《The Great and Powerful Wizard of the Forest》 Chapter 1 Gwendolyn stared in dismay at the trees that surrounded her. She¡¯d been on the run for three days now, and she was almost out of the food she had packed in the small bag which was the only thing she¡¯d had on hand when she¡¯d decided to leave home. Her husband had always told her that if she tried to leave him, she would end up hungry and penniless. He¡¯d said it with a smirk, knowing that she would never be able to survive without him. That no matter how terribly he treated her, she was dependent on him for a roof over her head and food in her belly. Knowing that, he¡¯d been able to push the limit of what she would put up with. The worst part about it all was that he¡¯d been right, too. She had objected in the beginning, when his kindness fouled into rude demands. As he broke her down though, it became the new normal for him to yell at her when dinner wasn¡¯t cooked to his liking, or to throw things when he¡¯d had a rough day at work and needed someone powerless to take it out on. She¡¯d born all that with a brittle smile, far longer than she should have. But the final straw was when she found him with the milkmaid. The poor girl had come by to deliver their milk for the week, and Damien had followed her out. Gwendolyn hesitated only a moment before following as well. She had little more than a sick feeling in her gut to go on, but it was enough to compel her to leave the house. She touched the bruise on her cheek. Part of the punishment she had received for spoiling his fun. Whatever happened now, whether she was able to find her way out of the forest or not, it was better than continuing the life she¡¯d had. Every step away from the house felt like a reclamation of her dignity, and if she died now, at least she died free. Her belly rumbled with hunger. She dug through the bag and pulled out a hunk of bread. It was hard and stale now, a far cry from the fresh loaf she¡¯d started with, but her standards for sustenance had faded. She chewed it slowly, doing her best to trick her body into believing it was more food than it was. If she¡¯d prepared longer, she might have studied the local foliage and learned what sort of things were edible. She could be foraging right now instead of eating solely into her dwindling supplies. Gwendolyn straightened her back. But if she¡¯d waited, she may never have left. There was an endless amount of preparation that she could have done, and if she¡¯d gone down that rabbit hole, the preparation itself would have been comforting enough to hold her there for longer. She was here. And she would do everything in her power to stay alive. She just had to keep moving, and she was bound to find something, a town or a traveler or something. Somehow, she would survive this. *** Tristan the Great and Powerful Wizard of the Forest sank to the floor with his head in his hands. Another failure. What should have been a simple spell was giving him no end of grief. How hard could it be to wave your wand and have butterflies emerge? Sure, it had never been done before, but that was more likely because nobody had ever tried than because it was any great difficulty. The concept of the spell was simple, no more challenging than sending forth a stream of water or fire or any other element. If all he did was make the illusion of butterflies, the spell was laughably easy. Creating real, living butterflies was another matter entirely, as there was only one way to create life and he didn¡¯t have the equipment for that. But he should be able to find success somewhere in the middle, where the butterflies weren¡¯t exactly alive, but were more tangible than an illusion. They could discorporate after a minute and he would still be satisfied. The trouble was, he could make functional butterflies that were mere illusions, or he could create tangible creatures that were unable to move. ¡°I need to take a break,¡± he grumbled into his hands. ¡°Meow.¡± His cat, Solvent, agreed. He stood up and stretched. As he did, his belly rumbled with hunger. ¡°Hmm,¡± he said, rubbing his stomach. ¡°How long has it been since we ate?¡± ¡°Mrowww.¡± ¡°Too long, then. Let¡¯s go downstairs and make something.¡± The wizard¡¯s workshop was in the highest rooms of his tower. It was something of a safety measure, so if he made a mistake drastic enough to blow out one of the walls it wouldn¡¯t collapse the whole building. But that was such an unlikely event that the real reason was, he thought it probably looked cool from outside the tower, to see bursts of light and magic shining through the windows of the top room as he practiced his magic. That was the sort of thing Tristan thought about, and he took pride in it. Being a Great and Powerful wizard was about more than technical skill and ability, it was also about the pageantry. The whole package. He understood the sort of understated wizards who progressed their skill so far without thought to the appearance of it, but Tristan valued completeness. And a powerful spell without an impressive aesthetic was just incomplete. Not wrong or bad, but incomplete. Which is also why the stairs in his tower ran in a spiral around the edges of the rooms. Some wizards used tight spiral staircases at the center, placed teleport pads on each level, or (gods forbid) ladders, but, well. He had a hard time articulating it, but there was something just more satisfying about the the wide spiral that spanned the entire tower. And the walking kept him in decent shape, which was a very convenient side benefit. Staying in shape was another aspect of completeness, and he very much preferred the passive workout of walking up and down stairs compared to setting up an entire room for the purpose. ¡°Now let¡¯s see,¡± he said to himself and to Solvent. ¡°We have some fish left over from yesterday, how do we feel about that?¡± ¡°Meow.¡± The cat scampered up the wizard¡¯s robes and found purchase on his shoulder. All these tiresome stairs didn¡¯t enter into Solvent¡¯s definition of completeness, and it was far more preferable to let Tristan do all that work for the both of them. Tristan¡¯s kitchen was on the first floor of the tower. All the windows were enchanted to be sealed as far as bugs and weather were concerned, but they allowed for the smell of cooking to pass through. Completeness. And aesthetic. If one were passing outside the tower, the smell of fish and vegetables would give the tower a homey, inviting presence. Not always what he was trying to convey, but there was a time and place for everything. The workshop was for flashy intimidation, but the wizard was a complex man, and he enjoyed his cooking as much as his spellwork. Solvent was particularly fond of the arrangement and settled onto his favorite windowsill perch while Tristan busied himself at the stove. A knock on the door startled them both. It was so soft and hesitant at first that both occupants wondered if they had imagined it, but then it came again, more insistent. Tristan wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and cast a quick stasis spell to make sure the fish didn¡¯t burn while he was preoccupied. When he opened the door, he found a young woman. She wore fine clothes, but they were tattered and dirty, like she had gone camping in them. Even her shoes were fine, more like slippers than anything else, and she was wearing them more through an effort of will than by any effort of the battered shoes themselves. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. It wasn¡¯t lost on him that she was beautiful. Even in disrepair, her dress clung to a body that was toned by a life of hard work, and her long, auburn hair fell across her shoulders in a way that, however disheveled, was most becoming. The Great and Powerful Wizard reigned in his surprise and put on his most hospitable smile. A damsel in distress must never be turned away. That was high up on his list of how a wizard ought to behave. ¡°Yes? What do you want?