harsh memories of the infringement maligned against her. 

Thus, she awakes with malice renewed and the world is frozen once again, cutting off any hope of escaping her icy hold.

Yet, I bide my time, having no other choice but to.

Each night, I stand watch where she left me, like a sentry statue in the corner our bedchambers, encased within the magical ice that slowly melts away a little more with each of her fanciful dreams.

Each night I too stand and stare, pondering on what wrong act I could have possibly committed to turn my Queen’s so cold against her husband and plunge the world into its deep, frozen sleep.

Valley Run

He was making good time on his Sunday morning run, Gerald thought as he jogged along the wet pavement of the quiet country road.

It was a damp morning after the night rain which made for a pretty and peaceful jog in the light mists that hung low in the air amongst the trees of the woods that lines either side of the straight-running road.

Only a handful of vehicles had passed by so far, so he essentially had had the road to himself, which was one of the perks of living so far outside of town; quiet and private.

As he came down the side of a large dip in the road, a bunny hopped quickly across the lanes, diving down the grassy ditch before heading into the thick covering of trees to Gerald's right.

He passed by where the bunny had disappeared into the woods and looked down into the valley that led into a streaming brook at the basin. He slowed to see if he could spot the little bunny rabbit but it had already vanished in the camouflage of the foliage and shadows that filled the fairy-tale scene below.

Moving over to the narrow shoulder of the road, he peered down for a moment, but it only took that moment to lose his footing on the loose gravel and slip, sliding down the slick, wet grass of the hill, which gave no purchase to slow him down.

He kept sliding and rolling down the decline and into the dim light of the forest valley.

When he finally came to a stop he was laying on his back looking up at the canopy of pine and cedar trees that reached up and blotted the grey morning sky so that only slim cracks of light made it through to give the forest floor a diffused illuminance.

He sat up and brushed the clinging leaves and grass and twigs that had collected over his arms and legs on his chaotic trip down.

Wet and embarrassed, he surveyed the peaceful scene he had abruptly crashed into. The babbling stream to his left continued on its merry way, undisturbed by his arrival.

Birds chirped their songs high up on the tree branches and for a long moment Gerald just sat back and took in the serenity of the nature surrounding him; calming his breathing to match the soft breeze that moved through the leaves above.

Even though it had been a painful way to go, he was almost glad he had taken the fall; it had allowed him to discover this hidden little oasis he would not have found if...

Across the brook Gerald caught sight of a small figure standing on a tree stump looking directly at him.

It was what looked to be a traditional garden gnome one would find nestled in any number of backyard flowerbeds.

The pointed red capped little chap, who stood no taller than Gerald's knee, wore a grey beard down to its chest that framed the rolly polly features of their face. A blue short-sleeved shirt with brown suspendered trousers and little black leather boots completed the ensemble.

The two stared at one another in the middle of the forest tableau; Gerald with astonishment whilst the gnome's rosy cheeks plumped as they smiled quite friendly, they glistening black eyes shining happily.

Not wanting to make any sudden movements to scare the little creature off, Gerald slowly lifted his hand from where it was propping him up and waved in a neighbourly fashion. He tried to find his voice to say hello but before he could begin to speak, the gnome held up a stubby finger to their lips and silently shushed him.

They then pointed their finger up and around, motioning that perhaps they were not alone in these woods.

Gerald's eyes followed to where their little finger pointed to see if he could catch a glimpse at any other hidden creatures of the forest but none presented themselves, just the lone gnome standing before him on its well-worn stump.

Bringing his eyes back to the storybook character made manifest before him, Gerald saw the gnome then move its arm downwards slowly, until pointing their chubby digit towards their rear.

Cupping its ear with its other hand as if they wanted Gerald to listen harder. They stood in stark silence, while Gerald obediently strained to head whatever it was they wanted him to hear.

The serenity of the quiet sounds of nature was then shattered by the single loudest fart Gerald had ever heard.

Disgusted surprise plastered itself across Gerald's face as the rude gnome giggled at their own immature little joke. 

Before Gerald could say an admonishing word, with a wink and a coy bop of its finger along the side of their red little nose, the farting forest gnome twinkled out of existence before Gerald's very eyes.

Leaving only the musty stench of its gaseous blast.

 

Witch Hazel

The witch of the wood lived a simple life in her modest hut of stone and thatched straw, and she was happy.

Her witching had never seemed like a job to her, she just enjoyed helping people so much she often felt guilty charging even the merger sum she did for her services.

Love potions, death potions, putting hexes on people's enemies, even the occasional mad ramblings to just intimidate someone bought her joy.

Villagers from the little towns bordering the big forest would make their way through the labyrinth-like woods to come ask for her witchy wares, and she would oblige them merrily.

On slow days, she would go out and find the poor retches that never found their way through the maze of gnarled old trees and loot their carcases for whatever offerings they had been planning to give to her anyway.

Yes, it was a good life being the witch of these here woods.

Sipping her tea, the witch sighed with satisfaction as she looked out the round window of her hut's kitchen.

The smile faded from her lips and a shadow crept over her face as she spotted a figure standing out amongst the trees just passed her cursed herbs garden.

It was a good life, except for this idiot.

Catching her eye in the window, the hooded figure started to wave excitedly and move to come into her yard.

Putting her tea cup down with a clatter, the witch dashed out of the back door to meet the grinning buffoon they could stomp all over her patch of lucky four-leaf clovers she had worked so hard to cultivate in this climate.

Alas, the simpleton trampled all through the delicate little patch of green before she could get to them.

The witch sagged with exasperation as the warlock dehooded himself while continuing to wave and stomp up to her, totally unaware of the destruction left in his wake.

"Hullo, Hazel!" he greeted her amiably. "I was hoping you'd be in today!"

Visibly, Hazel the witch rolled her eyes as the warlock's robes got caught on the barbed wire fencing that surrounded the more deadly genus of flowers in her garden.

"What do you want, Wilbur?" Hazel asked with supreme annoyance. "I am a very busy witch."

Wilbur struggled to pull himself free from the fencing just before a big Venus snapped at his head; unfortunately not taking it clean off his crooked shoulders.

"Oh, I've run into a bit of a problem with a spell you could say." Wilbur the warlock stammered as he reached Hazel where she stood in her irked stance.

"You could say you run into a lot of problems, Wilbur." Hazel replied bone dryly.

"Yes, well," Wilbur continued unfazed. "More of a situation with a Doubling spell, really. I was working on it for Farmer Thendorg in Fenrith over yonder, and well, I could really use a pitch of your Dissolving powder. You know the one you use for really big wart removals?"

