#icthya

[talesofealdancynedom]

Bonus Illustration: Rosael (garden wildling), and Whistiaon (Calci Tree), In Icthya and Cetus’s childhood backyard magic garden.

Patrick Dawnhill decided to make a magic garden in his new family home. He knew by the Tower up the valley, that Pepperidge was a magic forest; which meant plenty of fey lived here. For those who can talk to fey, it meant Pepperidge was a bigger community then it looked, and there are far more potential friends around every corner.

To have his garden the way he wanted it, he asked each magic plant he fancied in town, if they would like to be his friend and live in his garden. Soon, Patrick had a big, cozy and loving magic garden. It even attracted a lone garden wildling called Rosa; who would wander in and out of the garden to help it grow, and play with Patrick’s children; Cetus and Icthya.

His garden would provided a sanctuary for the tree children in it, and good company for him, his wife, his children, and the grandchildren he did not live to see.

[talesofealdancynedom]

King Fredrick Cynedom, depicted with the things he loved; Minus the cats.

37. The Second Chance (chapter 3 - Me and Fredrick 3/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams.

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From over the windowsill, Merriam saw a young man through the fogged glass. He had eyes of jade, and strawberry waved hair. Merriam found herself unable to look away, and in fact, drawn to open the window. The fellow shrank while Merriam reached to unlatch the window. Which was fused shut. Against all logic, Merriam was compelled to greet him, and dropped her anguish for what felt like a familiar face; To the point of forgetting she knew magic. Instead of going through the walls, or stopping time, Merriam shot out the kitchen, and down to the back door. She turned the corner, and tripped over her observer. Their eyes met for a forever.

“Merry? You look like the day we met. I saw our daughter, and she was like a swan. Am I dreaming?”

“Fredrick?! You also look as young as me. Though these are the colours magic gave you, after crossing the ether with me… To think I didn’t believe our princess could do this. You died so long ago, but all evidence indicates this is real.” Merriam said, getting nearer, touching his cheek. “My words are taken.”

“So, Odette is forgiven for this foolish deed? She begged me to convince you this is an act of love. She seemed filled with guilt. Odette healed me just in time, tossed me in enchanted waters, and took me here; I’m not sure if I should applaud her.”

“Unsure?! We both lived fulfilling long lives, with Happily Ever Afters, and all the garnishes. Loved ones near, in a lap of luxury; More then many of our time could ask. I had concluded my journey with acceptance, and asked her not to heal me. She kept me in a coffin for centuries, Fredrick. She’s waving magic around without thought of consequences; She should feel bad.” Merriam rambled.

“That may be true, but I get to hug my lost daughter, and live a little longer with my wife. Should I be so angry? There is always more to live for.”

“Using too much magic at once can kill a mage! I’m worried sick!” Merriam started. She noticed Fredrick had zoned out.

“As a boy, I always thought if I wasn’t King, that I’d like to foster cats with a common lady, in the countryside.” He said vacantly. A tabby with a jeweled collar walked by. He tried to lure it. Merriam gently put his arm down.

“Dear, that’s a fencing cat; It even has cute little boots.” She sighed. Fredrick smiled, and then tried asking it nicely, since that sometimes works on fey.

Fredrick and Merriam held hands at a small desk. They were in the study center, waiting for Odysseus to gather the records. Instead, he was writing letters. Merriam had to explain that if no one believed them, they’d be without a future. Time manipulation can get hard to grasp, even among magic users. It would be difficult to live anew, without a legal identity. While Odysseus wrote, Merriam and Fredrick nudged closer and closer by the minute; Unable to resist the other’s affection. Their True Love anklets had reappeared; thus, the spell had been recast. Fredrick admired Merriam’s fairy robes. There was nothing she couldn’t pull off. He asked if she’d like him to cut her hair again. Merriam leant closer and asked for a good kiss instead. Odysseus looked up, and told them to be quieter. After rolling her eys, Merriam got up and took Fredrick around ranch; She wanted to show him how their nephew Eatheltwein retired.

“This reminds me of when we went to Eastlands of Vietica.” Fredrick said looking about in complete calmness. “Remember that old man who made jade tools? The top of the golden butte was a meditative path. I nearly died in the ether getting there, but you finally knew healing potions. After he gave us wisdom, you finally cried for all you’d lost in my arms. A nice dream together. A moment without politics.” Fredrick reminisced, falling into a rose bush. Merriam jumped over it to heal him on the other side.

“My roses! No!” A sharp voice cried. They peered over the foliage. The Gardner had long caramel hair, grass green eyes, and a slight frame spackled with freckles. Her coveralls were patched and dirty, as where her gloves and hat.

“I’m sorry. I tripped. Can I make amends?” Fredrick asked. The Gardner looked up in tears. She nodded and reached out her hand. Both Merriam and Fredrick shook it.

“I’m Icthya. I’m just really attached to the plants… Gardening reminds me of my late father, and I planted these myself. I even tend the Tree Fey.” Icthya sniffed. Fredrick felt guiltier by the moment.

