In My Dreams

Wand's tears

"A long time ago, an enchantress came to Xakar Kingdom with a great and terrible rage. No one knows where she comes from or why she is here. The few who have seen her are either dead or cursed, like Rok. It is said that she was birthed from the evil in the hearts of humans from the Mirror Realm. I highly doubt that, however. She may be just another petty witch to me," Aronin rolled his eyes and twirled his fingers as the scenes around them changed. They moved through Blackthorne Forest, farther past some mountains, and across a lake until they reached a small town. People screamed and ran away from a chaos of explosions. A spark flew out and turned an old woman into a statue. Another spark flew and hit a wailing child. It flailed and morphed into a bear cub. Another blew up a burly man in flames until he collapsed into ashes. 

Clara covered her mouth in horror. There was no sign of where the magic was coming from. It was as if it were coming from everywhere at once, in all different colors. It would have looked beautiful if it weren't for the fact that it was destroying everything. Suddenly, the scene shifted and they were sitting in the middle of what appeared to be a throne room. Enormous tapestries hung on opposite walls, a carpet led up to the throne, and large stained glass windows colored the room with light. Sitting on a large, red cushioned wooden chair, an obese bald man slumped in it with a hand holding a golden goblet. Beside him, stood a straight-backed slim man with short brown hair and brown eyes. He was as ordinary-looking as a stable boy, but his eyes held something akin to pride. 

"When King Wilan died, his son took up his place on the throne. As soon as he was crowned, King Wilan Reginald II banned all magic practice and magic-bearing folk from the kingdom."

The scene changed to another time in the throne room. The tapestries had been replaced with gold and blue flags, with a dragon silhouette on them. The throne was replaced with a chair completely made of stone. King Wilan Reginald II would have been too small to fill the previous wooden throne, but in the new stone one, he looked tall with his head raised and a thin metal crown on his head. A crowd of townspeople circled the throne, guards standing around them. 

The king's voice echoed in the room as he roared, "This enchantress is a plague on our land! We must rid of all magic! For the people! For our lives! My father would rather let magic make him lazy and fat! Magic is not without a price! No, we will eradicate it forever! We are reclaiming this kingdom! No longer will we rely on these parasites! We are not prey! We fight for our freedom! For our peace! For Xakar!"

"For Xakar!" they chorused back, their faces aglow with hope and excitement. 

The scene changed. Clara started to feel sick. She covered her mouth as the colors warped. She closed her eyes until it all settled. She opened them to see that they had returned to Aronin's office. She sunk down in her chair with relief. "Please don't do that again," she groaned. 

Aronin patted her shoulder with a smirk. "What a pair you are, sick from a simple memory spell. I'm off to help Urick and Orgron, Rok. It seems they've come across an unfortunate delay with their task. Never send students to do a master's job," he chuckled. "I'll be back as quickly as I can. Stay as long as you like." He nodded to Rok and Clara. 

"Wait! What am I supposed to do here—!" Clara yelped. Aronin only grinned with one of his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly stepping away from his desk. He slammed his staff down and vanished in a puff of smoke. 

There was a long moment of silence. Clara stared at the empty spot where Aronin had stood. She wrapped her arms around herself. What was she going to do now? Sit around? Read wizard books? Pass the time as she ages further in this new world? She didn't notice she was crying until she felt the tears drip down her lips. A handkerchief came into her view. She blinked at the large green hand holding it. She looked up. 

Rok looked at her with a solemn frown. She slowly took the cloth and wiped her face. A nervous chuckle left her lips as she turned around and collapsed into the futon by the fireplace. "Werewolves. Evil Enchantress. Angry king. Magic. What a crazy nightmare," she said softly. She stared into the flames. "If only I had known fairy tails were more dangerous than they appeared. I shouldn't have—those stupid stories. It's all a scam to—to make people buy princess toys for their children and pay for theme parks. I hate it here. But I also hate it there. Oh, what am I going to do?" Clara cried and covered her eyes. 

Rok stood by the futon, uncomfortable. He looked down at the fireplace, then at the wand laid on Clara's lap. It blinked with a bright yellow glow as each tear fell onto it. It was doing what it was meant to do. Absorbing its master's emotions to bear its own, to latch onto them, like a bond. To recognize their signature touch, their magic. Despite the tears that fueled it, he was proud to see his mother's knowledge show in its magic. Fuel the wand and it will fuel the fire inside of you, darling. His mother's voice echoed in his mind. He slowly walked to the armchair and sat down. It creaked under his weight. He folded his hands and leaned forward. 

"Why do you hate your home?" Rok asked softly. 

Clara jumped and looked up. She quickly wiped her face and looked away. "My husband hates me."

Rok's eyes widened. She was blunt, that was certain. A husband. She is married. He tightened his fingers in their fold. Was he royalty? A wizard? A human? Surely, someone handsome and not...green. "How could he hate you? You must be mistaken," he said. 

Clara shook her head and covered her face. "He hates me! I do everything he wants! I do everything he asks! I try so hard, but it's never enough! I don't know what I'm doing wrong. He never wants to see me, never wants to spend time with me. It's like I'm a nuisance." Her chest shuddered and she fell into anguished sobs. 

Rok's heart squeezed. He wanted to do everything in his power to ease her pain. To dry her tears. He remembered how quickly the banshee sought her out in Blackthorne Forest. How raptured she looked to see a soul with so much deep sorrow. He couldn't bear the thought that such a beautiful woman held so much pain.