Hazel's hand automatically went up to her chin before she stopped it with a nonchalant dismissive wave. Her skin was clear and smooth now, no need to doubt herself.

"Yes, I know of my own powders and potions, Wilbur." She snapped. "What of it? What could you possibly have to trade that I would want?"

Grinning his stupid, goofy grin, Wilbur started to root around in his robes.

"I am NOT interested in any of that!" Hazel protested abhorrently while trying to avert her eyes.

Unaware of her disgust, Wilbur pulled out a handful of little, orange coloured toadstool stumps.

"Well, I just so happened to come across a patch of these beauties." Wilbur offered proudly. "I might not have the skill to distil these Halorooms for their potent properties, but a witch of your prowess would certainly find them valuable."

Through her splayed fingers, Hazel peeked at the mushrooms Wilbur held out to her and a greedy spark ignited in her green eyes.

"Well perhaps." Hazel tried to sound mildly interested with maximum restraint. Those little knobs could last her years and keep her pot overflowing with coins from the women and men who coveted their 'uplifting' qualities.

"I only need a cupful." Wilbur said earnestly. The fool had no idea how valuable those mushrooms were. "Just enough to make a batch of Vanishing potion." He explained.

Playing it ever so cool, Hazel took her time mulling the trade over, instead of instantly snatching the orange stumps up greedily from his clammy hands.

"I suppose I could spare some." She said thoughtfully. "But only, a half a cup. I'm running low myself." She quickly added.

Wilbur's grin somehow widened further to show even more crooked and snaggled teeth. He's probably aimed high, knowing he'd only need a pitch of the stuff anyway and thought him self pretty shrewd, she thought.

"Bless you, Hazel!" he blurted as he dumped the mushrooms clumsily into her hands so forcefully she had to stumble back as to not have him right on top of her.

"Okay, okay." She told him as she pushed him back. "You just stand here while I go get the powder. There's hex traps all over the yard so I mean it: stay put!"

Wilbur stood at attention dutifully as Hazel bustled back into her hut, muttering giddily to herself about how the idiot warlock was finally proving useful.

After a few moments she came back out to him carrying a little burlap satchel daintily between her finger and thumb.

"Here you go..." She tried to put as much sugar into her voice as possible in his presence,"...darling." she shuddered with self-loathing. "Now, don't you drop it, because it's liable to crate a hole in the ground so deep you'd never stop falling." She could only hope.

"Thank you so much, Hazel!" Wilbur said with so much gratitude Hazel almost felt bad filching him. Almost.

"Now just go straight back the way you came." She instructed him faux-sweetly. "You don't want to step on one of my hexes!"

Wilbur stumbled around and goose-stepped back over the patch of clovers without noticing again as Hazel held her false smile with a wave.

"Oh, thank you again!" Wilbur burst as he waved back while walking out through the slightly over-grown path. "Don't worry, I'll be carefu..."

With a sudden poof, the warlock disappeared in a puff of purplish smoke.

Hazel gasped in surprise as the satchel of Dissolving powder fell freely through the smoky air towards the ground, only to be caught by a quick acting hand.

Hazel balked at the sight of a second Wilbur the warlock as he caught the satchel and waved stupidly at her.

"Doubling spell problem!" He called to her with a wink. "Thanks again!"

The warlock turned and rambled into the trees where Hazel now saw that there were a dozen or so Wilburs waiting.

They all waved and grinned like the same moron that had just gotten hexed into the Neither Realms.

Hazel shook her head in disgust and stopped waving abruptly.

"Idiots."

Power Pyramid

Waking up outside of the Sun Temple just before the dawn was Lenethal's favourite part of the day.

The long day ahead spent toiling in the quarry, loading carts with stones and pushing them up to the top of the rough incline to dump them over the edge of the great chasm and then back down again for another load, was all made bearable by watching with anticipation as the sun rose over the apex of the Temple's peaked roof.

The ancient architects that had designed the Temple had masterfully planned out how the building's sloped walls would align perfectly with the arc of the sun's ascent into the morning sky.

So as the golden light slowly crept up the backside of the Temple, the smooth onyx stones of which it was constructed would seem to radiate from within.

From his spot in the dusty field, front and center of the Temple, Lenethal could take in the full effect of the pitch black pyramid structure as the golden glow shone out from behind, causing the silhouetted horizon and Temple to seem as one; organically intertwined as if the Temple itself were a natural part of the landscape.

Just as the sun almost reached the pinnacle of the pyramid's pointed peak, the top of the Temple would open with a horizontal slice of light and lift off from the base; letting the sun shine directly through like an all seeing eye.

This moment Lenethal would await the most each day, for as the sun's rays were caught by the Temple's open oculus, they were amplified and a beam of pure light would blast out and down to the field full of humble workers below; engulfing one of them that had come to be chosen.

Lenethal watched, crestfallen, as the older man who had been only a few rows away from him, was blasted into oblivion by the Sun Temple's beam of light.

Once the light had faded and there was only a blackened mark in the hard sand where the man had stood, the Sun Temple's peaked top closed once more and the round, red sun rose peacefully into the sky above, the crowds of workers beginning to shuffle off, making ready for the day's hard tasks.

And Lenethal sighed as usual and started to slump off to his awaiting quarry cart.

Oh well, he thought with a sniffle, perhaps tomorrow I will be one of the lucky ones.

Cloud WIzard

Up through the clouds I rose; looking down passed my feet the hundreds of meters below to where I had, until a few moments ago, been standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street.

My stomach turned as I continued to ascend into the cold, crisp air where the wet wisps of clouds began to gather around me, obscuring the world far below.

Through my confusion I could hear a distant voice, booming yet froggy, seemingly uttering an incantation in a kind of a singsong cadence.

I drifted dreamily through the misty clouds, closer to the voice, spouting in unfamiliar languages as I drew nearer.

Breaking thorough the thick white cover, I came into an opening within the clouds, like a huge pocket hidden inside, and in the middle of the spherical area stood a bearded old wizard, wearing his tall wizard's hat and long wizard's robes.

The wizard waved his wooden wizard's staff back and forth as he continued his enchantment and I floated over to where he stood.

Landing tentatively upon the surprisingly springy cloud floor, I steadied myself as the dizziness from the height wore off unnaturally quickly.

The wizard went silent and regarded me; taking in my regular street clothes with his wizened-eyed gaze.

After an awkward moment of staring in silence I ventured a greeting.

"Hello..." I began.