“Wait, you two; Have you seen my husband? He’s not feeding the goats and chickens like normal. I had to make a knight do it. He’s been out of it lately. Our son is returning this autumn.”

“What does your husband look like? My familiar Nihten can search from the sky.” Merriam inquired. She was a sucker for helping people on a tangent. Icthya smiled at Nihten.

“My son has a bird familiar too. Are you a mage?”

“Stop for a second.” Fredrick interjected. “The Gardner is commanding knights?”

“I’m ‘Queen’.” Icthya snorted, she started fixing the bushes.

“Well, in that case, ‘King’ Odysseus is in the library passionately writing a letter.”

“Oh, wedding planning for our son! He must be getting along with my brother Cetus.” Icthya smiled. Merriam tilted her head,

“I’ve met him; He knitted me socks in two hours. Full circle then. Well, would you by any chance help us prove our identities, so we can live anew? We’re Odette’s parents. As Queen you must h-.”

“I’m not sure about queenly stuff, but I do know the records better then Oddie. I had to put away all of Morgan’s books when he was little. I bet I can find proof you existed Merry and-” Icthya looked at Fredrick. She recognized him from the art. “King Fredrick?!” She gasped. He nodded cautiously.

“Well then, I think you’ll have no problem! Everyone learns about him, and many know magic. If you say ‘time magic’, and gesture to Fredrick, the right person could help you.” Icthya shrugged. “But if I may, why do you want to get government ID first? Wouldn’t it be worth your time to adjust to modern times? What about Odette? I think she needs her parents, given she’s misusing her magic for them. She might be struggling. Same thing happened with Morgan; Scares me silly.” Icthya continued. Fredrick was clicking at a real cat this time, and ruffling behind its ears. Merriam softened; it was her turn to fell regret.

“I guess that’s true Icthya. It would be a shame to hate a child for bringing back their parents. She left us at twelve, and we never got to know her as an adult. Though I wish I had died, I can’t go back; I can’t dishonour her. Not after her effort, and spending so many years wishing she had stayed.” Merriam looked at her feet; She felt unable to embrace the opportunity quite yet. Seeing her wilt, Fredrick handed her the cat.

“If we get to be a family again, and have youth, we can make choices. Merriam, before we ever got wed, what did you dream of doing? I always wondered what choice you lost, that made you so resentful.” Fredrick asked. Merriam grimaced. She’d buried that dream long ago. She was too old and bitter for such things. Her ambiance became a consuming blackness.

“Dream big Merry! You have a new life, and little to lose! I’m so curious; What did a Mage Queen really want as a girl?” Icthya encouraged. Merriam stared into middle-distance; She now wanted Fredrick and Odette in her dream, but that’s not what they were asking. They wanted to know her first wish. Merriam inhaled deeply.

“I wanted to become an old hag, living in a thicket of whimsical wonders, without a husband, or children. Starving in Francia with my father and milk-sister. Spending my days tending fey, observing my gate, and aiding wanderers. Adorned in kohl, rouge, and black. Peaceful solitude, surrounded by nature.” She confessed firmly. There was a pause. Fredrick began to uncontrollably laugh.

“Well, I’ll be damned if your father didn’t make a good choice sending you to my side! That sounds the opposite of the loving, and adventurous, woman I love. Your favourite colour is periwinkle, for wonders’ sake!” He chuckled. “How young did we make you a bride, for you to want something so miserable?” He went on. Merriam cringed with embarrassment. She had to agree.

They had lunch in the main hall, with Odysseus, Icthya, the five modern knights. Yesterday’s duck, peas, and radish, with today’s bread. They also had fresh butter, and bowls of pommes. The room was lit by the opened roof panels, providing a dusty glow. The walls were tall and red, the tables long. Every inch carved with pears and horses. Merriam loved how tacky and cozy this hall was. Fredrick however, thought the ponies a bit much.

In the afternoon, they offered services to earn their boarding, as they had no money. Everyone seemed calm, and accepted who they were. They had already seen Odette restore the acreage; It was not a far streach, to assume she’d bring back loved ones. Merriam and Fredrick spent the night in the Prince’s Cabin, where they bathed and put on sleeping gowns. They began reading Eatheltwein’s journals. Fredrick died before his nephew had a family. It tugged his heart to once more read the poor grammar, and excited tone. All the illustrations were in yellow. Fredrick wanted to be mad people read his diaries, but in their defence, he was dead. It made Fredrick sad to read how people felt after losing him, and reading about the milestones he missed. Merriam brought him tea.

“I now understand Merry. I see why you told our daughter to let you go. I was happier in my last moments, being optimistic about my recovery, then reading these accounts. Having my last thoughts be of love, instead of knowing the woe of my kin and the memories I never made. It makes me feel distant. If there is anything else I missed, don’t tell me. I’m unsure my heart can bear it. I wish I’d never known this. Was it better to pass in ignorant bliss, then live on? This changes things.” Fredrick cried. Merriam hugged him, as it got dark.

