They left Library Market Square with the Butcher’s black metal ring and specific instructions on how it should be used to make someone forget. Complete with magic phrase and all.

Dolly complained, “This is the dumbest idea.”

Igraine said, “Well, you didn’t have any ideas.”

“So what? This isn’t about you.”

“Burton threatened the two of us, and now I might be on his list of people he considers fair game.”

Dolly tugged at her elbow and looked her square in the eye and spoke without a noticeable accent.

“Not if you put this all behind you.”

Igraine did not take this suggestion well. After all, she had come to Dolly for help in returning to normalcy. Somehow, Igraine remained civil.

“Can’t exactly do that, now can I.”

Dolly’s voice returned to the sweetened drawl, “Sure you can, darling,” and then she held out her hand with the black metal ring. “All you have to do is forget it ever happened.”

That morning, Igraine had set out to find a way to escape from a past that involved magic. Two types of magic, to be specific. The first kind was an unknown magic that had subjected her close friend to a gruesome and deadly curse. The second kind was dark magic, which offered an immediate benefit but involved an obligation to do something terrible.

She didn’t think this ring fell into either of those two types of magic, which suggested to her that the ring was a third kind. The two types of magic she knew about had rules, and disobeying those rules had consequences. When it came to Dolly’s suggestion of using it on herself, Igraine was eager to distrust the ring.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, the Butcher said we should only use it on Burton.”

Dolly waved the objection aside. “It’s the best idea you’ll ever forget.”

“No. I’m trying to heal. Not forget.”

There was a brief moment of guilt for Igraine. The words were the right ones, but she didn’t feel their meaning. Then she worried about whether Dolly picked up on her insecurity. To reinforce her point, she nodded in a small repetitive motion.

“Alright,” Dolly put the ring back in her purse and pulled out her phone, which had been ringing on silent. Actual silent mode.

“It’s the same person. I’ve really got to take this. Could you give me some privacy? I’ll be done in two shakes of a cottontail.”

Igraine didn’t know what that meant, but she needed a break from Dolly’s company. She ran into a nearby stand in the market that sold reprinted retro magazines. Someone had figured out people still enjoyed reading magazines, especially historically significant ones. They just didn’t enjoy getting their news from them. About half in the stand were counterfeits, easy to spot because of the granular font of the text. The authentic reprints were clear, professional, and updated with a few current ads.

After she maxed out the socially acceptable browsing time allowance, she went back to check on Dolly. Her phone was put away, and she was gazing up at the library. Almost like a tourist.

“Ready?” Igraine asked.

Dolly’s gaze went from the library to Igraine without a spark of recognition. “Do I know you?”.

Dolly was clutching her purse while trying not to appear as if she were clutching her purse. And on one of those fingers tightly gripping the white purse was the ring that had been meant for Burton Maurer.

“Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“No. No. No.”

“Am I in some kind of trouble?”

Dolly was genuinely worried, and Igraine didn’t know what to do. Maybe there was a reverse switch of some kind. She had two choices. Take her back to the Butcher or take her to the only other person who would think this was ordinary.

“Let’s get you to Viktor’s. He’ll know what to do.”

“I don’t know if I should. I think I’m waiting for someone.”

“Who?”

“I can’t recall at the moment.”

“It’s me. You were waiting for me. You took a call—”

“A call, honey, I don’t own a cell phone. I’m not rich.”

And then the phone vibrated from in her purse. Dolly, with unblinking eyes, pulled out the phone and stared at the screen that said in enormous letters, “Incoming Call.”

Dolly turned to Igraine and asked, “Is Viktor nice?”

A breath of relief escaped Igraine, and she held Dolly’s hand to lead her away.

“He’s your ex-husband.”

Dolly laughed. “I’ve never been married.”