"I have brought you here!" the wizard's voice boomed loudly and thunder rumbled through the clouds.

"Ahem," he adjusted his voice before continuing, seemingly as surprised at his volume as I was.

"I have brought you here to aid me in a task, mortal." He stated in his quieter, yet still deep, froggy voice.

"Okay, but..." I began again before the wizard cut me off, again.

"For many ages I have been exiled to this realm of clouds," he explained, "by my nemesis, the vile dark wizard, Hemel!"

He spat with rage as he said the name of his enemy; his eyes now filled with wild anger.

"The miscreant became jealous of the fact that I had gained the affections of a fair and powerful witch, and so he flung me here to the far reaches of the realm of winds and sky with an underhanded spell."

I listened to his tale with half interest as I was also concerned with not sinking into the clouds so I did not catch all of the sorted details of the wizard affair, until he got to the point of levitating me up here.

"And so, it is to you I ask for aid." The wizard addressed me directly again. "For I need a mortal's help in collecting the final item necessary to counter the dubious spell and allow me to return down to the surface below."

"Will you help me, my mortal friend? Will you be my champion and quest to retrieve what I need to complete my spell?"

The wizard's voice was regal and commanding, yet there was a hint of a desperate plea within, and I felt compelled to help the old fella out, despite being magically whisked up into the clouds by him, without my consent.

"Yeah, sure," I answered. "What do you need?"

The old wizard practically did a jig right then and there as he took hold of my shoulders and laughed gleefully.

"Oh, ho!" He exclaimed with a mirthful smile. "Thank you, my friend! Thank you!"

He spun around in kind of manic pacing and began to go through the planned spell excitedly, most of which was a mumbled mess in my ears.

"I have almost everything I need," he finished. "Yet, the last ingredient is most difficult, for I cannot simply harvest or cultivate it from up here on high. It maybe difficult to find, for in my time it was only found in the remote parts of an unexplored land, full with dangerous beasts and harsh landscapes."

I began to regret agreeing to help out so quickly as he listed all of the hazards that might be involved in retrieving this mysterious ingredient, until finally he said what the ingredient was and I balked in surprise.

"Wait," I interrupted his rambling explanations. "Do you just mean that sap they use for making chewing gum?"

The old wizard looked at me incredulously. "You know of the ancient Sapodilla tree?"

"Yeah, that's it!" I replied excitedly as the recollection of the name I had learned in high school science class. "They make gum with it. Here you go!"

I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out my packet of gum and handed it to the wizard.

"It's a little flattened because I was sitting on it, but will it do?"

The wizard took the slightly smashed pack of gum and read the ingredients on the back to himself.

"You mean," he started, a little dumbfounded. "You just carry around these little sticks made with the rare sap to chew on all day?"

"I don't know how rare it is, it might be synthetic nowadays, but yup. Is that it?" I asked helpfully.

"Y... yes, that's all..." He sounded deflated after his triumphant excitement of only a few moments ago.

"Alrighty, so can I go back down now?" I asked. "I was on my way to the movies and I should be able to still make it if you could zip me back down."

Still staring with astonishment at the pack of gum, the wizard didn't even look up as he waved his hand in my direction.

"Yes, of course, thank you again." He said distractedly as I was lifted once more into the air and began to descend back down through the clouds.

"Oh, wait!" I shouted to the shrinking form of the wizard as I was flung down from the cloud chamber. "Could you make me a magic potion!?"

My voice was lost in the rushing air as I zoomed back down to the Earth below.

Shoot, I thought to myself. I should have asked for it before giving him the gum. Oh well.

Shade

Once there was a little girl that lived in an old mansion at the top of a hill near the edge of town.
 

She wasn't like the other children of the town; while they went to school each day, and ran outside and played, she stayed inside the old house, with its high-reaching iron gates that gave it a foreboding and unwelcoming presence.

 

From a window on one of the upper floors she watched the goings on of the town's children, safely in the shadows through the telescope her parents had given her a long time ago.

 

She watched and observed them as they skipped happily to school with their friends in the mornings, and in the afternoons when their parents would come to meet them on their way home.

 

It was a very idyllic town and its townsfolk were happy and content, even with the looming shadow that old mansion cast down upon it from the hill above.

 

Her parents had been from a prosperous family that had founded and owned many businesses in the town, but as long as everything ran smoothly, they were content to leave the town's people to themselves; as long as the same consideration was given to them. And so they paid the mansion on the hill very little mind.

 

It did make for a solitary life, though not a lonely life per sae, for she had a very inquisitive mind and she filled her days poring over the vast library of books that took up almost the entire second floor of the big house.

 

The books ran the range of subjects from the sciences, to literature, to philosophy, to even the occult. And the petite girl devoured them all; spending whole days sitting in the library's old leather chair that made her look even tinier against its high back and arms.

 

On other days she would run experiments in the cellar's homemade laboratory her parents had commissioned built to fuel her inquisitive predisposition.

 

Finding an interesting idea or theory in one of her books, she would test and confirm the results, and even in quite a few cases, improve upon the original hypothesis.

 

Yet, when she did make her observations out of the window through the lenses of her long telescope, she did yearn to be able to get a closer look at her subjects; purely for scientific reasons.

 

Alas, because of her condition, she could not venture out into the light of day.

 

Very many of her scientific experiments revolved around the problem of her affliction, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, yet the solution always seemed to elude her.

 

Until she came upon an antiquated book in the mystical section of the library that was a compendium of ancient folk lore and magic tales.

 

She sometimes read these books as a break from the headier subject matter she usually delved into, yet, one of the tales sparked an interest in her. For it might indeed lend itself as an at least aid to her condition.

 

Taking the large tome down to her workshop lab, she proceeded to gather the materials needed to create the described subject found upon the thick, yellowed pages.

 

The process took several days and involved a number of stages of setting and waiting for the setting to take hold, not to mention the numerous incantations that needed to be spoken aloud in the ancient tongues in which the book had been written in order to complete the entire process properly.

 

But being very studious and meticulous, of course the small girl recited them and performed the rituals proscribed perfectly.

 

Once she had completed the process, the girl had only to wait for the light of a specific phase of the moon to see if her efforts would be fruitful.

 

So one clear, midsummer evening, as she sat reading in the library, the moon shone in the night sky, its pale light flooding through the high paned windows, the sound of heavy clomping came from the stairs leading up from the cellar.

 

Marking her place and putting her book aside, the girl watched the doorway as the approaching footfalls came closer along the hallway outside.

 

Filling the entirety of the library's large doorway frame, a great clay Golem stood staring down at the tiny girl from out its hollow eye sockets.