“I know. I’m so lost. It fells empty. I never planned for this. How does I live again? Wanting more from each moment, and resenting the past’s charm.”

NEXT --->

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[talesofealdancynedom]

Tale 26: The Haunting Acre (6/6)

26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 6 - Ye Grass ov Greene 6/6) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

Icthya awoke in the vacant dinning hall; Perhaps the liquor had made her dream. She felt so tiered. Icthya staggered out of the hall, and latched it tight, then turned to see the well. There was a lady, with white hair tied back in a knot, wearing pearls and kohl. Her fairness matched her flowing periwinkle gown. She laced a bronze chain between her fingers, holding an hourglass over the well. A person! Icthya gasped. She ran to meet the maiden, if only just to exchange words.

“Welcome to Kendal & Saxon, may I ask your name?” Icthya gleamed.

“I am Raven Queen Odette,” She responded firmly. “I came to practice turning time. My mother did it once, and saved many lives; But I want to use it to restore the black tower for the Mage King, Morgan. It’s hard, because though I am imbued with one tenth of all magic, I cannot focus on this hourglass. It reminds me of my mother. The Shadow Veil’s magic, has made me forget time, but now I remember I’m the lost princess; And my mother died in my arms.”

“That is sad, I am sorry.” Icthya whispered. “So, you restored the acreage? If that’s the case, thank you; It’s perfect.”

“Yes. Odysseus opened and bonded to the gate of the well long ago. I stand over the well, as the veils are thinnest here; It helped me cast the spell. I hope it works in Pepperidge.”

“Pepperidge? You said this is for Morgan; Is this for my son?” Icthya continued. “He lives in the tower of Tiberius Gate with my brother. His happily ever after is in that magic forest. He’s a good mage, and couldn’t just let the tower fall; It has all his restored journals too.”

“Well, wizards where displeased when the maiden mundanely betrothed to Morgan fled. She is told to be a snake, that keeps your son in the forest he wishes nowhere else to be. She is stripped of her heritage, and trapped on this soil. That was once almost me. Morgan then abused his power to restore royal heirlooms, the silly goat.” Odette explained. “My want, is only to fix the tower by reversing it’s time. As royal Grand West blood, Morgan is my family in a way. I am here to practice on my cousin Eatheltwein’s home.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you.” Icthya said, walking closer. Odette then smiled, while looking at the tiny hourglass strung on the cradled chain.

“That reminds me; I missed Eatheltwein’s wedding. I miss my family. May I, as a princess of the west, come to your son’s wedding, for old time’s sake?”

“So, the legend is true; You’re the princess who fell for the Raven King, before you or your cousin could marry?” Icthya asked. Knowing old tales are true is a comfort. The restored surroundings and heirlooms were not an illusion or of malice, but the talents of her son and The Raven Queen.

“I nearly died of heartbreak when my parents died; And later my cousin,” Odette sighed. “But he was a mage who wished to visit me; Thus, he made a gate under his retirement home. In turn, my husband the Raven King, cursed every first-born son of house Cynedom to be a mage; So that they can visit me in the Shadow Veil. But none of them came.”

“None of them knew.”

“I see. That’s kind of funny.” Odette laughed. “I’m leaving, now that I know I can restore the tower. However, I still want to return for the wedding, if that’s ok.”

“YES!” Odysseus called from the cabin door. “We would love your company! You fixed our home, and it will cheer my boy. Any royal blood is welcome to such occasions, Odette.”

“Do you like grass? Your magic has dampened this place; Perhaps something pleasant might brighten your mood? You really should learn how to cast spells properly.” Odette scoffed. She disappeared into a plume of glitter smoke. She had return to the ether. Odysseus looked at his shoes; Traditional riding boots. He tapped his foot.

“Icthya, I’m sorry. Maybe when Morgan hugged me, after I quested for it, it created a dissonance. I am unworthy of his love, but he gives it. It doesn’t feel real.”

“Just earlier I felt a little like that. Me and the world feeling separate, I mean. But as I look around, I saw and felt so many wonderful things. It warded off your spell for a time.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t feel real to me; No matter the beauty. Only you, Helrund, and Crista, have stirred me.” Odysseus sighed. “But, there’s a phone in the house. It’s so odd. Right as emotion entered me, it appeared. Maybe I should tell Morgan I’m proud of him, and apologize for betrothing and hurting him, and-”

“I don’t think a phone alone, will make you accept the world; You need to believe it yourself.” Icthya encouraged. Her husband’s pessimism and gloom, was compelling her to help him. “Odette said grass! But everything here is that darn cursed clover…” Icthya said, taking her husband’s cold hands. Then she remembered something, and dragged Odysseus to the orchard.

 The orchard grew pommes of Anglia’s legends. All sorts of apples, pears, figs, and berries. The trees crowding the soil, row on row. Each tree with a unique twist, and bower. Each with a voice, even those that are not fey. Odysseus touched them, and smelled their flowers. First the enchanted ones with sweet voices, then the real ones that unnerved him. To his surprise, they weren’t statues or specters.

