by Stanny
One day this story might start with once upon a time there was magic in this world until it was lost. Or it might start with once upon a time there was a lot less magic in this world than now. At this point in time, it is difficult to say which one it might turn out to be. The magic is still there and while it used to be more it’s not (yet?) gone. As a matter of fact, it actually can’t disappear completely. Sure, it might go dormant, but complete disappearance? No matter what happens, there will always be a chance for it to come back. But don’t worry, we’re not quite there yet. Right now, magic is wandering. There is an old poem: “Not all those who wander are lost”[1] and magic is very much not lost. The poem goes on to say “Deep roots are not reached by the frost”1 and just like how the roots don’t die on us and their tree can grow again, so can magic come back. For while it might be lost one day, everything lost can be found again. But once again, we’re not there yet. We’re wandering at this moment. I’m saying we are wandering, but that is not true, is it? We are comfortably sitting in front of our computers, inside our houses. So, allow me to tell you about someone who is actually wandering.
Her name is Allium, she is one of the spirits that… used to not walk this world, to be honest. The spirits used to live in one place, never leaving and always there. They take care of their little spots in the world and they do so well. Their forests bring forward the biggest trees that no storm can bring down, their fields grow the richest crops. Their animals are well-fed, their plants grow strong and everyone lives side by side in harmony. That is how it used to be before the changing of times. Before they started to wander. Have you ever seen a field with healthy crops even if it hasn’t rained enough in a while? There is a spirit there. In contrast, a forest whose trees are dying in the heat and you can freely walk in between the trees, no underbrush hindering your way? There might have been a spirit once, but it isn’t there now. No one knows why the spirits started to leave their forests and fields or even when they started, but the consequences are difficult to miss.
Enough about that, let’s come back to Allium, shall we? I can’t tell you why she left her forest, but I can tell you a little bit about it, based on her appearance. You see, her wings (not every spirit has them but enough that it’s not an unusual sight) look like those of a common morpho. Not exactly of course, both sides are blue in her case. Accordingly, her forest had to have been in the tropical rainforest, somewhere in South America or maybe Central America. Sadly, that is all I can tell you about her forest. She herself doesn’t talk about it anymore. Maybe she is one of those whose forest burned down? Back in the day, the spirits used to stay anyway and let everything regrow but maybe? I can only speculate and does it matter now? Point is, she left. At one point she must have gone to a forest filled with wild garlic, she still smells like it. I can’t say I’m particularly fond of that smell, but I guess she must be. How else could she have managed to stay there long enough for the smell to still cling to her even after leaving? The fact that she stayed so long and left anyway does make one curious, doesn’t it? I’d love to ask her, but the spirits do not speak our language.
Maybe if I could understand her she would tell me about how the world used to be and her travels in the newer one? She’d talk about how blessings of unicorns roamed the land and kelpies the sea. About a murder of crows that once helped her find the youngest member of a pride of lions. And I’d ask her confused, “But crows and lions don’t live in the same place?” and she’d laugh at me and tell me about how the world used to be so much smaller. And then she’d tell me about the pied crow and I’d realize that this part of her story could have been recent. It is not, of course, but it could have been. Albus, she’d call her favourite pied crow and I’d have to stop and wonder. Wonder how old Allium really is. Was it her who named them or did she use the name someone else already came up with? Did somebody witness Allium calling after Albus and then saw a pied crow arriving and decided that this must be its name or were they already called Corvus Albus and she continued using that name? Of course, I’d ask her, but I don’t think her answer would be satisfactory. She’d probably just look at me equally confused and tell me something like “That is his name. That is their name. It would be rude to change it now, don’t you agree?” and I don’t understand. The lion cub was fine, by the way. She just loved to play hide and seek and apparently was very proud of herself for doing so well. This one’s name was Queen.
Moreover, she’d tell me about dragons and her tone would change. Her voice would get sadder and she wouldn’t quite look at me anymore. Her gaze would wander around, never stopping at one place too long, her hands fiddling with the hem of her dress. It would be then that I first realize that her beautiful blue gown is slightly burned at the edges. There is a story to be told there.