 

With no hesitation or fear, she walked over to the humongous creature to inspect her work as a crafter would a piece of equipment they had engineered.

 

After looking the creature over thoroughly, she gave a nod to herself, satisfied with the results; so far. She would have to wait until the next day to really test her theory out.

 

With that, she bade the lumbering hulk to stand outside her bed chamber door, a silent sentinel as she lay down, unable to sleep in anticipation of the next day's potential.

 

By the time the dawn sun rose, she was cranky with no sleep, but arose quickly and dressed in the cloak and delicate lace veil her mother had given to her but she had never had the opportunity to wear except whenever she was restless to go outside and tried them on, only to be made upset at the fact she could not have used them properly.

 

But on this day! This day, she donned the outfit to go out into the world at last.

At least, she hoped.

 

Opening the door to the hallway, she found the Golem still standing as she left it, and motioned for it to let her step up onto its massive open palm in order to be able to reach up and place a tightly rolled scroll of parchment into its open mouth.

 

Stepping back down from its outstretched hand, the girl proceeded to head downstairs toward the front entrance, the big Golem lumbering behind with its clomping feet thumping on the hardwood floors.

 

Peering out the intricately blown glass windows of the double doors of the main entrance, the girl felt nervous at the prospect of actually setting foot outside in the bright sunlight, but her confidence in her methods bolstered her courage and she looked up over her shoulder to the big clay figure behind her and nodded to it, then opened the doors.

 

Stepping out onto the stone steps of the front of the house that led down to the seldom used driveway, the little girl was hesitant.

 

Then a shadow was cast over her from above and she looked back to confirm her Golem had taken out its gigantic parasol to completely engulf her in its shade.

 

Taking another experimental step out further into the outside, she heard the thump of the Golem's matching footfall.

 

One after the other, its foot steps matched hers in perfect synchronicity.

 

When she stopped, it stopped. When she started again, it started; all the while, holding the huge parasol aloft so that she always remained in its shade.

 

The industrial sized umbrella was constructed of heavy canvas and steel, which made it weigh too much for any normal being to convey.

 

Yet, the Golem hefted it in the air with ease, and so it made it the perfect companion to accompany the lone, little girl into the bright light of the world.

 

She looked out at the town that lay passed the wrought iron bars of the gates at the end of the drive and was filled with excitement at being able to open them and venture outside their confinement at long last.

 

After all these many years of living alone, she was going to be amongst the people she had only observed from her high window.

Within the shade of her Golem, the eternally youthful looking girl smiled broadly, her sharp, white fangs in stark contrast to her blood-red lips.

Queen of the Woods

Sunlight flits through the canopy of green that covers the forest as the Queen of the Woods moves among the tress on her early morning sortie to awaken the woodlands to the new day.

Her bare feet gently brushing the forest floor as she hovers along; the fallen leaves and pine needles tickling her toes making her giggle and show her warm smile.

At the sound of her mirthful laughter, the flowers begin to open their blooms as she passes by, gingerly touching their soft pedals with the tips of her fingers, causing the colours of each one to further deepen in richness for their Queen.

The many creatures inhabiting the woods emerge from their cozy dens in the tall trees or burrows in the soft ground to greet their Mistress with chirps and calls of excitement.

Smiling broadly as she passes her woodland subjects, the Queen of the Woods spins around in the air, her ephemeral sundress twirling around, swirling the leaves and needles and grasses up with a merry rustling sound, bringing more creatures out from their night-time refuges.

Lifting her arms up, the Queen beckons her realm to come alive and not be afraid, for the sun has risen and her sister, the Night Queen's time has passed for another day.

Coming to an ancient tress stump, she steps gently down onto the soft ground and sits regally, a true Queen on her throne.

The soft breeze continues to tussle her flowing hair about as if she still moved, causing her to radiate with constant life and beauty; puffs of pollen dancing in the breeze around her wooden-crowned head.

Bunnies, chipmunks, sparrows, moose, birds, bears, and all manner of her animal subjects gather around her as she greets them one and all with a beaming smile and melodious laughter as shafts of golden sunlight shine down upon her; illuminating her with brilliance.

All forgetting the fearful night as their Queen has come to protect them in the new day's light.

All unaware, that from within the shadows still hidden from the light between some of the older gnarled, closely growing trees, the Night Queen watches.

Night's dark eyes full of contempt for her sister sitting surrounded by her loving rabble of simpering creatures; she too had loyal subjects, the creeping, slithering, scuttling beasts of the night; some of which moved over the skin of her bare legs and feet as she stood cloaked in shadows.

And soon, they would be let loose on the world of the sunlight to vanquish the day and turn it forever into night.

Soon, the Night Queen thought, backing further into the darkness, her malevolent grin full of starkly white teeth glistening bright.

The Stone Wolves

Once there lived two strong and proud wolves that loved each other and made their way throughout the vast forests, hunting together as strong and proud wolves do.

Keeping to the deep woods, the wolves usually tried avoided people; not out of fear, but because people always made trouble, both for the animals of the land and for themselves.

Yet, on one hunt, their quarry brought them close to a modest hut, further into the forest than people usually made their homes. This was because the hut belonged to an old, cantankerous wizard who himself wanted to stay away from other people as well, for he found trouble for himself always.

And as of late, a pesky fox had been making trouble, poaching the wizard's chickens; so it was that when the wolves passed by the old sorcerer's wooded home, he was surveying the latest of the fox's crimes.

He spotted the grey and white wolves as they darted through the trees, stalking a majestic white-tailed buck that leapt and bounded ahead of them, and thought they had pilfered his meagre chickens.

His ire raised, the wizard took his anger out on the unlucky wolves, who would have been too proud to ever have resorted to robbing chickens from a pen, as it would be very low and undignified.

Casting a powerful spell with his crooked staff, the wizard blasted the wolves in a blinding flash of light that sent them both to the far ends of the immense forests, separated from each other; cursed to a life in the shadows.

For the spell the malevolent, old wizard had cast upon them would turn them to stone if they ever were touched with daylight again.

As soon as the wolves awoke from their abrupt journeys, they knew their fate in their hearts; if they felt the warmth of the sun's light again, they would be petrified.

Alone, with thousands of leagues between them, the wolves began to make their ways back to each other, for they also had a love in their hearts for one another that drew them together like a shimmering beacon.

Long, cold nights of travelling through the wild and thick woods they spent hunting alone for whatever creatures that were foolish enough to venture out in the darkness; fighting fierce battles with other predators that were the reason most of the animals feared to come out into the night, but their determination to get back to one another gave them the strength to persevere no matter the challenge.