Icthya had worked the land of the orchard clean, and thus it resisted the clover’s haste. Odysseus, seeing grass, buried his fingers into it. Green, the colour of his kingdom. It smelled fresh, moist, and earthy, yet sour. It was plush and inviting, as some blades escaped through his fingers. It was cold, but not fridged. The dew chilling his knees, as it dampened his jeans. The grass made Odysseus sad. It made him happy. It made him remember running upon it as a child. Staining his clothes, and always in need of mowing. It feels like a cold ache and racing heart. Tormenting, and demanding attention. It felt like being alive; This is what real felt like.

 When Odysseus looked up, his face covered in tears. He saw the face of his radiant wife; In gardening clothes, and smelling faintly of spiced liquor. Icthya smiled at him; Adorned in work clothes, and smelling of hey. Odysseus concentrated on knowing the garden was alive. With each second, Icthya and Odysseus slowly heard laughter, voices, and birds. The light was warm and glowing. From behind, they heard a voice call:

“There you two are! We need help with the chickens! They got out! This place has been renovated to its original condition, like from olden times. And chickens know of old things...” A farm hand said. Those where precious heritage bred chickens; and they attracted foxes this time of year. Odysseus jumped up, and dashed to the coops. Once there, he found the teacher, who worked with visiting children. She was also chasing poultry. It made Odysseus wonder if what Odette said was true.

“Was there always a black well, with a nymph, in the courtyard?” Odysseus asked.

“Yes, why? We have a lot of art and books depicting it. You want to see?” She asked.

“No. I’m good. Just checking.” Odysseus said. Then he noticed a chicken, of spotted chocolate and white by the treeline. It was resting like a dinner roll on the leaf litter. Odysseus silently and slowly approached the hen. A grin on his face. Sometimes, he would let them loose for fun after fox hunting. He picked up the plump pheasant confidently, and gleamed proudly. Looking to the horizon, through the holt, he saw wheat in the neighboring fields. The fog had lifted. Beneath his feet was leaves and spring moss. Wild flowers taking any spot of sunshine. The driads loafed in the olives. Not a darn clover in sight. He would embrace his son again, and he could hardly wait.

Tales of Ealden Cynedom,

Finished

TABLE OF CONENTS--->

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[talesofealdancynedom]

Tale 26: The Haunting Acre (4/6)

26. The Haunting Acre (chapter 4 - Ye Eard ov Rad 4/6) part 7. Stories of Magic Forests

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  Another quiet evening as Odysseus wandered the grounds. The ranch was restored to its original form; Even Odysseus appeared like a lord of old. He needed the misty air to ease his mind. The haunting dimness of his own royal cabin, was filled with the endless shadow of a cedar thicket. The walls now only held paintings of the ranch, and seemed like they were presently occurring, instead of smothered memories. Clear bright colours, animals, and people. But Odysseus could do little but stare at them, as his wife urged him to join her for rest.

Icthya embraced the surroundings; Playfully indulging this dream, while waiting for reality to resume. To her, it was a desperately stormy night, where she hid behind the bed’s shawl in her queenly gowns. Icthya was no longer under any desensitizing spells. The aura of shade and mist were weaning to her. She slowly recognized everything, and was bewildered by its replenished beauty.

This was indeed their home. But the appearance was achieved with mystic means. While Odysseus returned to roaming his inherited land, looking for something he did not know, Icthya looked at every object around her; And noticed small runes or little tags. She had seen these objects before; But not here. Not in her house. Soon, even legendary weapons and books, that were once worn, appeared around the house fully restored; Yet, they disappeared by dawn. The walls between settled silent halls, no longer containing memories of tears for her father and son. It was as if the house was cleansed, and shone like olivine, if only the sun would light it.

 The grounds were grim, but Odysseus felt no fear. Feeling cold was but a memory of a shiver. Only his shallow strained breath, indicated his response to the night. His mannerisms implied he invited death, if it waited for him in the twilight. But no. Only raven fey sleeping about; More appearing each hour. Made of magic, they felt like avian spirits; Like tapestries or stories that are alive. Odysseus suspected he was wandering a myth he didn’t belong in, until he saw his hands. Those white marks, like ribbons around his wrists, indicating his heart alone could heal. His palms weak, and reminding him of what he once grasped.

The fey endeared Odysseus and his wife. Such wonders didn’t comfort them like it did their son. Mythical beasts now caused Odysseus to chill his heart, as much as it enticed. It made Odysseus softly, and silently, search along familiar structures. He opened every door: The classroom, library, coop, pen, and other cabins. Even the waist high stone wall, about the homestead, seemed new but of old. Not a person in sight. Only obscuring mist across the windless fields. The paths of dirt, teal forest, and mossy grass as littered with fallen trees and clover. Clover; Have I buried something? Is that why I search? For my son, or perhaps myself? This place is so empty without… Odysseus thought, looking into the small white and wine flowers.

