The Mage

the end

the endSometimes, she thinks back on earlier days with nostalgia, as though her life had ever been simple. It never was, but at least young people can pretend that they are immortal, that even though things go wrong and go wrong and go wrong, it will all be okay, in the end. Young people can believe that there is truth in fairy tales, that simple goodness is enough to ensure a happy ending, that kisses really can break curses. Young people can believe that someone will always be there to take care of them. When things go wrong, someone bigger and stronger will save me. Someone older and wiser will hold my hand when I don’t know what to do.

If magic is real, how can anyone ever be afraid?

The darkness is disorienting, and she can feel those old illusions slipping away into the night.

They are watching her, waiting for a word, for a command.

Only moments ago, they were safe. They were protected. Now, here in the dark, beneath a clouded sky, the entire world has canted sideways.

What is she fighting for, anyway? Perhaps some creatures are too terrible to live. Perhaps she is one of them. Perhaps they all are.

She remembers lying on a beach, once. She spread a blanket on the sand and stretched out beneath the sun and closed her eyes. It was safe, warm and bright. She woke with the waves rising over her, and in the delirious place between sleep and wakefulness, she was certain she was going to die.

She was asleep in the sun, and now the water is rising over her head, and this time, it’s too deep for her to find the surface. There must still be a sun somewhere above the chaos. Someone wiser to take charge. A hand to hold tight to hers and drag her coughing onto dry ground.

Perhaps some creatures are too terrible to live.

Perhaps she is one of them.

Perhaps they all are.