Many moons passed and the two wolves had travelled such a long way, always careful to find shelter from the day before the sunrise broke through the forest's thick canopy of trees.

And though their arduous journeys were solitary and taxing, they never felt abandoned, for they could feel one another coming closer and closer as they made their way across the lands.

The pull of one another became stronger and stronger, until, after almost a year apart, the wolves could feel they were finally nearing the other and their hearts swelled with love.

All through the last night they both ran, the knowledge their lost love was close at hand drove them on, through their hunger, through their exhaustion; soon they would be together again and that was enough to keep them going.

Leaping and bounding up the last rocky slopes of the climbing forest ridge, they felt one another just over the next peak, and as they reached the crest of the hill, the trees abruptly ended and there was a clearing of sun-bleached stone ground.

Spotting one another breaking through the tree line, they sprinted with all their might towards each other; all thought of the early dawn light creeping over the horizon forgotten to their joy of reuniting with their lost love.

But their reunion was not meant to be, for as they came within a few last paces of one another, the sun's rays breached the horizon to their left and they stopped dead in their tracks; turned to solid stone by the wizard's curse.

So now it is that the stone wolves stand facing each other in the clearing at the top of the forest mound; strong and proud, they watch over one another, forevermore.

Castle Alverone

Can you see it? High up above; barely visible, but it is up there, that tiny speck that crosses the moon when it shines brightly on cool, clear nights.

Make no mistake, though, it's still there even behind the cover of clouds; there in the blinding light of day. It's always there, making its journey around us as we sit down here on the ground; through the vacuum of space, shining like a beacon with the reflected light of the stars themselves.

Orbiting the planet; a lone sentinel from a time long gone: The Silver Castle of Mount Alverone.

You doubt that it's true? There couldn't possibly be a castle made of silver rotating around above us in space, you say? How did it get there? Why is it up there; might be questions that come to mind.

Good questions to ask indeed, but perhaps you might mull over instead: who lives up there still, in such an unlikely of places? And what could have caused them to leave this Earth behind?

There have been many theories throughout the years; the greatest minds in history trying to answer the problem in vain.

Perhaps the lord or lady who dwells within ran a foul of a powerful dark warlock who cast a spell over the castle, causing it to float up like a balloon until it left the atmosphere, got caught up in the perpetual gravitational pull of the planet's orbit and is now forever stuck spinning in tandem with Earth's daily trip around the sun.

Or maybe it was an early scientist that created the world's first castle-shaped rocket, but once it blasted foolishly off the Earth's surface with powerful fireworks; it only had enough gumption to get stuck up there in its unending ellipse.

Another possibility altogether could be that an angry and bitter old wizard became fed up with the problems of the world and its people and build a magic castle to leave the planet behind; floating peacefully out in space, away from everyone.

Many a brilliant mind have gone mad before their time with obsession at solving the riddle, but no one has got it just right.

How would I know, you ask? How would a doddering old man in a shabby old suit, sitting here alone on a park bench know what the smartest of people throughout history have all wrong?

Well, let me answer that with a bit of advice for you; free of charge:

If you ever set out to build a castle made of material so light you could move from place to place, in order to visit the many lands your rule over, simply by picking it up with your one hand: make sure you tether it to your wrist with a damned string!

And make doubly sure that you do so if your lady wife asks you to go get some fresh milk from the farmer down the way, otherwise there will be hell to pay, whenever you figure out how to get the blasted castle back down again.

Destroyer

What had he done?

Along the shore of the coastline, the sheer cliffs rose up from the swirling black waters of the sea as the dark clouds gathered overhead.

Flashes of lightning rumbled with thunder inside the ominous clouds as the storm within grew, threatening to unleash itself upon the green farm lands that lay a top the high-reaching cliffs.

Haemal stood on the rocky shore that led out from the hidden cave entrance to meet the crashing waves of the angry waters that swelled under the darkening skies.

He had only meant to exact revenge on the farm folk that had banished him from the little village above; the village he had lived in all his life; his home.

All for what? Believing he had brought the drought that had caused the crops to wither and die out before they could be harvested?

What reason would he have had to bring about a famine that affected him as well as them?

Just because they thought he had delved too far into the 'black arts'. As if they knew the difference between natural healing and true Black Magic.

Simpletons.

Had he not cured many an ailment with his skills in apothecary? In fact, he had saved no small number of the village's children, who would have surely died without his knowledge of simple healing plants and herbs.

Yet, to the idiot villagers, his medicinal potions were no different than the blackest of magics.

So when they needed to place blame for a run of bad weather, they turned their anger and frustration to him and threatened to do him harm if he did not leave the meagre little hamlet.

Pelting him with the rotten and spoiled crops from their failed harvest, they had run him out of town and forced him to seek shelter in the cold, damp caves of the cliffs below.

There, he had given into his anger and ventured into studying the very subject he had vowed never to practice: Black Magic.

Within the darkness of the caves, he had pored over the volumes of primeval texts he had taken with him and found an incantation that promised to bring punishment to one's enemies.

Little did he know that behind all Dark Magic, laying in wait behind the words written upon the ancient pages, a sinister force awaited a fool to perform the ritual transcribe and release its evil upon the world.

He had been a fool indeed, he thought as he stood in terrified awe of the darkening scene in front of him.

From the depths of the churning waters he could see a humongous shape emerging, its hideous tendrils branching out and reaching up toward the surface; the intangible size of the thing filled Haemal with dread that boarded on madness.

Lightning cracked above and the bright flash lifted his eyes from the dark waters of the sea to the clouds converging above.

And the sight weakened his legs to cause him to drop to his knees and weep.

For the sea had only been the murky reflection of the creature emerging from the darkness of the cloud-filled sky.

What had he done?

In his foolish pursuit for revenge, he had become a puppet of the evil he had been persecuted for.

Screaming in aguish as the tentacles reached down from the clouds that veiled the beast's true form; his last thoughts were the terrible realization that he had brought about the end of all things.

Gnorman

Once there was a gnome named Gnorman who lived near the edge of the woods that bordered the suburb, which in turn bordered the big, sprawling city to the south.

But Gnorman had never ventured that far away from his house; hidden within the exposed roots of an old oak tree, just a little ways in from where the backyards of the well-kept neighbourhoods touched the forest's edge.

He was content with staying in the woods of his ancestral home and did not feel the draw to the big city like so many of the other gnomes his age; roughly 108 years old in human years, yet still just a youngling in gnome society.