Clover only grows on graves, in the tales Grand West children are told. Like red, the colour of blood. The opposite of green. Thus, the opposite of what makes up their nation. Green is of The Grand West of Anglia: From pears, to fields, to the eyes of its people. Bright grass, verdant dyes of olive and absinth. Rich ochers of yellow, mustard, tan and gold, upon the heads of the people of summer. Pure, temperate, giving, and precious. The colours of wealth and fertility. Free; Free like the phoenixes, three-legged crow, and roc. The regal gryphons, Stymphalian birds, and golden geese. Odysseus had been groomed to believe, and see, nothing else. As a man of royal blood, he kept the oaths of his ancestors; Never leave these lands, lest ye be buried, and break the hearts of those dear. Never take power over the people, who no longer have need of mages and absolute rule. Who are we to pick and choose the fates of others?

An echo. Chiming from the black well, with an ominous aura. The thing Odysseus refrained from inspecting. The dripping of water, and now sweet humming. How odd it is to finally hear something that I am so certain has sounded, Odysseus thought. For days all he heard was his breathing, steps, heart beat, and wife. But the well felt so real, and it drew Odysseus to its depths. He knew he could touch it, but felt it’s curse. It summoned him. Maybe tomorrow, he would look inside; Draw water for a bath, in his large black marble tub. For him and Icthya to warm their weary bones. Odysseus became curious under his shivering spine. What was that sweet echo, that rang up from that pit?

As dawn approached, Odysseus rode Crista around his lot, to see if even a little fog had lifted. He started to yearn for the sun. But the spell around him was so calm. It soothed him, and smothered his grief. It made Odysseus never want to leave; The beam of sunlight no longer worth it’s burn without their child. Icthya and Odysseus began to no longer desire reaching through a picture, to see what was real, whilst knowing it all a dream they would wake from.

In a greying blue room for tea, Odysseus put biscuits in his pocketed sleeves. His garbs, once red, were now black velvets, embraided with scarlet beads about the cuffs, trim and neck. Unlike Icthya, Odysseus never remembered getting dressed. But Icthya could never forget her husband picking her dresses each day.

“I know these clothes. They are from the museum within the old castle!” Icthya giggled. “The first royal home. I remember them being faded, shattering, scratched and stained; But look! They are as new. I feel like a queen, from corset to coat. What magic do you suppose casted such charms?” Icthya cheered. She twirled in the velvet dress of nearly black pine, and chartreuse silk trim. As she turned, it dawned on her; A memory of her son, whom she never knew could be a prince. A countryside ranch so unassuming, not even the wife of a king could connect the dots. It’s as if the last king’s ploy had worked too well.

“Odysseus, I know something might be able to restore so many treasures: Our son is a master of bringing the faded back to light.” Icthya proposed. It does seem like something my boy, Morgan, would love to do. If he could enchant the treasures of our kingdom, he wouldn’t say no. It is his favourite pastime. Odysseus mused. It is his finest talent. For only a second, his body perceived warmth from within.

Morgan had such a love of history and magic, Odysseus and Icthya could not pry it from his hands. Not violence, bribe, nor threat, could pull the boy from his destiny. It made Morgan a master Seer of magics of old.  As prince, if Morgan knew it, he would inherit the royal treasures presented before the public; Thus, he had every right to expertly restore all of it, if he wished. In fact, it seemed emanate. Every robe, painting, blade, and book, would be polished once passed through his mage hands. Their sweet boy may be able to restore objects, but he is too far away to enchant the whole homestead.  Such a thing is beyond even his powerful scope. He was not someone to hex land either. Morgan harbored no rage towards his father from being beaten and denied his dreams; Yet, he hadn’t forgiven Odysseus either.

Odysseus went to the well, to draw water for a bath. Icthya waited, and glistening like the dewy roses, upon the steps of their emerald cabin. Fog forming from her breath in the damp spring mourning. She was also curious about the foreboding aquafers chime. With a vase crafted to hold endless water, and a hemp rope from the stable, Odysseus prepared the draw water.

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[talesofealdancynedom]

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (3/8)

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (chapter 3 - Family Recipe 3/8 ) part 6. Stories of wizards

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Fairies are by far Morgan’s favourite. Particularly Naiads. Of course, he loved all magic; But something about fairies appealed to him. The glittering ice, pastel aesthetic, and the radiant portrayals of them in art. They could transmute, learn, and had the most human form of all fey. They had a special smile when they felt joy; Closing their eyes to put on a rosy checked doll like expression. Fairies also wielded the most powerful elemental and healing magics. They are easily befriended, and very helpful to humans that they are fond of. The Fairy King made her children for one simple reason; Befriending humans. Even their appearance and nature, was enticing and cheerful. They contained ignorant bliss, and ambiguous morality; Like they were trying, but still didn’t understand humanity; Yet, very badly wanted to. Lastly, they were the fey that got infatuated the most often, and their love requited because of their human forms. The most convincedly human, are the nymphs; The embodiments of nature.  