¡± The woman trembled before him. He was still wearing his workshop robes, after all, and he exuded the presence of a powerful and dangerous spellcaster. She knelt before him. ¡°I smelled your cooking,¡± she stammered. ¡°I am sorry to impose, but I have run out of food of my own, and I wondered if you would be so kind as to help me. I have some money, or I could clean or do the laundry if it suits you.¡± Her eyes were downcast, but the wizard could tell that they were full of hope. It was in her voice, in every inch of her body language. He sighed at the realization that there was only one fish on the stove, but perhaps he could turn it into an opportunity to practice his duplication spell. With that thought, he gestured discreetly behind his back to cast the spell. Solvent was the only witness to the second fish that appeared beside the first. ¡°You may as well come in,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve put too much food on the stove anyway.¡± She entered gratefully and did a slow spin to take in the whole room. The half near the door was the dedicated kitchen, and the other half was the dining room. He occasionally hosted large dinners for the other wizards, so the room boasted an oak table large enough to comfortably seat twelve ¡ªor, uncomfortably, sixteen, as they¡¯d discovered one particularly challenging dinner. ¡°Oh!¡± she gasped. ¡°What a beautiful room.¡± But as she turned back to face him, her shoes betrayed her at last. Scraping against the stone floor was enough to tear the last of the stitching, and she stumbled. Tristan caught her before she hit the ground. Her soft brown eyes met his, and his breath caught for a moment. She was beautiful. That could be a problem. He cleared his throat and set her back on her feet. ¡°We¡¯ll have to do something about your shoes,¡± he said. ¡°Just sit at the table for now, and I¡¯ll bring you the food when it¡¯s done.¡± Gwendolyn crossed the room as directed, still shaking somewhat from her encounter with the wizard. She had removed her shoes to prevent further accidents, and felt shameful as she sat in a tall, expertly carved chair. The cushion alone was finer than anything she had ever personally owned, and she hesitated to sully it with her dirt-stained bottom. She plucked at her sleeve. This had been a nice dress, once. One of her better ones. She had thought it a final act of defiance, to leave in the most expensive clothes Damien had ever purchased for her, knowing as she did that he would be as incensed by the loss of the garment as he was the loss of her. Perhaps even more so. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought. When she first met him, he made her feel like a queen. He lavished money and praise upon her, and she felt loved. But when they were married, she became just another possession to be flaunted in front of others and tossed aside in private. The way the wizard looked at her reminded her of those early days, and that frightened her. He was clearly a powerful spell caster. Though he looked only a few years older than her, she wondered if he had some magic that kept him youthful. There were stories of wizards like that, ancient and powerful creatures who had such command over the universe that they could appear however they chose. Seeing him in person, she could believe the rumor. The robes did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders, and when he caught her as she fell, she had felt the hard muscle of his arms. And his eyes¡­ There was no one color that could describe the man¡¯s eyes. They were a delicate mixture of blue and green and brown, and she felt as though she could look into those eyes forever. Not that she should. That was not why she was here. She¡¯d stumbled upon the tower just as she was about to give up hope entirely, and the smell of the cooking had been enticing enough to overcome her fear of magic. She was just lucky he was willing to feed her, and she would continue on her way as soon as the meal was done. Then, she would do her best to forget the way her heart sped up when he held her. And the feeling of perfect safety she¡¯d felt in his arms. That was not why she was here, and if he so much as suggested any kind of romance she would have to politely decline. Not that he would. Oh, what a mess! A man didn¡¯t live out in the middle of the forest on his own because he was interested in romance, and he especially wouldn¡¯t find interest in the first woman to fall upon his doorstep. Which was a good thing. She pinched herself. The last thing she needed, on the run from her husband, was another man. Tristan plated the fish and vegetables and carried them over to the girl, realizing as he did that he hadn¡¯t thought to ask her name. Perhaps that was for the best, though, as he would have to ask her to leave immediately. Already he found himself wondering if he had any sewing spells, or what it would take to craft a woman¡¯s dress from some of the materials he had upstairs. She presented a distraction, and he could not afford such a thing, not when he was so close to completing his butterfly spell. He was inches away from a breakthrough, he could sense it. ¡°Here you are. Eat slowly, or you¡¯ll have indigestion.¡± He sat across from the woman, rather than at his normal seat at the head of the table. Solvent¡¯s dish, he placed beside his own. ¡°Meow,¡± the cat said smugly, noting the wizard¡¯s choice of seating. ¡°Oh hush,¡± said the wizard, ¡°or I¡¯ll eat your fish myself.¡± The young woman stared at them. ¡°You let your cat sit on the table?¡± Her eyes widened and she clamped her lips shut, as though immediately regretting the question. Tristan frowned in displeasure. Not because of her question, but because of the fear in her eyes. Something had happened to this poor woman to make her fear the consequences of an honest question, and he wasn¡¯t sure if it was her past or his own demeanor. ¡°Solvent is my constant companion,¡± he said. ¡°As such, he always has a seat at my table.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± she murmured. She took a bite of the fish and closed her eyes in rapture at the taste. ¡°Oh, this is so good.¡± Tristan coughed to cover up a smile. ¡°Hunger is the best seasoning,¡± he said, waving away her compliment. But internally, he was dancing. He liked to think he was a good cook, and Solvent certainly didn¡¯t complain, but there was little more satisfying than knowing someone else was enjoying the result of his labor. ¡°I¡¯ll send you off with a basket of rations for the rest of your journey.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. My journey.¡± ¡°Where are you headed?¡± he inquired. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure, actually. What is the nearest village?¡± Was this normal? For someone to journey unprepared, with no destination in mind? The wizard had been out of society for long enough that he wondered, but in case it was impolite he kept the question to himself. There was a reason he kept to himself so much, and it stemmed from his intense discomfort around societal rules. ¡°Greenville is the nearest.¡± ¡°Not there!¡± she said immediately. ¡°That¡¯s where I come from, I mean. Where else? And how do I get there?¡± She speared multiple vegetables on her fork and closed her eyes again at the taste, chewing slowly as he had instructed. ¡°Ah. Then, Blueville is the next town over. You would have to travel southwest for, oh, five days. Is the journey important to you, or would you like for me to teleport you?