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Synopsis: Banyan and Saahira have survived the guard's attempt on their lives, but it came at a terrible cost. The magic Saahira used is driving her mad, and only Banyan can see it. (~3,300 words)

Thank you to  DoomedSizeMarine for making the awesome thumbnail and  dtf for helping me edit this.

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“He may be a simple scribe now, but before becoming a knight I was but a simple bard traveling the lands. Should we let him live and someday grow into a threat, or slay him now and know we have saved ourselves the trouble?”

-Coda the Knight, “Tales of a Bardic Knight: Chapter 3. Rise of Lord Sofer”

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Trapped inside the dirt cellar surrounded by crates and sacks of grain, a blonde man frantically scribbles into a thick leather tome. His clammy hands can barely keep a grip on the feather quill while he concentrates on his writing. A ghostly orb of light floats near his head and illuminates the cave. It begins to dim as his writing slows down. Noticing this, the man looks up and waves a hand at the orb. It gets much brighter and floats above him, shining its rays down on his notebook. On the page is a circular diagram filled with the crazed raving of a madman. Alien symbols are etched into the circle. Some are furiously crossed out while others look older and untouched by his more recent writing.

“Come on! Why is this so difficult to remember? I was next to that damn ritual for hours and I can’t even memorize half of it!”

Banyan didn’t want to stay down here longer than necessary in case she got suspicious, but it seemed like every little thing topside was enough to distract him. He spent all of his free time attempting to recreate the spell Saahira used to sap the guard's lives away in a single evening.

It wasn’t going so well.

“The problem is the spell itself.” He pondered. “I was under the effects of it long enough to have my body and mind sapped. I acted irrationally, and I couldn’t even form complex thoughts. That might explain why the guards didn’t run once they realized what was happening.”

Banyan was back to his normal size and had his physical and magical strength returned with a little extra. Did that extra come from the souls of those guards? The thought practically made him retch. Luckily, this counterspell he was working on should return her to normal. Maybe the constant influence of the ritual was messing with her mind, and all he needed to do was destroy that accursed gem.

A loud series of bangs rang out above him. Thinking quickly, Banyan closed his journal and wrapped it up in a cloth. He placed the bundle in a nook in the wall and covered it by dropping a heavy box in front of it.

“At least I got some extra muscle out of all of this. Mercantilism does not lend itself to an active lifestyle like farming.”

Banyan climbed a set of squeaky stairs he remembered building himself years ago. He pushed open the trap door above him and climbed to the surface, revealing the familiar shop that he once called home. With a thought, the magical light floating behind him winked out before it could follow him up the stairs. The natural light coming through the windows was enough for him to see. An unfamiliar sight greeted him: A toady man holding a broom stood next to the cellar entrance waiting for him. He was rotund, with thick fingers adorned by rings of every color. His clothing screamed "noble," and had garish colors that were usually rare to find. Even in the cold of winter, he had a sheen of sweat across his forehead from working all day.

“Kramer. Thank you for your patience.”

The man scoffed. “Patience. Now there’s something I’ve had to get good at lately. I thought you were bad enough with your spell craft and flights of fancy to that woman of yours. But the people here have no respect for my time! They don’t even bother showing up when you’re in here.”

Kramer was a big city merchant. He didn't care about building a rapport with his customers or doing minuscule amounts of manual labor. Labor, he once told Banyan, is reserved for apprentices and servants. Even this bit of sweeping and stocking shelves was too much for the man.

“That guard Finlay promised me a sweet gig down here. He said this place would become a center of commerce for the kingdom and that I would own this shop and its inventory! Instead, I have to deal with you, a dying economy, and servant work!”

“A little sweeping and stacking shelves won’t kill you. I used to do that every single day you know.”

“Yes, of course. The hillbilly shop owner who is completely self-sufficient. What a wonderful tale.” The stout man waved his hands in the air in mock awe. “I didn’t think I would be apprenticing under a man who prefers playing around with magic to running his shop."

“Anyways,” he interrupted “the cellar is stocked with all the dry foods and essentials. We should be fine until the end of winter.”

Banyan made for the door, pulling his hood over his head.

“Off to your girlfriend’s house? Here, you forgot this.”

Kramer hefted a large sack of supplies from behind the counter and practically threw it into his arms.

“Gah! Thank you. It’s got the stuff I asked for, right?”

“What do you take me for? Of course it does! All the food you need, and those ‘spices’ you asked for. At the rate they charged me, they may as well have been spices y’know.”

Banyan held in a sigh of relief. The alchemical reagents he asked for weren’t easy to find but based on his research they were exactly what he needed. A host of basic things he would need to start his journey into alchemy.

“Thank you, Kramer. I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow. But it may be best if you keep them here for now.” Banyan opened the bag and fished out a few pouches he recognized. Copper dust, gold dust, mystical salts, and a few ounces of different types of animal fat.

Kramer rolled his eyes and leaned on the countertop. “Yeah yeah, just don’t blow up the town with your magic. I’ll hide your drugs in the cellar for you.”