           Morgan’s first encounter with fey was with the Theamen River nymphs, at the city zoo. He was too young for school then. It startied his magic journey. Fey didn’t judge him, or hurt him. They talked with him politely, and shared kind greetings and smiles. Particularly once he learned Elden Anglian. Morgan’s first fey friend was a wolf prince, Eobreth, and his second mentor was a fountain nymph. Morgan nearly feinted at the sight of such a rarity, living indistinguishable from an ordinary man. Where ever Morgan wandered, there was fey; And every fey, was a friend.

           After his first visit to the Shadow Veil, Morgan lusted for more. Coming home, he realized how scary and overwhelming his life was. He had forgotten what it was like to have fun, enjoy learning, and feel safe. Luckily, his parents didn’t find out about his most recent spell experiments. To be extra sure, he ate dinner so they wouldn’t worry. At dinner, Morgan’s mother and father said they were going on an anniversary vacation to the countryside. Morgan dropped his fork; He was going to stay with his grandmother. For a whole week.

           Though grandfather’s magic garden reminded his parents of their father’s passing; It reminded grandmother of her true love. Grampa Patrick loved magic, and was sweet, silly and kind to everything. That sort of charisma is rare. His death in the line of duty was a tragedy, and a great loss to Morgan’s family. It gave them a mistrust of magic. Thus, Morgan’s mother, Icthya, kept her one and only miracle child away form magic. But there was also grandpa’s garden. For the Calci Tree, Whist, was a kind fey; Who made Morgan’s wishes came true. She taught Morgan how to speak with fey. Grandmother’s house was a haven, where Morgan could gently observe and study magic, without anyone stopping him. Often, Morgan wondered if his grandmother knew he was a mage, and learning magic, the whole time. Perhaps, she never stopped him because it reminded her of her late husband.

           A magic garden full of fey friends wasn’t all that waited for Morgan, in that cozy pastel cottage core Pepperidge home. There was also was baking with his grandmother. Homemade biscuits for the spaniels, and his favourite cookie; soft raspberry thumbprint cookies. His grandmother made Morgan an avid gardener, and baker. Each time he visited, he had injuries. Morgan’s relationship with magic, was second to her suspicions of a troubled home life. She just needed one ounce of proof, to be sure her grandson wasn’t safe.

           After a day of baking and gardening, Morgan went to bed early. He slept on the couch in the basement, out of preference. Sometimes he would roll out of the blankets, and his grandmother would tuck him back in. But tonight, Morgan had a nightmare. Unable to go back to sleep, he focused on the only thing that distracted his racing mind: Magic. His visit to the Shadow Veil proved that the Beast Kings liked the same things as their fey children. The Stone King was like a person, and he likes potatoes and games. No different then a friendly troll or tiny goblin. Morgan went into his backpack and found the smooth stone with the rune on it. He put it away. Then he went to the kitchen, and started stuffing his backpack. He brought cookies, dog treats, tea, broken key chains, and then headed to the shed. He grabbed one of his father’s horse brushes, some chalk, candles, and the garden hose. Quietly, Morgan returned to the basement, and drew the candle gate again; he wanted to see the veil once more.

           First, Morgan ran to the fairy kingdom. But he soon found out the gate he made went to the Wolf Kingdom. A luck calico came, and starting rubbing his leg. The orange of her patches and red of her collar stood out against the grayscale ether. Morgan gave her a good petting. She was so cute. He then followed her into the woods. In a clearing, Morgan lost track of the cat fey he was following. He looked around. There was a giant rock in the center, and trails going in every direction. He saw the platform of the Wolf Gate; it was also closed, just like the Stone Gate.

“Gud Deigan Mage.” Morgan heard in a growling voice. Looking up to the rock, he saw a giant timber wolf, clad in armour. Morgan’s face lit up. If Eobreth wasn’t a chip off the old block! Morgan bowed before the Wolf King, and introduced himself.

“Wait dear,” a soft voice spoke. “He is hurt. Let me heal him before you play. There is no love like a mother’s love, and no magic as powerful as love. The kiss of a Beast Queen will heal all ailments.” She continued. Morgan turned to his left to see a woman of the Far North, turn into a sizable white wolf. She licked his face, and his scars and bruises vanished.

“Oh. Thanks Wolf Queen?” Morgan inquired.

“Queen Flowen.” She smiled. Morgan hugged her. She was comforting and soft.

“My true love said play! There are my children mage boy,” The Wolf King boomed, looking into the brush. There were two puppies; one silver, one roan, and a grown white Aliki wolf princess.

“Do you want to hunt with us? I smell my eldest son on you! Of course, you want to!” The Wolf King laughed heartily. He was wagging his tail. Morgan was sure wolves couldn’t do that; But they were magic wolves.

“I don’t know about hunting… I don’t like hurting things. But I did bring you something you might like.” Morgan said quietly. He reached into his bag, took out the dog treats he baked, and opened the bag. There was silence as four royal wolves perked up and pointed their ears in his direction. Flowen turned back into her human self, to laugh.

“Do you know fetch? I bet you can catch these in mid air!” Morgan exclaimed.