¡± Her jaw dropped, and Tristan winced. There he went, accidentally causing offense. Social conventions were so weird, and the longer he was away the more he feared he lost touch. ¡°Nevermind,¡± he said quickly. ¡°That would be a bad idea.¡± A sharp banging on the door startled the two of them. The wizard¡¯s instinctual discomfort with visitors warred with his relief to have a reason to exit the conversation, and he rose to his feet. ¡°Excuse me,¡± he said. ¡°It looks like I have more visitors today than I expected.¡± The wizard opened the door and found the point of a sword at his neck. ¡°Return my wife to me this instant, you fiend!¡± shouted the man holding the sword. Tristan leaned back, pretty sure this wasn¡¯t a normal greeting. ¡°What do you want?¡± he said, leaning metaphorically on a greeting he was more sure of. The man snarled. He had the look of a brute, all muscle with no care for his overall aesthetic. ¡°I tracked Gwendolyn here, so you can¡¯t pretend you haven¡¯t seen her. That fool doesn¡¯t know the first thing about traveling through the woods, and she left a more obvious path than a hundred pound boar. Whatever magic you used to draw her here, I demand you release her back to me.¡± Tristan looked back inside the tower at the young woman. She was only barely visible, crouched behind the table and chairs. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± he asked, once again kicking himself for not asking sooner. That was the sort of thing, he now recalled, you were supposed to do at the beginning of a conversation. ¡°Gwendolyn,¡± she called back. ¡°But please don¡¯t make me go with him.¡± The wizard was ignorant of social customs, and sometimes that made him look foolish. But one did not become the Great and Powerful Wizard of the Forest by being an idiot. And suddenly, the situation made a whole lot more sense. The bruise on her cheek. The redness of this man¡¯s knuckles, and the fury that raged in his eyes. The woman¡¯s fear and timidity. He drew himself up in the doorway and put on his most imposing expression. ¡°This woman is under my protection,¡± he said. ¡°And as she has no wish to depart with you, she will not. You may go.¡± The brute brandished his sword once more. ¡°She is my wife, mine! She belongs to me and you have no right to keep her from me.¡± He leaned to the side so he could see past the wizard. ¡°Gwendolyn! I know you¡¯re in there, and I¡¯ll get you back. Even if you go to Blueville, or Purpleville, or even so far as Yellowville, I swear it on my sword that I will find you.¡± The young woman whimpered, and that was enough for Tristan. He slammed the door shut on the angry young man. Immediately they heard vicious pounding on the door, but the wizard knew that he had enchanted the door well enough during its construction that nothing would damage it. Still, the noise was irritating so he cast a silencing spell around it with a twitch of his fingers. ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°perhaps Blueville is not such a good idea for you.¡± Chapter 2 The wizard returned to his meal. The fish was perhaps a bit overdone, but he was finally happy with the amount of lemon. The secret was not just to drizzle lemon juice, but also to leave a slice or two in the pan while it cooked. Gwendolyn opened her mouth as if to speak several times, but seemed to lose her nerve and took a bite of food instead. Tristan wondered at that, but didn¡¯t want to press her. The poor woman looked like she¡¯d been through enough trouble as it was, without needing any more from him. So they finished their meal in silence, comfortably on his end and nervously on hers. ¡°What is your name?¡± she finally asked, when her plate was cleared. ¡°Tristan the Great and Powerful Wizard of the Forest,¡± he said, a little embarrassed that he hadn¡¯t said that already. In his defense, his guests normally already knew who he was. ¡°Since I can¡¯t safely s\\\\end you to Blueville,¡± he said, changing the subject, ¡°or even as far as Yellowville, is there anywhere else you¡¯d like to go?¡± ¡°I fear it¡¯s hopeless,¡± she said, her eyes welling with tears. She touched the yellow and purple spot on her cheek. ¡°Maybe I should just go back with him. It wasn¡¯t the worst life. He did provide me with a roof over my head, and I was never hungry. There is nowhere I could go to be safe from him, I think.¡± Tristan was a little offended by that. ¡°My tower is completely safe,¡± he countered. ¡°And I can¡¯t imagine you would be happy going back to a life you were obviously so desperate to leave behind.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± she said softly. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t want to impose.¡± ¡°It would hardly be an imposition,¡± the wizard lied. He ignored Solvent¡¯s pointed look. There was no denying that having the woman around would be incredibly distracting to his work. It was a particularly bad idea since the next Gathering was in only a week, and he had hoped to showcase his butterfly spell by then. But she needed the help, and once he showed her around and got her settled into one of the spare rooms, she would surely be able to take care of herself. A small part of him wondered if she would be interested in his work, but he clamped down on that thought. He didn¡¯t have the best history with women, and if this particular woman showed any interest in him it would only be because of what he was providing for her in the way of housing and protection. Better not to put her in the position of thinking he wanted that from her. ¡°Come,¡± he said, ¡°I¡¯ll take you to your room.¡± Gwendolyn followed the wizard up the long, winding staircase and wondered if she had just made a horrible mistake. Damien was awful, but at least she knew how to handle him. Over the years she had learned to read his moods and understood when she could talk him down, and when she just had to ride out the anger. This wizard, on the other hand, was a complete unknown. She had been too hungry to think straight when she approached his tower, and now she realized that she had no idea what this man was like. He had shut down Damien with just a few words! He hadn¡¯t had the slightest bit of fear when faced with the sword, and she knew that her husband was well-known for his ability with the sword. How powerful, how dangerous, was this man who didn¡¯t even flinch? Not to mention he wasn¡¯t just any wizard, but a Great and Powerful one. If there was anything he wanted from her, she would be powerless to object. She shivered at the thought and wrapped her arms around her chest, suddenly self conscious about the state of her dress. ¡°Here we are,¡± the wizard said, and opened the door to the most beautifully decorated room she had ever seen. It was sparse, in that all it contained was a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk, but each was made of deep mahogany with brass handles and accents. ¡°Thank you,¡± Gwendolyn murmured. ¡°I don¡¯t have any women¡¯s clothes,¡± he said, ¡°but for now you can wear the robes in the wardrobe.¡± He frowned. ¡°Hold on, that won¡¯t do. It¡¯s against the Rules for a non-wizard to wear wizard robes.¡± This was it, Gwendolyn despaired. He would claim to have nothing suitable to wear, and she would have to wear her dress in tatters or nothing at all. That would be the price of his hospitality. The wizard waved his hands, and the wardrobe doors sprang open. Inside were ten blue and purple robes of soft cloth. With a snap of his fingers, three emerged from the wardrobe and floated in the air. He glanced over at Gwendolyn and tilted his head, considering. She bit her lip, bracing herself. He muttered an incantation, and the robes shrunk. He waved one over and held it up to her, and nodded when he saw that it was a reasonable match to her size. With another wave of his hand, the robes lost their intricate embroidery and changed to a deep goldenrod color. ¡°Here,¡± he said. ¡°Only wear these, the others are for wizards.