Nodding his head, Banyan smoothly passed through the door with practiced ease. A ringing bell signaled his exit and the sun’s powerful rays did nothing to stop the chilly bite of winter from turning his face red. Ignoring the stares and the hushed whispers of the villagers, he quickly shuffled down the snow-covered road. He dreaded what lay at the end of that road.

The snowy trail leading out of town fought him the entire time. It gradually became harder to walk as the snow piled up around him. Even the famous timber that surrounded the village of Timber Plains didn’t help shield the earth from the snow.

Banyan crossed an invisible threshold and felt something ethereal pass through him. He froze and stepped back.

“That’s magic. That’s a lot of magic!”

He followed the trail of energy and observed its course. It appeared to stretch east of here and curve around the village in a complicated web of invisible rune-work. He didn’t have time to fully analyze it or even work out its purpose. If he stayed out too long, then she might get suspicious of him. Banyan reluctantly turned around and trudged toward his original destination.

---

The frigid winter wind hurt his uncovered face, and yet he still feared heading inside to warm up. He must have looked pathetic standing gingerly outside of the small cabin just staring at the door. Like a child who broke a rule but was too afraid to confront his parents, Banyan loitered in front of the quaint wooden door.

“Come on, just walk in. You’ve done this before.” He whispered to himself.

Banyan reached for the door, only for it to swing open on its own. That means she knows he’s here. Accepting his fate, he passed the threshold with his breath held. His eyes adjusted to the dark interior very quickly, and the smell of a home with a roaring fireplace temporarily put him at ease.

“You’re late again.” purred a voice to his left.

Banyan whipped his head around to the rocking chair in the corner. A menacing figure glared back at him. Anyone who had met Saahira before would almost fail to recognize her now: She still looked like a beautiful Lynx with a light coat of fur and golden eyes, but her body changed after the ritual. Her sculpted muscles were visible underneath her fur, and she was larger. Much larger. It was difficult to tell in this lighting, but the flickering flames gave her the impression of being at eye level with him even though he was standing.

“I don’t like it when you spend time in that village of bigots, Banyan. I know what they’re up to. They think they can hide it, but I’m wise to their ways.”

Her eyes glowed in the firelight and paralyzed him where he stood.

“What do you me-“

“I’m talking about their schemes!” she stood up and slammed her palms into the armrests of the chair and a series of sharp cracks rang out. The armrest splintered under her monstrous grip. “They tried and failed to kill us with those guards, and now they want to finish the job. It wouldn’t take much more than a mob with pitchforks to overwhelm us. You especially.”

“It doesn’t help that you don’t teach me many spells for defense.” he scolded in his head.

“If we didn’t need them to grow our food, I would just get rid of them. I have a plan though. We’ll strike them before they can even think about attacking us. And when we’re done there won’t be anyone who could stop us.”

The once diminutive Lynx shuffled across the floor and placed a hand on his shoulder. She stood a full head taller than him even after being returned to his full size. A crackle of hideous green energy snapped between her fingers. It was right next to his ear and made him jump, but her firm grip held him in place. Banyan didn't dare to rebel against this superior predator, but he did have enough sense to try and talk her out of doing something insane.

“Saahira, you can’t just attack people for what they might do. I know they’re not nice people and they haven’t treated you well, but they haven’t attacked you.” She looked like she was about to say something, but Banyan continued. “The guards don’t count. For all we know, they were acting on their own. If we hurt people because of what they might do then we would spend our entire lives fighting strangers! Besides, you said yourself that we need them to grow our food, right?”

The witch gave him no sign that she understood him. Her placid glare bore holes in his soul. Her once beautiful golden orbs felt more appropriate on a beast than a rational creature. This was the hell that Banyan had to deal with for the past month or so: The charming woman he once knew became this monster. Trying to convince her of something she had her mind set on was like trying to persuade a brick wall.

Her oversized hand slid to his head and cupped his chin, pulling up his head to look into her glowing eyes. “You’re mine now, little merchant. Can’t you see that everything I’ve done has been to protect you? I've taught you spells to defend yourself, magic to occupy your mind, and I've promised to deal with everything and everyone that could hurt you." Her grip on his chin grew uncomfortably tight. "I keep my promises."

“Isn’t this enough?” he squeaked. “We have a defense thanks to the gem, and you’re strong enough to fend off a hoard of villagers, right?”

“They have too much power over us! What if they decide to stop selling us food? What if they poison it? No amount of power could stop them from starving us. It’s the same reason castles are made to be self-sufficient: If the enemy is standing at the gate, we need to defend ourselves from every angle. But if we want to stop them from attacking in the first place, we need to take them out before they mount an offense.”

Banyan wanted so badly to argue. He wanted to deconstruct her argument so she would finally see the truth of the matter, but it wouldn’t change anything. She wrapped her oversized arm around his neck and pulled him in close to her body. He could feel her heartbeat hammer against his head, and the electrical charge of her magic tickled his skin.

“No more arguing with me. The apprentice should not argue with his master. Now then, tomorrow I am teaching you about transmutation. You need all the energy you can get so let’s go to bed.”