While others his age wanted to move to the big human city to fill one of the many positions there, Gnorman felt he had a duty to stay and take up his father's district; covering the subdivision that had been their family's responsibility for many hundreds of years, possibly since the very beginning of humans settling in the land so long ago.

Each day Gnorman would wake up before the sun rose, have a good breakfast of mushrooms and moss porridge and then head out to along the twisting and winding path to the old fishing pond that lay safely hidden away in the deep woods.

Setting up his rods, nets, baskets he would sit on the soft green grass that surrounded the glimmering waters of the pond as the morning sunlight filtered down in beams through the canopy of trees and cast his line in.

Soon he would start to drift off to sleep to the sounds of the birds chirping in the distance and the soft breeze blowing through the branches of the trees; until a bite would come on his line and startle him to alertness as he gripped his rod and began reeling in his catch.

It would not take long once the first bite was on the line before his baskets were full and he was at his limit for the day and it was time for him to head home with the afternoon sun hanging high in the sky above.

Once back in his cozy little tree home, Gnorman would prepare all of that day's catch for that night's outing and after a tasty lunch, lay down for a nap before heading out again once the sun set and darkness blanketed the night sky.

Heading out under the cover of night, Gnorman headed out toward the houses of the suburb, lit by the street lights lining the roads in the front, yet the darkened back yards still made it easy for the little gnome to approach unseen with his knapsack full upon his back.

Slipping in to each house by the little nooks and crannies that the humans failed to pay attention to, he would make his way to the bedrooms of the sleeping children, dig into his sack and sprinkle the good dreams he had brought to put into their slumbering minds.

It filled him with a great sense of pride to know that he was tasked with bringing all the children of this subdivision their happiest of childhood dreams from the magical pond of wishes back in the forest.

He smiled as a child he had just sprinkled a dream of flying through space in a cartoon rocket ship on grinned in their sleep, but then a movement in the corner made him frown and stare into the shadows there.

From the dark of the corner, two red glowing eyes appeared and were joined by a crooked, toothy grin. Gnorman gave a little growl as a dark gnome stepped out of the shadows with its own sack full on its back.

Stalking around the room, the two little gnomes circled each other as Gnorman tried to keep the dark gnome away from the still sleeping child.

"You get out of here, Ggordon!" Gnorman hissed in a whisper. "I've already given the child their dream for the night; they don't need you mucking it up with your rotten ones. Now get!"

Gnorman lunged at Ggordon but the other gnome did not flinch, only smiled mischievously and tried to edge his way closer to the child's bed; always keeping his eyes on Gnorman.

"I've just as much right to do my job as you do." Ggordon croaked hoarsely. "Gotta have some bad dreams too, ya know." He said as he tried to jump up on the end of the bed, but Gnorman pulled him down.

"Not your brand of bad dreams." Gnorman whispered loudly as he dragged Ggordon back down and pushed him towards the window. "I know you've been putting a little extra darkness in those dreams of yours, kids ain't supposed to be havin' those kinda nightmares yet."

With a sweep of his leg, Gnorman kicked Ggordon in the rear as the dark gnome growled and rounded back to tackle him.

The two pint-sized gnomes rolled around on the floor of the moonlit room, gnashing and clawing at each other trying to get the upper hand, until they hit into one of the play table chairs and knocked it over with a thud.

Both gnomes froze and looked over to where the child lay in their bed and saw their eyes fluttering open; woken from the noise of their scuffle.

Forgetting their scrap, the two gnomes scrambled for the windows on the opposite walls from each other, leading out to the east and west sides of the house.

Clambering up to the sill of the west window, Gnorman looked over to see Ggordon was breathing heavily as he stared over at him from the east window, still sneering bitterly.

Taking a last look at the child, he saw that they were looking from him to Ggordon with sleepy disbelief, before the two gnomes slipped out of the house and into the night.

As the child sat up in bed, they tried to decide whether the little bearded men they had seen on the windows had been real or jus part of their dream. In the end, they figured it was just part of the dream and tried to fall back asleep so they could get back to the awesome space adventure dream they had been having.

From now on, Gnorman thought as he headed back home before the dawn's light broke over the horizon; he was going to have to keep an eye out for that jerk, Ggordon and his sack full of bad dreams.

The Maze

The three of them ran down the corridor as the medieval-looking walls closed in on them further and further.

Trace, Chad, and Melody gradually moved from a three-abreast to a single-file formation, desperately trying to make it to the opening at the end of the long, ever-narrowing passageway before being crushed to death.

Ahead of him, Chad watched Trace as she reached the opening and disappeared around its edge moments before he made it himself and leaped around the corner of the opening.

Once around, he found Trace stopped dead in her tracks in front of another opening and barely had time to stop before ramming into her.

From behind he heard Melody's guttural shout as she leapt out of the opening just as the walls slammed unforgivingly together.

Not slowing, she kept right on running passed him and Trace, but snapping out of her gaze, Trace snatched Melody's arm just before she careened straight off the edge of a deep chasm that led into darkness below.

"Whoa, there!" Trace shouted as she held onto the still yelling Melody and pushed her back against the pockmarked stone of the wall that connected to the ledge they stood on; no wider than a few paces.

"Oh, shit!" Melody exclaimed as she realized what was in front of her and her eyes bulged at the seemingly bottomless void they now were faced with. "What's with this place!? I just want to get the hell outta here!"

Trace gripped the panicking Melody by the shoulder and tried to calm her.

"It's okay. We're okay." Trace tried to placate her. "We'll just figure this one out like the rest and we'll be on our way out. Just calm down and take a breather."

Chad strained his eyes to look across the expanse and could see another ledge and opening on the far side. Tracking the opposite side to the left and right, he could see no way across.

"I don't know." He stated in his unperturbed voice. "I can't see any way to get to that other side, and..." Squinting to focus further on the far side, he continued, "...I think, Trace, do you see what I see over there?"

Trace looked from Melody to follow Chad's outstretched arm to where his finger pointed across the wide gorge. To the other side where she could just make out three figures standing on the ledge opposite them. One of them pointing back to where they stood.

"Oh no." Trace said in a downtrodden voice.

"What?" Melody asked frantically as she looked across at what the other two were staring at.

"Great." She exclaimed once she finally saw the others staring back, "a giant mirror wall! So there's probably nothing over there at all to even get to; a trick to make us try and jump or something and just fall forever into this bottomless pit!"

Her voice echoed across the expanse as she slid down the wall to a crouch, holding her head in her hands as she began to rock back and forth.