¡± The robes fell neatly into her arms, and she stood there, beside the bed, with a shocked look on her face. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, ¡°Thank you so much.¡± Tristan scratched his neck awkwardly. ¡°Yes, well, you can¡¯t keep wearing that dress. You¡¯re getting dirt on everything.¡± ¡°Is¡­ there anything else?¡± she asked. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Unless there¡¯s something else you need?¡± He looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. Gwendolyn¡¯s gaze softened, and at last the tension left her shoulders. Here was a man so good that he didn¡¯t even understand the weight of his actions. This hospitality didn¡¯t come with a price, it was just something he thought of as basic decency. ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s nothing else I need.¡± *** The next couple of days passed cautiously. Gwendolyn mostly stayed in her room so as not to be a bother, and she got used to Solvent showing up at her door to summon her to meals. Breakfast was always a quiet affair, but during lunch and dinner she learned that the wizard was surprisingly easy to talk to, although the topics he wanted to discuss were unusual. She still jumped every time she thought she heard Damien at the door, but it was only ever the wind. Gradually, she began to settle in and feel safer in the wizard¡¯s tower. She left her room more and more on her own, and as she did she realized that although the building was furnished very well, it was all quite¡­ dusty. ¡°What are you doing?¡± She startled at the wizard¡¯s voice. ¡°I was just. Cleaning up a bit. There¡¯s quite a bit of dust, you see, and Solvent showed me where to find the sweep.¡± This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not angry with you.¡± He¡¯d come to recognize the whole-body flinch that meant she was bracing herself for some sort of punishment. It pained him to see it, so he learned the sort of words, like a spell in themselves, that eased the tension out of her body and put her at ease. Her breathing slowed to a normal rate, and she raised her eyes. ¡°I also saw, in the closets, that you have a number of paintings and beautiful artifacts. If you¡¯d like, I could hang those up around the common rooms.¡± The wizard blinked. That was a chore he¡¯d been meaning to get around to ever since he moved into the tower, some fifteen years prior. Only there always seemed something more pressing at hand, and he was never quite certain what should go where, so he¡¯d continued to put it off. ¡°That would be lovely,¡± he said. She nodded and set to it immediately, not waiting to see if he had more to say. She, too, had gotten used to his mannerisms, and knew that if she stood there waiting, he would stand waiting for her, and the silence would stretch painfully on until she finally released them both. When she returned with two paintings she had already decided would be perfect for the dining room, the wizard was still standing in the same place, a thoughtful look on his face. ¡°Would you ever want to travel to another world?¡± he asked her. When she first arrived, that sort of question would have sent her into a confused spiral, embarrassed by her own ignorance, but she¡¯d learned to take his odd questions in stride. She could make up just about any sort of answer, so long as it maintained an internal logic. It was quite fun, she¡¯d found, because in conversations like that it was more important to be reasonable than knowledgeable. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± she answered truthfully. ¡°Are you thinking of a parallel world, or a completely different one?¡± ¡°Either would do, I suppose, with some obvious limitations on the different one. Let¡¯s call it parallel for simplicity.¡± Gwendolyn hammered a nail into the wall as she thought. ¡°If it was really parallel, I don¡¯t think it would make much difference,¡± she said. ¡°Everything would be similar enough I might not notice, especially anywhere outside Greenville.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good point,¡± the wizard said. He took a seat at the head of the table and rested his chin in his hand. ¡°Entering a parallel world would only matter to a creature experienced enough to recognize its differences. Hmm. How about a different world, then? Something similar enough that you could survive, but with, say, a completely different set of people in it.¡± Gwendolyn shrugged briefly as she lifted the picture onto the nail. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t make much difference to me, again. I already have nothing, and a world without Damien might be a better one. I think I¡¯d miss you, though.¡± The woman squeaked and slapped a hand over her mouth. Tristan went still. There was a long moment of silence between them, with neither of them looking at the other. Finally, the wizard rose to his feet. ¡°Very helpful, Gwendolyn, thank you. And the picture looks nice.¡± He spun on his heel and practically ran up the stairs. Gwendolyn grimaced at Solvent. ¡°Did I say too much?¡± The cat¡¯s ears twitched. ¡°Meow.¡± *** Tristan sat at his workbench, staring blankly at pictures of butterflies. ¡°I¡¯d miss you,¡± she¡¯d said. How long had it been since someone cared enough about him to miss him? Had anyone ever cared that much? He was respected among the other wizards, of course, but that wasn¡¯t the same thing. He¡¯d run away to the forest as a young man because he never felt as though he fit in in the city, and he doubted anyone noticed he¡¯d gone. Magic was the only thing that ever made sense. People¡­ were complicated. But Gwendolyn¡­ She was different. She was easy to talk to in a way that nobody else ever had been, unless they were as interested in the subject of magic as he was. And even then, he found himself talking over the heads of his peers. Gwendolyn never made him feel like that. When they spoke, even if she didn¡¯t understand the material, she understood him. Take the butterflies, for example. He could open up a portal to another world and pull the butterflies into this one. Shrink the portal to the tip of the wand, and it would appear as though they were being created by the spell. It was a bit of a sideways tactic to get the result he wanted, and that fact alone was enough to displease him, but he had also wondered if there was an ethical dilemma involved in the action. Gwendolyn, in her calm and thoughtful way, put his mind at ease. A butterfly wouldn¡¯t recognize this world as any different from its own. A parallel world was already a better option than another sort of world simply for the logistics of finding the right sort of butterfly, and now better still because the butterfly wouldn¡¯t be confused. Well, any more confused than if he was teleporting them from one part of the world to the next. Which¡­ was an option, now that he thought of it, but he liked it even less than his current plan. He wondered if butterflies had the capacity to miss each other. Were their brains big enough to understand the concept? Or rather, their hearts? Now that was a question he may never know the answer to. And perhaps it was not worth the risk. If there was even the slightest possibility of breaking the hearts of butterflies, he should find another way. ¡°What are we going to do, Solvent, if we can¡¯t import them?¡± When there was no answering meow, Tristan looked around. The cat wasn¡¯t in the workshop! Then he remembered seeing Solvent at Gwendolyn¡¯s feet, watching as she cleaned and decorated the lower rooms. Of course. The cat was as entranced as he was by the woman. *** That evening, as Gwendolyn cleared the plates, Tristan followed her to the kitchen. ¡°I was wondering,¡± he said, ¡°if you¡¯d like to join me for a glass of wine this evening?