To my mind she would start with the different types of dragons (some have four wings, some don’t have wings at all. Some don’t have legs, others have eight. Some even have multiple heads, but they all have at least one) and common misconceptions (“No, they don’t hoard gold, what are they even supposed to do with that? It’s cold and hard and too rare for all of them” “It’s pretty!”, I’d protest). I think we would be quiet after. If it weren’t for her sad voice I wouldn’t have thought more about it and moved on to the next question, like I did with the unicorns earlier (as it turns out, not every unicorn is white). Like this I’m asking myself wether I should move on and spare her having to talk about this or if I should give in to my curiosity and ask her more questions. This is when she starts telling me about Vola. Vola was a young female dragon. One of the no legs and two wings and one head type- they are called Amphiptere, apparently. Vola had a grey colouring with some purple accents on her neck and the top of her wings. She also had eggs. Eggs, which are now lost. “What happened?” I want to ask her, but it feels wrong somehow. This is not my story and who am I to drag something like this up again? Something so obviously sad? She tells me anyway. Not directly and not in that many words, but the story is indeed a sad one.
It goes as follows: Dragons are only able to breathe fire when they have children, and they only do so to protect them. It is not for attacking, it is a defence technique. With one big disadvantage. Well, two, technically. First, fire is very destructive and once a fire is started it probably won’t stop for a bit. Second, if a dragon is using fire, you know for sure that there is a child nearby. What someone does with that information heavily depends on the person but in this case… let’s shorten the story here a bit and just say Allium is searching for Volas eggs and Vola is not able to help her.
For those, who desire a bit more information let just say that there was a hunter. A hunter that was greedy and knows the value of a dragon egg. For you see, dragon eggs can be used for a multitude of things. Sometimes they get eaten, sometimes they are just put on shelves to be admired. Occasionally they allow the eggs to hatch and try to tame the hatchling. Don’t worry- dragons can’t be tamed. The people that try to go this route and use the dragon for their own deed always find a violent end. But back to the hunter. The hunter managed to find Vola during one of her flights and attacked her, provoking her into spewing fire at him. Allium tells me that the hunter, whose name she never bothered to learn, probably didn’t plan to steal the eggs but instead just wanted Vola. Vola who was a kind and gentle creature that let the hunter live for too long. Just long enough for him to kill her, find the eggs and run away, but not long enough to make it to safety and sell the eggs. Allium found the man near the river, still in her forest. Badly injured, close to death but most importantly without the eggs. I wonder if Allium tried to help him or if she just let him die, she didn’t answer me when I asked. That tells you something, doesn’t it? The hunter didn’t tell her where her eggs ended up and so she left her spot to get them back.
What does that tell us? Not all those who wander are lost, but sometimes they are searching for someone (or multiple someones) that are indeed lost. As a result, they are visiting many new places and meeting many new creatures. Sometimes they stay at a place for a little while longer and adapt a few new characteristics, but sooner or later they go on to a new place until one day, what they are searching for is found and they can finally settle down again. Maybe Allium will go back home, wherever that is, or she will find a new forest, a new spot to settle down. There are certainly enough places now that have been abandoned by spirits. I like to think that she found her dragon eggs on a mountain pass, hidden in a cave. Left alone but ultimately safe. One day, these eggs will hatch and Allium will take care of them, the way she used to take care of Vola and her forest. That mountain pass and the forest surrounding it will be her new spot and everything will turn out to be alright. Maybe I can meet her again and she introduces me to her hatchlings? One of them will look exactly like their mother, another one exactly like the father (I think, I don’t know what the dad looks like. But they must have gotten their looks somewhere, right?) and the rest are a mixture of both parents. The hatchlings are happy and joyful, uncaring or unaware of the hardships the world threw at them. They like to play pranks on Allium and Allium just laughs at them and plays along with everything. She will tell them her stories like she told me and her forest will grow. And maybe, just maybe, that will be where magic comes back.
But alas, I cannot talk to her and we will never know why she is wandering.
About the author:_ Stanny is a daydreamer with aphantasia, who rarely ever bothers to write out those little mind stories. If one of these stories does find their way out of the mind, it could look like this.
[1] The poem is “Riddle of Strider” by Tolkien
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