Nimue

The magician and the huntress hurried through the forest as the storm lashed the trees and cracked the sky above. Although the raindrops soaked the magician and battered the brim of his hat, they seemed to be taking pains to avoid even brushing the huntress. When they arrived at the arch of the tower ruin, he was exhausted, while she showed barely a sign of fatigue.

“Are you alright?” coughed the magician, slumping against a pillar.

“Thanks to you,” answered the huntress, sitting beside him. “What is this place?”

His eyes could see through time, what this place was and what it would be, from an exquisitely furnished nobleman's folly to a hollow wreck punched through by branches, home only to beasts and ghosts.

“Home to a couple, for a short time,” he whispered. “Lovers, before tragedy befell them.”

They were almost nose to nose, breathing heavily, exhilarated by the run and the weather. The magician felt himself magnetised to her. He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, but she put a finger on his lips and pushed him playfully away.

“How will I know you haven't stolen my will unless I say no?” she asked.

“You know, because I want you to love me back.”

“I wish I could do what you do. Root out safe places, deflect the rain. Unravel the past.”

The magician snatched the moonlight from the sky and let it flutter like a moth in his hand. He seemed to regard it sadly for a moment, then released it.

“You shall,” he smiled. “Let me show you.”

The wind roared, the rain drummed, and all through the night the wizard told his secrets, unfurling his arcane power like a flower for the bees. With every hidden art he revealed to her, the more he seemed depleted, somehow less of himself. For her he called the birds, stilled the air and grew the vines into ropes. He taught her to track a deer by its aura, to read the voices of a person's mind, and to pull the strings of a person's heart. With a single secret left, but no strength left in his body, he fell asleep in her arms.

Waking, he found himself on the cold stone floor. The huntress stood outside the tower, watching him through the door. He heaved himself up and staggered towards her, but found the doorway invisibly sealed.

“A shame,” said the hunter, just out of reach. “These eyes see so many things, but you may as well have been blind.”

The magician smiled a sad smile. “Oh, Nimue,” he whispered. “I saw this a long time ago. I've seen the future, and I've never once been able to change its course. I could never hope to change my fate, and I would never seek to change you. I just hoped you loved me back.”