           Morgan looked at the smooth stone he got from the Wolf King. It had the rune Ing on it. For the wolf kingdom he suspected. When he looked up, Morgan noticed he was in a forest of frosted trees. It was like a prettier version of winter. An ice bridge went over a creek, that had nymphs sleeping in it. There were nymphs everywhere; And pixies in the trees. Morgan was in a state of euphoria. The Fairy Kingdom was beyond his wildest dreams. After blacking out from excitement, he woke up on a sparkling lavender bed, in a purple glittering tent. A large woman, of gentle build and icy eyes,with long sunny hair, and a crown of ice was looking at him. Morgan gave her a thumbprint cookie, from his bag.

“A human who is a mage, is giving me a cookie!” She yelled. The Fairy King was the most childlike, innocent, and loving Beast King. She grabbed the biscuit, and ate it. The thumbprint cookie, made with love between a grandmother and grandson, was the best the Fairy King had yet.

“Thankyou!” She smiled.

“No, thank you. For your children. They are good friends.” Morgan smiled, getting up slowly “Sorry for feinting. I do that sometimes.” He whispered. The Fairy King was eating another cookie, her hand gently on her face in endearment. She had that same fairy smile as her children.

“As a mage, would you like fairy robes?” She spoke. She had already started making them, and putting them on Morgan before he could say anything. His pajamas were now protective, enchanted, navy and gold, raven kingdom robes.

           Morgan found a stone in his pocket, like the others, with the rune feor on it. Wealth, for the fairy kingdom it is. Heading in no particular direction, Morgan found himself in a dewy vibrant jungle oasis, before gently flowing springs. He had no clue where he was.

“You should go. She doesn’t like company.” Said a South-Central man, smoking a pipe. He mildly resembled a Galada, but with indigo monkey kingdom fairy robes. Morgan’s books sure made him make sense of the place; That must be Monkey Queen. Looking up, Morgan saw a golden baboon sitting upon an iron rod. She was wearing violet monkey robes, hooked with black and gold lotuses. She looked mad.

“Go away,” She snapped. “Me, and my children, like solitude to reflect on our wisdom.” She said in an assertive voice. The Monkey King, though pleased to see a mage in her kingdom, was unhappy to be interacting with someone. Before she finished her reflection, Morgan was on his way out. Fey didn’t have to ask him to do anything. He, like fey, would do anything for a friend. Surprised and amused, the Monkey king threw an apple and a stone at him. The apple tasted like rose water; the stone had the rune for Mann.

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[talesofealdancynedom]

Odysseus, in his faux raven fairy robes. Old illustration, but gets the concept across. Wizard-cowboy; combination wizard cowboy.

Tale 6: Odysseus Cynedom & Icthya Daigandun (chapter 2 - Awareness1/4) part 2. Stories of Fey

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Odysseus worked as a rancher; And once he had recovered from going dark, he went straight back to work. Odysseus feared he be shunned, now that his crimes were out in the open; but the topic of domestic violence, and the disappearance of a child, was so uncomfortable that no one asked. After all, Odysseus’s family owned the acreage for generations. Regardless, his collogues talked to him less each day. While Odysseus simply felt the world should punish him, life went on like nothing happened. His body had recovered form magic overwhelming him, but his emotions which caused it remained. Morgan and Icthya were his life, and now one of those thing’s was missing; and it was his fault. Becoming emptier inside each moment, Odysseus distracted himself with his work.

Odysseus loved horses, and he loved his job. In his time of need, the adorable animals were always there for him. The ponies, goats, and chickens, didn’t judge him or care about magic. They also knew nothing of Morgan or human matters. They innocently loved him for feeding them oats. It was simple and easy to please his equine acquaintances. Odysseus grew up working on this farm, and it made him talented and comfortable. He loved the historical ranch so much, he shared it with Morgan; from riding horses to grooming them. Odysseus countless pictures of him and his family here.

Even if Odysseus also loved magic like Icthya and Morgan, the ranch was also important to him. He would hide the fact he would die to groom a magical horse. Even the temptation to sheer a golden sheep when it wandered into his pens. Like a wizard cowboy or something of the like. Alas, the horses at his ranch were all perfectly normal; His unsatisfying mundane job, was just a good non-magical example for his son.

Icthya would cry at any mention of magic, or Morgan being around it. Odysseus loved his late father in-law’s whimsy and kindness, and thus missed him too. But not the point of immediately assuming magic was out to get mankind. Her father’s magic occupation was more correlation than causation. However, seeing his one and only love fall apart, and make him fear for his only child, slowly changed Odysseus for the worse.

Thus, Odysseus never mentioned his secret dream Infront of Icthya; In fear of worrying her, or encouraging Morgan. He was becoming suspicious of magic, against his nature. Like Icthya, deep down he still adored fey. But Odysseus had chosen to live a normal life and take care the horses, instead of just overseeing them. He would have even let fey wander around the homestead if it wasn’t for the love of Icthya and Morgan. This farm was Odysseus home, and now his famlies; He rode his first pony at the age of five here. He owned more pairs of jeans, riding boots, and plaids shirts then he needed for his job. This did not thrill Cetus and Icthya though, as they were less enthusiastic about barnyard fauna. Nonetheless, the house had rodeo art in every room, like Odysseus was trying to fill the void in his soul where magic was, with unrelenting country aesthetic.