Chad continued to watch their far reflections as Trace tried to comfort Melody again.

"It's okay, Melody." Trace soothed, "we'll figure something out, maybe we'll just go along the ledge here until we find another opening. What do you think, Chad?"

Before he could respond, Melody laughed derisively.

"Ha! Chad is probably loving all of this!" She huffed accusingly. "An endless, mysterious, and ancient maze, full of deadly traps, all hidden below a legitimately haunted house that he goaded us into exploring! He's probably having the time of his life!"

Starting to laugh hysterically, Melody pushed Trace's arms away and continued to rock on her heels.

"Hey!" Chad's booming shout jolted both women's attention to their usually mild-mannered and good humoured friend.

"Stan is dead!" He cried out. "We evoked the wrath of the spirit of the evil necromancer that built that house up there, when YOU red aloud the inscription on that ebony orb I might add, and have been wondering this ghost-riddled maze for who knows how long. If we don't get killed by the maze's puzzles, or a ghost of one of that guy's victims, we'll probably starve to death because I haven't found anything to eat down here, have you?!"

Calming a little, Chad shivered and continued in his regular voice as the other two stared in shock.

"So, no, Melody," he said with a sigh. "I am not loving it down here."

The three stood in silence for sometime before Chad stomped at a loose stone with his foot.

"Sorry." He said mildly. "I'm hungry and tired and scared. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I just want to get out of here too..."

He stopped as he kicked the loose stone over the edge of the ledge, and instead of falling down into the void of the pit, it seemed to just roll over the ledge and continue on.

"What a second." He said as he peered over the edge.

Trace and Melody looked at each other with mutual puzzlement and then to Chad just as he was stepping over the edge.

"Chad, no!" Trace shouted as she moved to grab him, but it was too late, he had disappeared over the ledge.

She scrambled over to where he had stood and reared back with surprise as his head popped back into view from beyond the darkness.

"It's corner, not a ledge!" Chad told them with glee. "Just step around and the ground is beneath you! Come on, there's an opening just down there!"

He pointed off to a direction hidden by the ledge.

Looking back at the flabbergasted Melody, Trace was flummoxed herself.

"I think we'll be out of here in no time!" Chad reassured in a chipper voice as he stood at an impossible angle.

Later, after escaping the soul survivor of the necromancer's accursed maze, though he would never admit it to anyone aloud, Chad was indeed having a really good time!

Wizard Fight!

Sparks and flames spewed up form beyond the hills at the eastern edge of the village.

The sky boomed and crackled with electricity as storm clouds rolled unnaturally in from the north and south, converging in the skies above the ancient battle grounds that had not been used in more than a century. Not since the last of the old wars had been fought.

Johann, the butcher's apprentice looked up from the carcass of the meanderbeast he was carving up to see the streaks of lightning shoot up from over the horizon; up from the grounds below, not down from the clouds above.

He wiped his bloodied hands upon his apron and ventured into the village's main street where his master's shop was prominently located.

From behind he heard the stomping of feet fast approaching as he looked toward the old battle grounds.

Turning just in time to jump back out of the way of the rushing crowds of villagers, running like mad toward the east end of the village; towards the commotions erupting there.

Johann caught sight of his friend Verner and yelled to him through the throng of people stampeding passed.

"Verner! What is all this about!?" He shouted as his friend approached.

Not slowing, Verner only waved for Johann to join them, shouting as he pointed east excitedly, "It's a battle!"

Not needing any more of an explanation, Johann threw off his apron and dashed to catch up with his friend as the growing crowd sped toward where columns of fire and smoke gushed up from behind the hills that hid the old wizard battle arena.

Clambering up the west slope of the grassy mound, the crowd spread out and came to a halt to stand in a line at the top of the hill, watching in awe at what was happening below.

Two cloaked figures stood at either end of the large field that was surrounded by the oval shape of the hill that been build up around it to create the natural arena in days long ago.

Smouldering craters and charred blast marks marred the field between the two long-bearded wizards as they both breathed heavily from the exertion of the many attacks they had already reined upon one another.

As the crowd gathered all along the top of the border hill, the wizards never took their eyes off one another, each lanky man of middling years squinting warily at their opponent, strategizing their next spell.

The wizard in his grey cloak, covered in dirt and soot, wiggled his fingers in readiness as the black cloaked wizard flex his fingers open and close, neither one blinking or making any other move to indicate what they might do next.

Suddenly, the wizard in black flung his arms forward as his hands glowed orange and shot forth a giant ball of flame that sped toward the wizard in grey. At the same moment, the grey shot a hand to the sky and bolts of lightning sparked from his finger tips, not towards his opponent, but to the clouds above.

Moving in a blink of an eye, the lightning bounced off the dark clouds and rebounded down to where the wizard in black stood. Before the man could react, hitting him directly in the chest.

Meanwhile, the grey cloaked wizard was able to safely jump out of the way of the ball of flame that flew passed him and exploded into the side of the far hill wall, knocking the spectators that stood watching flying in every direction.

As the smoke cleared from each of the explosions, the grey wizard could be seen hovering above the scorched field over to where his fallen rival lay prone, struggling to breath.

Glowing green orbs appeared in the approaching wizard's hands as he came to a landing a few paces from the black-clad wizard, who lifted a shaky arm in an effort to shield himself ineffectually.

Raising his hands to deal the final blow, the grey wizard looked down upon his fallen foe with contempt as the crowd watched with bated breath.

With his arm still weakly outstretched, the black wizard muttered an incantation barely above a whisper, but with a subtle circular motion of his badly burnt hand, a magical gate way opened in the space directly behind the grey and from out of it pour forth a horde of bearded wizards; all of them wearing the same long black robes as the one laying beaten on the battle field.

Hundreds of them streamed out of the portal and soon the grey wizard was surrounded by identical black cloaked wizards; hurriedly he created a domed shielding around himself.

Once the green glowing shield was in place, he quickly did a similar motion with his hand as his opponent, only directed at the air above where the black wizard lay.

From out of his portal, fell an army of his own duplicates, landing and spreading out to surround the wild-eyed black wizards.

For a moment both sides stood ready to attack at the slightest moment of the others.

Finally making it back up to his feet, the injured stood, his shoulders heaving as he seemed to be building his strength up by sheer will. Then, with a wild, unhinged scream, he cried, "Wizard Fight!"

Both the wizards and the crowd yelled and howled, and the real battle began.

https://youtu.be/jBOGaIy87Og

Village Dreams

Down in the sleepy village the sun's light was melting away into the western sky as the shade of the mountain branched out along the land to take its place.

