For Good

Air

Too many cases. There were far too many cases piled up in front of me on this bland Tuesday. They made my head ache. Normally, treating the pains and illnesses that found their way onto my desk took next to no brain power. But today, the stack of medical files seemed incredibly daunting. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I hadn't bothered trying to sleep the night before.

Instead, I had sat in my favorite overstuffed reading chair and pored over a new volume of magic I had recently acquired. When dealing with unfamiliar magic, however minute, my body has a habit of amping itself into overdrive. My skin prickling, my lungs aware of each breath I draw, the world opens me up to the new source of energy. I'm considering putting a comparison here, perhaps to a flower blooming, but I think you get the picture.

As you can imagine, it makes it quite hard to sleep.

So I hadn't.

To be honest, there are very few things that bring me so much feeling anymore. This job certainly doesn't. But after 1500 years of existence, I've figured out that sitting alone at home isn't exactly healthy. This at least fills the day and makes me focus on someone other than myself. And I am technically a physician by trade.

Resigned, I began pulling files off the top of the stack in twos.

* * *

Many hours later, honestly I'm not certain exactly how many, I grasped the handle of my waiting Corsa and swung the door wide. Slipping into the seat, I was startled by a yawn that split my face in two. God, I needed sleep. Immortal or no. The engine purred to life, and I began my quiet drive home.

The English countryside was a blur as I drove, shades of green turning grey-blue as the sun set. Many years ago, I had chosen to live in seclusion, far from any other dwelling. Then, it had taken me several hours on horseback to reach any kind of settlement. However, as time spun her wretched, merciless clock around me, everything seemed to encroach. People re-entered long-abandoned lands and built houses which turned to towns and then cities. Stragglers on horseback became automobile traffic on flattened roads which turned to roaming motorways that criss-crossed every region of the area. And with all these changes, my safe, secluded lands became a slightly out of the way home that could be reached in a half hour by car.

At first I had been angry at the changes. For many they seemed gradual, only one or two major advancements happening in most people's lifetimes. But for me, it was all at once, all the new developments doing their utmost to invade what I had built for myself. In time, though, I came to appreciate the nearness of things and people. Yes, I still craved solitude, but in those moments when I needed something or someone, it was far more convenient to meet that need. So I made my peace with the new world that grew outside my hamlet. Besides, no one could deny that a journey in the plush seat of a car was far preferable to the same journey on a galloping steed.

I neared my lands and felt energy hum lowly through the air. While I no longer hated others being so close, I had still taken the precaution of warding my home and the area around it with many layers of protective shielding. No use in being the most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the earth if the job didn't come with perks. I had been the only one with the ability to grant entry to this area for the last 600 years. It was exactly as I wanted it. Crossing the boundary of my land, I felt the hum increase in intensity. Layers of magic were pushed aside like thick syrup as I passed through the warding and pulled onto my drive, a long stretch of pavement surrounded by greenery and rambing gardens. Those directed my car for nearly a kilometer before the road widened, and I was met with my home.

The structure had started simply enough: only a room or two to sleep and eat and exist. But time - there it is, that word again - time. Time is a recurring issue for me. Because time changed my simple home. Time made needs arise. Time required that I add new rooms, new furnishings as they became available. Sure, you say, I could have gotten on without them. But what would you rather sleep on: a thin straw mattress or a plush orthopedic mattress (more akin to a structured cloud, really) snugly fitted into a smooth, sturdy frame?