An Undesirable Visit
She checked everything twice. Magic was so fickle these days. She remembered when all she needed was to snap her fingers, or even think about a spell, and it worked.
Damned humans. It was all their fault. What they didn’t understand, they destroyed. It angered here. If at least they had had an inkling of what they were doing, she could direct her fury against them. But no, they had been weakening magic for centuries, by the simple method of not believing in it any longer and relying on their technology.
Damn them. Now she was forced to go back to using a laboratory, to creating potions with ridiculous names, and to hope the land still retained enough energy. She had to wear amulets instead of trusting her own powers.
The bubbling liquid in the phial she had in the fire turned green. It was done. She wore her gloves, hating every moment of it, and grabbed her medium-sized tweezers. Carefully, she lifted the phial.
“Hello, Morgaine.”
Startled, she dropped the phial. It broke, and the green liquid seeped between the paving stones amidst a tiny cloud of vapour.
“No!” she screamed. She spun, her face redder than her hair. “You…!”
“Sorry?” a man perched on her second table said. But his grin said he didn’t regret anything. Of course he didn’t.
“That took me weeks to finish!”
“You can do it again. You have time.”
The cheek of the man. If only he was a man, she thought. That was the problem, wasn’t it?
“What do you want?” Morgaine said, turning around. But she knew what he wanted.
“Have you considered my offer?”
“I have,” she said. She grabbed her broom. Better to clean the mess as soon as possible.
“And?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Was that a twitch in his smile? Even a tiny one? She decided it was, and called it a small victory.
“The offer won’t be open forever, you know,” he said.
Was there a hint of threat in his voice? Or simple disappointment?
“I assumed so, yes,” she said. “However, I stand by what I said: I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“Hm. Funny that. Anyone would jump at the opportunity to recover her past glory, I’d say.”
“I’m not anyone.”
“Oh, no, you are not!” his smile broadened. “You are Morgaine, no longer the Fey.”
Her knuckles went white around her broom. She thought of hitting him with it, entirely for her own benefit. But she calmed down: she hadn’t got here, she hadn’t outlived so many enemies, by making rash decisions she’d later regret.
“That may be,” she said, and straightened. “Yet I was a queen once. And I’ll keep my own counsel, if you don’t mind. There are many aspects to your… offer I still need to ponder.”
He sprang off the table.
“As you wish,” he said. “But be aware: don’t take too long, Morgaine. Or when you come knocking at my door, you’ll find it closed and locked. And you’ll never get your power back.”
“I’ll take that into account,” she mumbled.
“Very well. Be seeing you,” he said.
“Excuse me if I don’t accompany you to the door…” she said, but he was gone.
Morgaine stared at the spot he had been in, then to the remains of liquid on her floor.
Her face went white, her eyes pure black.
Rage pounding on her temples, she hurled her broom against a cabinet. Its contents spilled, glasses and vases broken.
She roared, and pounded the table with both hands.
She stopped, her curls falling on her face. A single tear fell down her cheek.
“Damned Loki. Damned, damned Loki.”
This is my story for this week’s prompt from Wording Wednesday, a writing group on MeWe. It’s also the fourth chapter in my own series… here are chapters 1, 2 and 3.
I have a vague idea where the series is going, but after all, I’m a pantser at heart, so we’ll see where it really ends up.