¡± Gwendolyn smiled back at him. ¡°Yes, of course.¡± Part of her wondered if this was it, the moment she¡¯d feared when she first arrived. Another part hoped it was. The wizard nodded and disappeared. He returned just as she finished rinsing the dishes, two glasses and a bottle of wine in hand. ¡°Come upstairs with me, I¡¯d like to show you the study.¡± She followed him up, her heart racing with nervous anticipation. He took her one floor higher than her own room, to a space that was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. Two armchairs were placed in front of a large fireplace, with a small table between them. He took a seat, gestured for her to take the other, and poured the glasses. ¡°This is a port wine, so sip carefully.¡± Gwendolyn took the barest of sips and gasped. ¡°What is this?¡± she exclaimed. Tristan smiled. ¡°A friend of mine makes this particular blend. Port is already considered a dessert wine, but this adds a chocolate overtone.¡± ¡°It¡¯s so good,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you for sharing this with me.¡± If not for his warning, she could have drank the entire glass in one gulp. It reminded her of a chocolate covered raisin, which she had gotten to try once as a young girl. ¡°I¡¯m glad to.¡± He took a larger sip, enjoying the taste but also wanting to brace himself for what he wanted to say. ¡°Talking with you really helped me today. I just wanted to tell you that¡ª If you would like to stay¡ª You are welcome to live here as long as you like.¡± He couldn¡¯t meet her eyes, afraid of how she would react. She reached a hand out to cover his. ¡°I would like to stay. Very much. You¡¯re a good man, and if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned about you it¡¯s that while you may not be very good at talking to people, you do care about them very deeply. You didn¡¯t have to tell me it was your friend who made this wine,¡± she elaborated. ¡°But you knew I would enjoy it and wanted to make sure he got the credit.¡± The wizard scratched his neck in the way he did when he was feeling awkward. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to realize that you notice some things about me that it doesn¡¯t occur to me to notice in myself.¡± She gazed back at him, admiring the sharp line of his jaw. ¡°I enjoy paying attention to you.¡± He looked back at her in wonder, his eyes searching hers for the slightest hint of deceit and finding none. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I¡¯ve ever heard that before,¡± he said. ¡°But I enjoy hearing it from you.¡± His fingers curled around hers and they sat that way for a long moment, just enjoying each other¡¯s company and the warmth of that touch. ¡°Do you think you would notice if you had a clone, somewhere else in the world?¡± the wizard asked. ¡°Not if we never met,¡± said Gwendolyn. ¡°But I don¡¯t think I would like that very much.¡± And with that simple question, they fell back into the sort of conversation that had become comfortable for them. Hypothetical questions and well reasoned responses, the sort of back and forth that stretches the mind in ways that are impossible, alone. And as they did, Gwendolyn realized she would like to stay with the wizard. It had been easy to say, harder to feel, but here was a man who valued her company and her mind, who saw her for herself. She never would have thought she had anything of value to say to a Great and Powerful wizard, yet he made her feel like she did. He carefully considered the things she had to say, and if he cared overmuch for her beauty, he did not show it. That was not the basis of their relationship. As for the wizard, he fell back on magical hypotheses as a way of calming his nerves. This woman who had stumbled into his life was beautiful and intelligent, and she helped him to think about his experiments in ways that felt brand new. It was all well and good to talk to himself or to Solvent or to any of the other wizards who visited, but her perspective was unlike any of the wizards he had ever known. It had taken every effort of will just to invite her to stay longer, and he was still trembling with the anxiety of it. The worry that in asking, he would push her away. But her hand was warm on his, and that made all the difference. Chapter 3 The next day, Tristan dragged himself up the stairs to his workshop with a steaming mug of coffee in hand. The late night hadn¡¯t done him any favors, however enjoyable it had been, and there were only two days left before the Gathering. He¡¯d finally disregarded the idea of transporting butterflies into the end of the wand, be it from this world or another. It smacked too much of trickery for his liking, and it would disrupt the butterfly lives too much. Cloning was a better possibility, and he could tie the wand to a known population, so instead of a creation spell it was a cloning spell, but that posed a similar problem. The clones would be confused and frightened by their sudden appearance in a strange place, and he had already decided that he wanted to cause minimal distress. He rubbed his forehead. He was glad of Gwendolyn¡¯s perspective, but he could not ignore the frustration of having every idea shot down for one reason or another. They were good reasons, so he could not fault her, but before she arrived he¡¯d felt he was right on the cusp of finishing the spell, and now he felt further behind than ever. He picked up the wand and spun it between his fingers. Not that she had done anything wrong, but she was every bit the distraction he¡¯d feared. He found himself more interested in discussing magical theory with her than actual application, and he could not deny that was setting him back. A soft knock at the door startled him out of his reverie, and a bolt of light shot from the wand. The door creaked and broke in two. Gwendolyn stood with a tray of scrambled eggs and apple slices, eyes wide and frightened. ¡°I didn¡¯t see you at breakfast,¡± she said. The wizard pursed his lips. This was too much. His entire tower was once a safe haven of isolation, with no interruptions and no distractions. ¡°Get out,¡± he snapped. ¡°If I wanted breakfast, I would have been there.¡± The woman fled, and he immediately regretted his outburst. But he did not follow her. It was for the best, he thought. After all, she wasn¡¯t interested in him, not really. Any affection she had for him was simply gratitude for the way he had rescued her from her prior situation. It was foolish for him to read more into it than that, and it would be better for them both if he didn¡¯t take advantage of it. The wizard sighed and deactivated the spell on the wand. Better to focus on the task at hand. If he couldn¡¯t teleport the butterflies or clone existing ones, he was back at creation. But it was impossible to create life with magic. He rubbed his temples. Back to square one, with only two days remaining. *** Gwendolyn only made it down two flights of stairs before she had to stop and rest. These damned stairs. That damned man! She¡¯d known he was too good to be true, and she should have trusted her instincts. She brought her knees to her chest and let the tears fall. No sooner had she agreed to stay with him than the mask dropped, and now she saw the temper that lurked just beneath the surface. He was just like Damien. The longer she stayed with him, the more comfortable she became, the more easily he would slide into a rage. Only it would be worse with the wizard, because he was so much more deadly. The man had cracked a thick wooden door in two with just a flick of his wand. And how was she to know he didn¡¯t want breakfast! When she missed him at the table, she had thought perhaps he was in too much of a rush to sit down. She took a bite of an apple slice to calm her nerves. It didn¡¯t help, but she took another bite anyway. Oh, what was she going to do? If she left, she would have Damien to worry about. But if she stayed, she feared the wizard. ¡°Mrow.