The Magician's Vow: A Retelling of The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Part I - Chapter II: Journals & Journeys

I have failed my wife. I have condemned her to a painful last few days. The potion in the tome did nothing more than the others. It was too weak. I cannot bear to watch as my wife slowly succumbs to the illness. I cannot watch, wondering if this breath will be her last, or this one... Or this one. 

I wish to be far from the pain that she is going through, but as her husband, as the man who loves her, I refuse to go farther than my workshop. Even now, I know that I've been away for too long. The sun will be rising in only a few hours. I must return to Lorelle, keep her warm and comfortable. Make the last days of her life as peaceful as I possibly can with whatever I can. 

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Perhaps venturing out in the rain had not been the wisest choice. Even though he could not get ill, Eugene could still create a puddle in the middle of his home. 

He sighed and ran his fingers through his soaking hair. Droplets trickled down onto the wooden boards. The soft plinking of the water hitting the age-old wood had a deep and hallow sound to it. Almost as if the room had gone from a small home to an arena, empty and haunted.

Eugene strode over to the far right corner of the small home and knelt beside the cauldron that hung on a hook in the stone fireplace. Cold ashes were spread out under it. He glanced over at his wife. Even from this distance, he could see every little cold bump that coated her arms and upper chest. 

He gritted his teeth and groaned. How could he have been so stupid as to let the fire go out? He had been so overcome by his own failure that he had again failed to care and provide for his ailing wife. 

He cursed down at the floor and furrowed his brow. Had he subconsciously already given up on Lorelle? Had he involuntarily pushed her to the back of his mind? Eugene quickly shook his head. Of course he was to blame, but there was a time for everything, and right now, it was time to make a fire. 

"Lignum apparent," he said to the silent room. A soft mist appeared on the ground before him. Within moments, the mist was blown away leaving a pile of firewood in its place. Eugene took the cauldron out of the firebox and placed his hands upon the logs. 

"Disponat," he says. The logs leapt to life and floated into the firebox and arrange themselves. 

He placed his hand onto the wood and whispers, "Adolebit." His hand began to glow orange and the log beneath it alighted. The fire quickly spread to the other fire logs and soon a roaring fire began to heat up the room. 

He shook his head and sighed, letting his head fall into his hands as he reflected on the potion he had made. What had he done wrong? Why had it not worked? He had followed each and every direction perfectly. It should have worked. 

Was it possible that he might have mistranslated it? No. 

Was it possible that the recipe was a fake or simply too weak? Yes. 

Eugene rubbed his tired eyes. He would just have to keep trying. He would not admit defeat. It was not an option.

Standing up, he walked over to the puddle he had made and laid his hand over it. 

"Siccare," he whispered. The puddle shrank before his eyes until it had completely disappeared. He crossed back to the fire, but a soft voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Eugene," Lorelle whispered, her voice a little clearer than it had been the last time they had spoken.

Eugene quickly pushed the thought of the flames aside and made his way to her side. "Yes? Is there anything you would like?"