   One day, Odysseus was called to check out some horses at a farm by the boarder. Odysseus’s ranch was occasionally leant farmhands; His family farm had gone from a heritage site, to an animal rescue over his lifetime. However, this trip was going to take a few days; the farm was across the isle on the mainland. Therefore, Odysseus packed a travel bag, and brought his still lingering regret. He kissed Icthya goodbye, and headed off early in the mourning. Icthya stood quietly for a moment, to hold back her tears. The house became quiet and empty as the door closed behind her husband. Icthya stood staring at the doorway, where she used to put Morgan’s little shoes on before school. Last year’s beat-up runners were still in the coat closet. Then and there Icthya decided to sell the house. The walls were stained with bad memories, that no new coat of paint could cover. It was time for a change.

Odysseus took the fiery, and then drove their truck and horse carrier to the farm. It was unreachable by train. He had a ‘knight’ with him, but they didn’t talk; Even while sharing an inn room. Altogether, the trip would take the entire weekend.

The farm that requested Odysseus’s expertise had horses, dogs, and grew wheat and barley. The family had owned the farm for over a hundred years as well. To this day, they used the traditional recipes for ale and bread; Passed down through the generations. The family offered Odysseus some of their bread and home brewed beer, as they discussed what to do with the dog and horses. They had become skittish in the past year, and were too feral to work. Odysseus had tamed and trained many rescued animals; but never heard of gentle old horses reverting to an aggressive state. The owner even said their health was good, as they had called a vet. Odysseus decided to take a look and give a second opinion.

 When Odysseus entered the barn, he found it dark, quiet, unattended, and clean. The horses seemed shy, but otherwise perfectly normal. He was able to coax them into letting him touch them, with a little patience. While Odysseus was examining the stables, he heard the patter of what sounded like a child running out of the barn. The dogs barked outside, and horses began to shuffle and nay. Odysseus tried to soothe them; which was difficult, as he was also unnerved. His trademark gentle hum did the trick. But he then saw another flash of something in his periphery. Odysseus looked around, but no one was there. He called hello into the empty barn, yet there was no answer. Odysseus would have doubted his senses, if the animals hadn’t frenzied.

After an hour of closer examination, Odysseus couldn’t find anything wrong with the horses or stables. They seemed frightened for no reason. He went to approach the owners, who now stood by his truck. He noted a small trail of blood that led from his feet at the barn door, to the back trailer. Odysseus slowly followed the trail, and then crouched as he listened to the owner on the other side of his pick-up.

“I thought we had gotten all of them. Thank goodness you came back. Our house had random doors and windows open. Our beer and bread were eaten, and things broken; The whole-nine-yards.” the owner said, thanking what appeared to be a wizard by the sapphire raven kingdom robes.

“Yes, iron pellets in the cookies. Gets them every time. Usually dead by dawn, but you have a fighter here.” the wizard said proudly. Odysseus snuck around the corner to the back of the truck, still following the blood trail. He peered over, to see a steel and plastic crate, packed in the trailer. He gasped when he saw a wildling wreathing and coughing blood.

The wildling was the colour of hay and wood, and wore a worn cotton tunic. He also had bronze bands on his ankles, and in his messy hair. Odysseus felt a pain in his chest. It must be a type of fairy. Fairies are Morgan’s favourite. To see something that looked like a small boy, dyeing in a cage, made Odysseus nauseated. The wildling was probably the last one of the club that lived on the farm. Fairies can live forever; it is possible the wildlings had lived on the farm since its founding; But were discovered recently because they had gotten gutsy. Odysseus had heard wildlings were more destructive and annoying then dangerous. They were elemental lost boys. Emphasis on the ‘parent loathing wild little boy’ aspect. Odysseus had confiscated quite a few books about fairies from Morgan, during room searches; His morbid curiosity led him to skim them. Odysseus had never seen a wildling in person though; Probably because they avoid settled areas. The dyeing fey reminded Odysseus so much of his son, and disgust at the sight of near murder, he decided he had only one choice: release the fairy and heal it somehow.

Odysseus had no idea how to handle fey, as he had no magic training. He acted on instinct against his better judgment. Which is exactly the behavior that got him here. Odysseus opened the iron crate, grabbed the limp wildling, which was about the size of a ten-year-old boy, and ran off into the bluff. The horses were fine, he had done his job. Surely no one would be looking for him any time soon. Odysseus’s employees wouldn’t care if he took a little longer to return home after a long job, given it was a weekend. He was in the clear for a side mission of ethical importance. Or instinctive need to make up for the fact he as a terrible father, when confronted with a neotenous opportunity.

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[myanonymoushideouthole]

Icthya's to-do list:

light something expensive on fire

make it Orange's problem

???

profit

[myanonymoushideouthole]

this is why Icthya isn't allowed in the entomology labs anymore