¡± Solvent rested his face and front paws on her thigh. Gwendolyn stroked his soft fur. ¡°Quite right,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll just pick myself up and keep going, like I always do.¡± She took the rest of the stairs slowly as she planned the rest of her morning. She was allowed in the study now, and she had noticed it could use some dusting. A few areas, probably his favorite books, were spotless, but the majority of the room was covered in a layer of dust. And there were a few more paintings she wanted to hang in the guest rooms. That should be enough to take her through to lunch. She was still in the study when he found her. She froze at the sight of him, but unlike their previous encounters she did not help him begin the conversation. Instead she watched him, saw the turning of his mind as he searched for the words. ¡°I want to apologize,¡± he finally said. ¡°You startled me this morning, and I fired the wand by accident. That¡¯s no excuse for how I spoke to you, but I just. The thought of hurting you by mistake¡­¡± He waved his hands hopelessly. ¡°Can you forgive me?¡± It wasn¡¯t so much his words as it was the look in his eyes that melted Gwendolyn¡¯s heart. She crossed the room to him and took his hands in hers. ¡°Forgiving you is as easy as breathing,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll stay away from your workshop in the future.¡± ¡°No, no. You don¡¯t need to change your behavior, I am the one who was wrong. In fact,¡± he brightened, ¡°come with me now. I¡¯d like to show you what I¡¯m working on, and maybe you can help me.¡± The woman blushed. ¡°I don¡¯t know that I could be any help to you, but I¡¯m certainly willing to try.¡± As they walked upstairs, he explained the butterfly dilemma. He wanted a spell to generate butterflies from the tip of the wand. While teleporting and cloning were viable options, they felt like cheating, like sidestepping the issue he was actually trying to solve. But neither could he create life, particularly butterfly life, not being a butterfly himself. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Gwendolyn walked around his workshop, gliding her fingers along the tabletops. The place was a wonder, all test tubes and magical tomes. Never in her life would she have imagined being in such a room. It was a physical representation of a beautiful mind, somewhat scattered but filled to bursting with innovation and experiments. Tristan watched her with bated breath. Not many people had seen the inside of his workshop, and he found a strange vulnerability in it. He found himself looking around with fresh eyes and imagined what she must think of him, seeing this place for the first time. Would she think him a madman or a genius? Or something else entirely? ¡°You said you can clone a butterfly?¡± ¡°Yes, easily.¡± ¡°Show me.¡± ¡°Oh! Well, okay.¡± He pulled a small wire cage up from under the table. One muttered incantation later, a bright orange butterfly was fluttering around inside. ¡°I¡¯ve just teleported this fellow from a little bit east of Purpleville. Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll send him back as soon as this is over.¡± He twisted his hands in a well-rehearsed pattern and a second butterfly popped into existence. ¡°And here we have the clone.¡± Gwendolyn gaped. ¡°That¡¯s incredible.¡± Tristan blushed. ¡°It¡¯s not the goal, though. The clone is just a copy, a perfect imitation. But it is not a new thing.¡± Gwendolyn frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Since you can create a clone, does that mean you know how a butterfly is built?¡± ¡°Hmm. That¡¯s a funny way of saying it, but yes I suppose I do.¡± ¡°Then¡­¡± She hesitated, worried that her next thought was too obvious for him to have missed it. She went for it anyway. ¡°If you know how they¡¯re built, just build your own.¡± The wizard considered that. ¡°I could do that. But then we run into the same ethical dilemmas of introducing a butterfly rather suddenly to a strange world.¡± ¡°That¡¯s easy, just take out the pieces that would notice. And this spell is mostly supposed to be a sort of party trick, right? So take out the parts that make it any more alive than, say, a wagon. And also introduce an expiration, so the butterflies don¡¯t just flit around endlessly.¡± ¡°Brilliant! Yes, of course I could do that!¡± The wizard became a flurry of motion, scribbling down notes and crossing things out. Gwendolyn watched him with a smile. He lit up completely when he was passionate about his spells, and she felt she could watch him work forever. ¡°And, let¡¯s try it out!¡± He lifted his wand with a hesitant smile, pointed it, and cast the spell. Butterflies of every color emerged from the tip of the wand, tiny at first and quickly growing as they flew away until they were full size. A minute later, they each dissolved in a burst of colored light, and then were gone. ¡°We¡¯ve done it!¡± The wizard picked her up in a full body hug and spun her around. She kicked her feet up, giggling. When he set her down, Gwendolyn was just as flushed as he was. ¡°What a beautiful spell,¡± she said breathlessly. He ran a hand through his hair, laughing. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you solved it. Amazing! And to think, I was so worried you would be a distraction to my work. Only to find you are exactly what I needed!¡± Gwendolyn took a step back. ¡°What do you mean, a distraction?¡± The wizard was too flush with success to notice the sudden shift in her tone. ¡°Well, you¡¯re beautiful of course, and lovely to talk to. Ever since you came to my tower I have spent far too much time conversing and not enough working.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I was such a bother,¡± she said coldly. ¡°Well I realize it¡¯s not something you do on purpose,¡± he continued, blind to the damage he was causing. Mercifully, at that moment the sound of a bell chime cut him off. The wizard placed two fingers on his throat and said, ¡°Yes, do come in.¡± A portal opened up on the other side of the workbench, and a second wizard stepped through. He wore thick green robes with a gold crest emblazoned on the chest. His left eyebrow quirked up when he saw Gwendolyn in the room. ¡°You¡¯ve got yourself a woman,¡± he exclaimed. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see the day.¡± ¡°Gwendolyn, this is my good friend Xavier. We went to school together.¡± ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it. As I recall, you were the youngest student to ever join the academy, and you carried me through all our practical exams.¡± Xavier turned his attention back to Gwendolyn. ¡°My dear, you are a vision. I can see why he likes you but please, what are you doing with him? Whatever he¡¯s promised you, I¡¯ll double it if you run away with me.¡± Gwendolyn¡¯s icy demeanor boiled over into rage. ¡°I can see now that staying here was a mistake. I have been a bother, a distraction, and now I am reduced to some sort of decoration,¡± she spat. ¡°I will trouble you no more.¡± She spun on her heel and fled down the stairs. Only when she was out of sight did she allow the angry tears to fall. ¡°What¡ª? Xavier, what have you done?¡± The other wizard¡¯s shock turned to chagrin. ¡°Apologies, my friend. That was thoughtless of me to say.¡± ¡°What do I do?