Saahira gave him no time to argue. She simply grabbed his hand and pulled him into her bedroom. They changed into their nightgowns, and the Lynx picked him up and threw him onto her bed. Saahira wrapped herself and the blanket around Banyan, cocooning him with her body. Their nightly ritual complete, Banyan struggled to sleep under the beast that claimed him in mind, body, and soul.

---

“What’s up with gold, anyway? Why is it always used in stories about powerful wizards? Why do dragons hoard it in the old tales?”

Banyan sat dutifully at the table with his notes. These were the ones that he was comfortable letting Saahira know about. They contained inoffensive scribblings about harmless concepts. Spells that made cleaning easier, rituals to increase crop yields, and cantrips that acted like party favors at best.

“Have you ever considered,” she lectured, “that gold is magic? What use does a dragon have for a precious metal when they don’t participate in the local economy or use technology? You’ve heard of wizards wearing a vault worth of enchanted jewelry on them at all times. This is because gold and gems increase the power of any magical energy it is subjected to. You were witness to this phenomenon yourself when you gave me the gem. I used it to amplify the effects of the ritual circle so it could encompass the entire cabin. Without it, the effect would not have propagated farther than the circle itself.”

Banyan kept his face impassive but was reeling internally at this implication.

“Gold and gemstones cut in a specific way represent a kind of purity that mortals cannot attain. This purity allows us to temporarily gain the power of the gods by emulating their perfect souls.”

He had mostly tuned out during the theological lesson. Saahira's people were very spiritual, and it showed in her teaching methods. Every spell came with an allegory or lesson about the nature of the gods, spirits, and the universe. Banyan gave up a long time ago on most gods. If a cleric asked him which god he primarily worshipped, he might jokingly reply by saying that the only god that actually existed was money.

“…and that’s why we enchant metals instead of stone. It latches on easier to more pure metals.”

“What about the dragons? Where did they go?”

Saahira blinked, then smacked her lips before answering. "We don't know. Nobody knows where they came from. All we knew was that they were beings of incredible power and intelligence. They knew magic beyond the ken of mortals, but they were a bit below the gods. They hoarded precious metals to accrue more power for unknown purposes. One day they all disappeared. Some had been killed by the ‘lesser’ races before then though.”

“I’m guessing the dragons were alchemists then. They would have wanted to turn lead to gold if it was so important to them.”

“Good catch! Yes, most dragons augmented their power with alchemy to create more gold out of materials deemed useless to their cause. What they didn’t realize was that those useless metals they made their servants gather were turned into weapons. Those same servants picked up their table scraps and used it all to drive them out. Once the dragons didn’t have civilizations to support them, they disappeared. Now then, let's discuss the exact properties of solids, liquids, gasses, and dust."

Banyan mentally prepared himself for another lecture. At this point, he would prefer to fight a dragon than listen to this for another five hours.

---

Saahira’s session ended with an interesting note about alchemical dust: If Banyan could combine some of the “spices” he ordered through Kramer, he could create a loop that usurps the flow of its magic and make the ritual collapse on itself. Very strong rituals won’t be affected unless he integrates it while they’re being made, and he needs access to the catalyst, but he can subvert weaker rituals very easily. That’s what he would do: He would destroy that ritual under the cabin, and it would hopefully end Saahira’s madness. Banyan trudged past the eerie sensation outside the town. He would see about doing something about that too.

The snow-covered town’s usually dreary atmosphere was even worse thanks to the constant blanket of snow that poured down on it. Luckily, there was no wind pushing him away from his destination. Banyan fought through hills of powder until he felt the familiar sensation of magic emanating from the earth below him. Getting on his knees, Banyan shoveled snow with his gloved hands until his fingers began hurting. He stood up and threw his hands into his trousers to warm them up.

“Oh, to hell with this.”

Once his fingers thawed, Banyan pulled out one hand and aimed an open palm at the ground he was shoveling. Concentrating on a deep feeling in his chest, Banyan pulled at his primal magic and willed it to move in a specific pattern. It took him four whole heartbeats, but a bolt of fire sprang from his palm and exploded at his feet. The melted snow formed a watery crater that melded with the surrounding snow. Frustrated but not done, Banyan aimed again and fired another bolt at the ground. Once again, the area lit up with his magical flames and the crater grew larger.

“At least the one good spell she taught me is useful here.”

Banyan knelt again and tried to feel out the magical runes etched into the ground. This was another skill he had had to learn on his own. Saahira taught him the basics of feeling magic in the air, in objects, and himself. But when he asked about runes and rituals, she refused to teach him. Probably for the same reason she didn't teach him any offensive spells aside from the firebolt. Any weapon he had was something he could use to rebel against her. He spread his senses into the runes and ran his magic down each one at a careful pace. Every individual symbol had a purpose, and their connection to the next and previous symbols defined how the spell functioned. It didn’t take him long to figure out a pattern and discern what it did. Still, he went over it again and again hoping the result would tell him something different. He pleaded for it to be different the third time, but the results were the same. Banyan fell on his back and let out a deep breath he had been holding. Snow-covered his ears and fell on his face and all he could do was look up at the sky and despair.

“She’s gonna shrink the entire village. Gods, she’s gonna kill them all.”

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