Night would soon be upon the little village at the foot of the mountain and its inhabitants were finishing their daily tasks and making their way home to their modest thatched-roof cottages.

They were a good, hard-working folk that helped one another out whenever they could and they led happy, peaceable lives, with their families gathered together in their cozy homes, made warm by the flames alight in the cooking hearths, their lives were fulfilled.

Now that the evening light had faded completely, night had arrived and the villagers readied themselves for bed; for early the next day, the preparations for the winter festival would begin.

Midnight came and all were asleep, slumbering serenely in their warm, straw-laden beds, when a slinking shadow made its way through the empty village street, moving unnaturally against the moon's pale light.

Growing long, the shadow slithered like a serpent and seeped into the window of one of the cottages, where a young child lay sleeping in his bed on the second level loft.

The young boy had no siblings so he enjoyed the privacy of the upper loft to himself as his parents slept soundly on the main floor below.

He had never suffered from bad dreams before, but as the shadow cast its gloom over him, dark and foreboding visions came to him.

Visions of a skewed version of the world he knew; instead of clear blue, the blood red skies of his dream world were the backdrop to high-reaching towers of steel that crowded in on each other and loomed down on tortured figured that toiled and languished in the dirtied and polluted lands below.

None of what the boy saw in his dreams made sense to him, yet the images horrified him beyond anything he had ever witnessed; each more horrifying than the last, until a startling figure came into view above the nightmarish landscape, taking up the entirety of the skies.

The menacing gaze of a black-eyed man with a severe and gaunt face glared down at him within the dream. Yet, those pools of blackness seemed to somehow see through the dream, and gaze at him truly where he lay whimpering in his bed, still asleep.

A sneer slid across the man's face to reveal a mouth full of glinting, razor-sharp teeth that sent a wave of fresh terror through the boy, and then the truly terrifying revelation came to the slumbering child.

Somehow, the loathsome visage staring down at him through his dream was his own grown self; a twisted and blasphemous version of the man he would become.

With a jolt the boy awoke and cried out for his parent; the slinking shadow shrinking back out the window before they arrived to comfort their weeping son.

Back down the village street and out into the darkness of the surrounding forest trees, the shadow shrunk back until it became the hunched figure of a cloaked individual, hiding from sight amongst the old oaks.

Their task complete, the figure turned to shamble away further into the wood so that they were totally hidden by the darkness of the cover of the tall trees.

A strange sound came from within the darkness and then dissipated; leaving the sleepy village that lay nestled between the vast forest and the curving river alone and at peace once again.

From high up on the mountain top, a slight rumble sounded the beginning of what was to come.

Beginning

High up on a mountain top, the night wind blows and a portal opens in the air just above the stony ledge with a strange sound.

Out of the portal a dark figure steps down onto the snow-swept stone, and the razor-thin slice in the air closes with another odd sound; leaving the figure alone in the dim moonlight.

The figure lets their cloak loose to flutter in the whipping wind behind them like a cape, revealing their long, slender face in the pale light. The severe looking man seems unaffected by the harsh winds and freezing temperatures as he scans the area with dark eyes, which come to rest upon a small cave bore into the mountain side.

Striding purposefully to the cave, he ducks under the low hanging entrance to stand just inside; sliding into the shadows, just out of sight.

Once again the mountain top seems deserted.

Moments later, a new portal appears near the cave entrance with its distinctive sound and another figure steps out from its void.

The new cloaked figure stoops and twitches like a wary animal, awaiting the pounce of a predator, as they edge their way against the mountain side. Their portal dissipates and leaves them too close to the cliff edge for their liking.

Sliding over to the cave opening, the figure moves to slip inside when the taller hidden figure reveals himself out of the shadows of the opening.

“Have you done as I have asked, retch?” he asks in a harsh, commanding voice as he brings himself up to full height, looming over the cowering and hunched figure, who scrambles back away to a safe distance.

“Oh!” they exclaim with choked terror. “ Y..yes, Master Luvoa! Yes, of course! Hasn’t Grunder always done as you’ve asked?” Grunder grovels as their cowl drops to reveal their disfigured face and sickly yellow eyes. “Grunder only wants to please you, Master Luvoa. For Master Luvoa revealed to Grunder the mysteries of Magi...”

Luvoa moves in on Grunder with a dominate step, “Quit your grovelling!” he growls, his black eyes shining fiercely in the moonlight. “I detest your snivelling voice! I only allow you to work the tiniest of Magics; enough to do my bidding. Otherwise, I would crush you like the insect you are!”

Grunder shields themselves from the threatening raised hand of their master, but Luvoa softens slightly and smirks as he pets Grunder’s head.

“But since you have done as I have asked,” Luvoa soothes, “there will be no need for that; at the moment. Now, come. Let us look upon what we have done.”

The tall man leads the still wary Grunder over to the edge of the maintain ledge, and they peer down at the sleepy lands below.

Luvoa puts a hand on Grunder’s back and the servant flinches as though anticipating being thrown off the mountain top as Luvoa laughs malevolently at his servant’s terror.

“See, my friend?” he invites as he sweeps his other hand over the lands laying far below. “As the land sleeps we have set in motion events that will give us everything we want; everything I deserve!”

Still with terror in their eyes, Grunder gazes down at the tiny village that lies at the foot of the mountain; nestled between the curving river and the snow-tipped trees of the vast forest that stretches into the horizon.

White smoke, barely visible from their high vantage point, puffs out of the chimneys of the thatched roofed cottages as the villagers slumber peacefully in their beds.

It had seemed only a small thing Grunder had done, it had changed nothing that they could see.

“But Grunder doesn’t understand, master.” they stammer timidly. “We only gave that young one a simple dream, how can...”

“Shh.” Luvoa puts his long, slender finger to his tight lips. “Dreams are the most powerful of all Magics. They are the seeds of thoughts. And do you know what thoughts do, my friend?”

Looking up at Luvoa, Grunder shakes their head, dumbfounded.

“Thoughts,” Luvoa continues, “lead to ideas. And ideas lead to actions. And actions lead to the future. And the future leads to me!”

A cracking boom shakes the mountain top and Luvoa looks around with wonder as Grunder cowers.

“You see?” he exclaims in excitedly hushed tones. “It’s happening!”

“What is, Master?” Grunder asks in terror.

Luvoa looks down at Grunder with a terrifyingly gleeful glimmer in his black eyes; sharp, pointed teeth showing as his lips pull back into a wide, malicious smile.

“Why, the Beginning, of course!”

The End