¡± The brilliant wizard was panicking. ¡°Go after her,¡± his friend said kindly. ¡°Reassure her of your intentions, whatever they may be.¡± ¡°Right. Yes. Of course.¡± Tristan fled down the stairs, his thoughts entirely on Gwendolyn. What had he been thinking, calling her a bother and a distraction? No wonder she felt like a nuisance! But that was the last thing in the world that he meant by it, and he¡¯d found that he quite liked being distracted. His schoolmates always told him it wasn¡¯t healthy to be focused on work all day long, but he had never before found something ¡ªor in this case, someone¡ª he cared about more than magic. And he did, he realized. He cared about Gwendolyn more than magic. *** Tristan found her in her room, roughly shoving her belongings back into the scratched up bag she¡¯d arrived with. ¡°Gwendolyn, wait,¡± he said. She turned red-rimmed eyes to him. ¡°For what, Tristan? For you to finally show yourself? I think I see now, from the way you attacked me this morning to the way you showed me off to your friend. I¡¯m just another trinket to you, another painting for you to shove into a closet and forget about.¡± She wiped away her tears. ¡°Well, I won¡¯t do it! I¡¯d like to think I can learn from my mistakes, and this is me learning.¡± ¡°It¡ª It¡¯s not safe for you out there!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances.¡± Suddenly, both of them turned to the door as a loud pounding echoed through the tower. Out the window they could see a crowd of villagers with Damien at the head, all of them carrying torches and pitchforks. Gwendolyn stuck her head out the window. ¡°Leave me ALONE, Damien!¡± she shouted. ¡°My darling wife!¡± the brute shouted. ¡°Your mind has been twisted by the dark wizard in the tower.¡± He turned to the crowd that followed him. ¡°You see what he has done? He has stolen my sweet Gwendolyn from me! Die, wizard, die!¡± ¡°DIE, WIZARD, DIE!¡± shouted the crowd. Gwendolyn hesitated, frightened by the vitriol of the crowd. ¡°You see,¡± said Tristan. ¡°With him at the door, you reconsider your place here. You want to talk about finally showing yourself? All of your affection for me was only gratitude. You were happy to have a space free of your wretched husband. A roof over your head and a full belly, isn¡¯t that all you said you needed?¡± He shook his head. ¡°I am the foolish one, for thinking you cared for me.¡± Gwendolyn glared at him with renewed fury. ¡°If you believe that, then I really should go. You are a powerful wizard, and I know even this crowd of angry villagers is little more than an annoyance to you. But to someone like me, they could be a death sentence.¡± She drew herself up to her full height. ¡°Send me away, then. Teleport me as far as you can, and that will be the last I prevail upon your generosity.¡± The wizard looked at her for a moment that felt like eternity, in which his heart broke for the first time since he had hidden himself away in the forest fifteen years ago. ¡°Begone, then.¡± He waved his hands, and the woman disappeared. Xavier burst through the door, where he had been listening in. ¡°You absolute buffoon!¡± he cried. ¡°Whatever did you go and do that for?¡± Chapter 4 For a moment, Gwendolyn hung in a void. There was no ground beneath her, no sky, no walls or ceiling. Such an intense sort of nothingness that she wasn¡¯t even falling. No air rushing past her face. But it was only a moment, and then she was standing outside the gates of a city far bigger than her home village of Greenville. He¡¯d done it, he¡¯d sent her away. Just like she¡¯d asked. He was no Damien, who pretended to acquiesce only to buy time to change her mind. She crumpled to the ground. What had she done? The final look he¡¯d given her was of such abject heartbreak that she knew he was innocent of the crimes she had imagined for him. From the moment they met, she¡¯d compared him to Damien. It was only a matter of time, really, before he did something similar enough for her to latch onto and lash out. Why had she done that? Why had she held Tristan accountable for another man¡¯s crimes? It wasn¡¯t Tristan she was mad at, not really. He had only ever cared for her without asking anything in return, and the one time he wronged her, he apologized sincerely. She thought of the hours they¡¯d spent at the dinner table on her second night, just talking about the possibility of parallel worlds, and the potential for variance between them. He opened her mind to entirely new things, and she found she enjoyed the mental exercise. Who else would ever see her with such lack of prejudice, to bring her into conversations like that? Just as she was beginning to well and truly despair, she heard a slight pop and the other wizard, Xavier, appeared beside her. ¡°Well, look at you sad sack,¡± he said. ¡°I thought you got everything you wanted?¡± Gwendolyn turned her tear-stained face up to him. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve been a fool, Xavier. I should never have yelled at him, I¡ª I¡ª¡± she hiccuped. ¡°I love him.¡± The wizard crouched beside her. ¡°Do you?¡± His voice cracked like a whip. ¡°I¡¯ve known Tristan a very long time, you know, and he¡¯s not so good with people. He¡¯s naive, even now, because his own goodness blinds him to the faults of others.¡± ¡°I know,¡± she cried. ¡°I was just so afraid he would turn out to be like my husband, and I, I was so afraid that I only saw what my fear showed me.¡± ¡°He doesn¡¯t open himself up easily,¡± the wizard mused. ¡°Yet somehow, with you, it only took a few days for him to fall flat on his face.¡± Through the tears, Gwendolyn smiled. ¡°We talked of the most wonderful things, you know. He asked me just the other day how I would feel if I was cloned, and we spent two hours discussing the ramifications of it.¡± Xavier let out a low whistle. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to see what he likes about you. Not many could hold their own with Tristan on a topic like that.¡± Gwendolyn¡¯s smile turned once more into a sob. ¡°That¡¯s one of the things I¡¯ll miss most about him.¡± Xavier sighed. ¡°You¡¯re both fools. Just go tell him you¡¯re sorry. That idiot will take you back in a heartbeat.¡± ¡°You think so?¡± She looked up at him with such hope that Xavier felt his own heart start to break. He rolled his eyes. ¡°Obviously.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Gwendolyn rose to her feet and dusted off her clothes. She was still wearing the shrunken robes that Tristan had made for her on the first day. They were more comfortable than anything she had ever worn before, and she knew she could never find anything else as fine. ¡°How will I get back? I don¡¯t even know where he¡¯s sent me.¡± Xavier passed a hand over his face. ¡°For such an intelligent woman, you sure do miss the obvious. Oh!¡± He smacked his forehead. ¡°I¡¯ve just realized why you and Tristan are so perfect for each other.¡± Gwendolyn¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What have I missed?¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Well, I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡± Xavier gestured at himself. ¡°Do you think I asked Tristan to send me somewhere far away and unknown, or do you think I sent myself here to clean up your mess?¡± Gwendolyn gasped. ¡°You can take me back to his tower!¡± ¡°We-ell, yes and no. Tristan has wards in his tower, so I can only pop inside if I ring the doorbell first, and he¡¯s not answering at the moment. But I could drop you off outside easy enough.¡± Gwendolyn paled. ¡°Outside the tower.¡± ¡°Yep, that¡¯s right. Outside the tower.¡± ¡°Where the mob is.¡± ¡°Oh, riiight, the mob. Gosh, if only you could do something about that.¡± Steel returned to his gaze as he gave her a hard look. She blinked. ¡°Me? What can I do?¡± ¡°Have they not gathered on your behalf? Are they not chanting your name as they batter the walls of my best friend¡¯s home?¡± Gwendolyn reeled. The wizard was right. It was her fault the villagers were pounding on his door. If she¡¯d had the backbone to tell Damien off properly before, Tristan might not even be suffering this indignity. It was worse now, and that made it all the more her responsibility to fix it. She nodded resolutely. ¡°Quite right,¡± she said. ¡°Please, wizard, teleport me back to Tristan¡¯s tower.¡± Xavier smirked. With a wave of his hands, he sent her back through the void, to the space outside Tristan¡¯s tower. He¡¯d always felt somewhat indebted to Tristan since their time at the academy. Without the younger wizard¡¯s tutelage, Xavier never would have graduated. Tristan always insisted that Xavier more than made up for it by being his one and only friend, but that never sat right with him. He dusted his hands off, feeling immensely pleased with himself. This definitely evened the scales a bit, assuming the girl meant everything she said. And he¡¯d been using a truth spell on her just to be sure. He¡¯d go back home for now, and leave it until the Gathering to bring it back up. Grinning widely, the wizard disappeared. *** Gwendolyn popped into place just behind the mob. Conveniently, Xavier had thought to put her on top of a wooden pedestal so she towered over the crowd. ¡°Hey!¡± she shouted. ¡°Knock it off!¡± The villagers hesitated and turned around to face her. ¡°Gwendolyn! You¡¯re free!¡± Damien rushed to her feet and turned to the crowd. ¡°We did it, men! See what we can do when we band together!¡± A great cheer rose up. Gwendolyn stomped her foot. ¡°Shut up and listen to me!¡± she yelled. ¡°I¡¯m not going back with you. I¡¯m not every going back with him!¡± She pointed at Damien. He looked at her with familiar rage before turning a more innocent face to the crowd. ¡°Her mind must still be addled by the wizard,¡± he loudly mused. Gwendolyn¡¯s blood boiled. ¡°After my marriage, how many of you saw me with bruises on my cheeks or around my eyes? On my arms? How many of you did nothing?!¡± The villagers shuffled their feet, many of them unable to meet her gaze. ¡°I finally freed myself. I stumbled through the forest for three days without enough food or water to keep me alive, and if you drag me back to live with Damien, I¡¯ll do it again!¡± Her heart was racing and her breath heavy, but as she shouted at the neighbors who let her down over and over again, she felt a release of pent up emotion. ¡°Any one of you could have taken me in when I needed it and protected me from that monster. But you didn¡¯t. The wizard did. Begone, then, and never disturb us again.¡± ¡°Now hold on just a minute.¡± Damien objected. ¡°No, the girl¡¯s right,¡± said the blacksmith. ¡°We all should have helped her a long time ago. You never did treat her right.¡± A low murmur of agreement coursed through the crowd, and Damien realized he¡¯d lost them. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± the man said, his hands raised peaceably above his head. ¡°We¡¯ll leave her be. The wizard¡¯s won this round.¡± He shot her a venomous look but backed away. Not until the entire crowd dispersed did she release the breath she was holding. She was free. Completely free. Damien wouldn¡¯t be coming after her any more, and the villagers finally realized that she was better off without him as well. If they truly learned their lesson, they would never let him remarry, and keep their girls away from him to boot. She stumbled to the tower and knocked on the door. ¡°I know you can hear me in there,¡± she said. ¡°And I understand perfectly if you don¡¯t want to let me in. But I had to tell you. I love you. And I would like to stay with you, even now, with nobody coming after me.¡± There was no answer. She waited as long as she could with hope in her heart. Just as she was about to turn away, the door swung open. ¡°I suppose you ought to come inside.¡± Gwendolyn barreled forward, closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around the wizard. He hesitated for a moment, then returned the embrace. ¡°You were gone¡­ far too long,¡± he said. She nodded into his shoulder. ¡°Never send me away again,¡± she said. ¡°I never will,¡± he said. ¡°Can you forgive me?¡± Her arms tightened around him. ¡°As easy as breathing.¡± He leaned back, then, and with a smile he raised her chin so she was looking at him. ¡°May I kiss you?¡± ¡°Oh, yes, please.¡± He lowered his lips to hers, and she kissed him with all the passion that had built up since the moment they met. ¡°Come inside,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m thinking about lemon chicken for dinner.¡± Taking his hand in hers, Gwendolyn cocked her head to the side. ¡°I had a different idea. There are still a couple rooms upstairs you haven¡¯t shown me yet.¡± Tristan stared blankly back at her, confused. ¡°You can explore the tower, of course.¡± ¡°No, I mean,¡± she laughed. ¡°Why don¡¯t you show me your bedroom? In particular.¡± ¡°Oh? Oh! Oh.¡± The wizard scratched his neck. ¡°Yes, great idea. Right now?¡± Gwendolyn bit her lip and nodded. ¡°Right, then.¡± He pulled her close and kissed her again. ¡°Come with me.¡± Epilogue Deep in the South Forest is a raised platform. It stands taller than even the tallest of trees and is enchanted to grow as necessary to maintain its superior height. The platform itself is large enough to hold three villages, but that is not what it is used for. One by one, wizards popped into existence across the platform, each wearing his best robes with all tassels and stoles that they had earned throughout their academic enterprises. Last but not least was Tristan the Great and Powerful Wizard of the Forest, followed quickly by his apprentice, Gwendolyn. The first hour of the Gathering was for mingling and networking, so Tristan, true to form, had waited until the last minute to teleport in, thus avoiding that whole ordeal. Gwendolyn teased him mercilessly about that, insisting that she could have done all the talking for him, but he overruled her. When she learned how to teleport herself, he said, she could show up in time to mingle. They were not the only couple to walk hand in hand, but they were certainly the most whispered about. The other wizards had never seen Tristan in anyone¡¯s company, save perhaps Xavier on occasion. Many female wizards had attempted to catch his eye over the years only to be steadfastly ignored, and there was more than one jealous eye on Gwendolyn as they searched for their place in the crowd. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen, honored wizards,¡± a voice boomed from the stage. ¡°We¡¯ve come to the moment you¡¯ve all been waiting for, the Great Showcase! I for one am very excited to see what new spells you all have discovered this year, and I¡¯d like to kick it off with our very own, Tristan the Great and Powerful Wizard of the Forest! His submission is called Butterfly Stream.¡± The announcer faded from view, and Tristan teleported into the center of stage. To anyone else he might have seemed particularly taciturn, but Gwendolyn knew it was stagefright that kept him quiet. The wizard pulled his wand from beneath the folds of his robe and gave it a quick flick. Instantly, a colorful stream of butterflies emerged from the tip, small at first and rapidly growing as they spread out above the crowd. The audience went wild, cheering for the spell and reaching up to try and touch the beautiful butterflies. Tristan cleared his throat. ¡°Ahem. This is Butterfly Stream, which I invented with the help of my apprentice, Gwendolyn.¡± Gwendolyn beamed. She held up a wand of her own and send a spell straight up in the air. A stream of light that formed a big, red heart.