Eventually Gerrest and Vynera crossed paths, high up in a mountain. Not enough time had passed to allow him to mistake Vynera for anyone else. His eyes were dark and arrogant as he looked down on her from his taller height. Vynera looked back up at him with nothing but hate in her eyes. Gerrest wasn’t the least bit intimidated or even mildly worried; he simply laughed.
“I see you’ve finally made a little something of yourself. I’m surprised your petty mind has brought you this far, Vynera.”
“There’s only a handful of us left. I’d hardly call that petty. Even you have to admit that, Gerrest,” Vynera spat the words.
“I don’t have to admit anything, but I will admit that your anger makes you far more beautiful a thing,” Gerrest returned, reaching out to touch the bottom of Vynera’s lips with a thumb. But Vynera ducked away, not wanting him to touch her. “I’m far too powerful for you. Why don’t you give up now? You could marry some nice, simple fellow and settle down. I might even let you live long enough to have kids.”
“Never! I can beat you, and I will. I’ll prove that I’m not petty.” In her anger Vynera didn’t realize that she was on the verge of proving the opposite with her words.
“If you insist on fighting me, then I’ll be charitable and give you a sporting chance. I’ll let you go for now, but next time we meet, it will be curtains for you, and your little melodrama,” Gerrest said with another laugh. In seconds he disappeared, leaving Vynera alone on the mountain with nothing but the wind and rocks to hear her scream of rage. When she felt calm enough, she returned home and redoubled her efforts. It wasn’t enough to just beat Gerrest, she had to do it definitively, and for that, she had to be prepared. Her mind poured over a variety of punishments she could heap on his head. Deep down she realized that he was goading her, and that she had fallen into a trap even more insidious than their false romance had been. But she couldn’t make herself back out now; there weren’t enough pieces of her heart to put back together. Revenge was her only way forward, or so she believed.
Seasons passed before Vynera and Gerrest met again, this time in a largely untouched valley. The trees were in blossom again, and the grass was littered with the ones that had fallen from the branches. Vynera could see the smirk on Gerrest face, even as she approached him. Any nervousness she had felt over her plan evaporated at the sight of his smug features; an expression she wished to erase permanently. But she forced herself to be calm. Slowly she walked up to him, confident in her abilities to best him. Myriad punishments that she had considered flashed through her mind, but she knew what she was going to do.
“I can see that you’re foolish enough to try both my skills and my patience. Your last chance is up, and now you’ll face my full powers. Prepare yourself!”
“Oh, but Gerrest, I came all this way just to tell you something,” said Vynera with sweetness, hands clasped behind her back.
“What can you say now that would possibly interest me?”
“Don’t be such a spoil sport; it’s not kind to underestimate me.”
“Oh, very well, I suppose I can humor you as a last request. After all, you did entertain me for a short while.”
Vynera almost bit her own tongue over that, but she kept her expression vacant, forcing herself to continue to play the role she practiced.
“Come closer; it’s a bit of a secret and your ear is too high up for me to whisper it from here.”
“Fine, but your stalling will do no good,” Gerrest said, languidly bending down so Vynera could reach his ear. She moved closer, placing her lips close to the side of his face. He expected her to beg, to plead, and the thought pleased him, almost as much as the thought of denying her request did.
“I’m not going to lose to you, now or ever, you fool!” Her words were soft and sweet, yet they were harsh and poisonous at the same time as they slipped between her teeth. Before Gerrest could move away, or even react, she had blown the powder she had been hiding in her sleeves into his face. Coughing violently, Gerrest backed away from her. “Oh, what’s wrong? Has the great Wizard caught a cold?” Vynera’s tone was still sweet, but now it was mocking.
“What have you done to me?”
“You don’t look so good; you’re turning green. Oh no! I forgot you don’t like my petty transformation magic, do you?” Gerrest opened his mouth to speak again, but the only thing that escaped was a feeble croak, his gaping mouth splitting open even further. His eyes began to bulge out, not from mere surprise, but from the powerful spell that was slowly overcoming his body. His nose began to shrink, blending into the rest of his face, and his hair started to fall out. More miserable croaks came from his ever widening mouth. His whole body started folding in on itself, and his hands and feet became webbed, while his skin had become quite green and slimy.
“My, my, my, where did Gerrest get to?” Vynera asked, putting a finger up to her cheek in a mock gesture of wonderment. Another croak came from the ground. Looking down, Vynera saw a bright green frog, sitting on the ground, the color bold against the pale blossom petals. The critter blinked back at her. Kneeling down, Vynera picked it up, holding it in her hand, level with her eyes. “So, that’s where you got to. Not so mighty now, are we? Actually, I think you’re much better looking this way. Come along now, I have a special place prepared for you.” The frog only shuddered and tried to hop away, but her fingers held it in place. Somewhat carelessly, Vynera dropped the frog into a pouch fastened at her belt, and returned to her lair. Once there, she went to a room with a large, glass cage. Pulling the frog that used to be Gerrest out of the pouch, she placed him down in the terrarium.
“I’d like you to meet my pet. I haven’t fed him at all today, so he might be a little hostile.” A loud hiss came from the cage, followed by a very startled and panicked croak. Trying to hop away on feeble little legs, the frog only made it a short distance before being swallowed whole by a long white snake. Laughing, Vynera carefully picked up the serpent. “Rot in peace, Gerrest. I won’t bother you, and my dear pet is quite content to leave you where you are. In the end, you got what you deserved, for I can think of no place lower than a snake’s belly.” Vynera gave a little squeeze to the slight bulge in the sleek serpent’s form. Kissing the nose of the snake fondly, she lowered it back into its tank to digest. She knew it would take a while for the snake to finish its meal; she had tampered a little with its digestive system to make sure that the death was drawn out.
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Even though Vynera had defeated Gerrest, joining the fight had put a target on her back. The other rogue wizards were aware of her now, and she couldn’t slip easily back into obscurity. If she didn’t finish what had been started, she wouldn’t last long enough to savor her victory. Although she didn’t see herself as ambitious, she couldn’t silent the call of power and had precious little morality left to stay her hand from continuing in the path of destruction. Continuing to create all manner of twisted creatures, she spread them out over the land, staking her claim village by village, ruin by ruin. Opponents were crushed with no remorse. But in time, her creations stopped returning to report back, and by pulling on the threads of magic, she discovered that they were being destroyed. But, no one advanced against her. Becoming suspicious, she set out herself to divine what was happening.
After spying around for a while, she discovered who was putting a stop to her evil creatures. To her dismay, she found it to be Menym, the kindly wizard who had taught her the skills of her first calling. She hadn’t seen him since he departed years ago to look for more students, and hadn’t though of him once during her feverish pursuit of revenge. As twisted as she had become from sinking into the darkest of magics, she had no desire to kill him. But it was too late for her to stop. The grip of power was too strong on her heart, the tendrils of rage had woven tightly through her veins. It wasn’t a desire to rule, or even destroy, the land, but simply to hold it, to show that she was stronger than anyone else. Neither the fear, nor adoration, of the people meant anything to her; she didn’t need people to cower, or fawn over her. She only needed to know that her potential could carry her the distance.
Abandoning the use of live creatures, Vynera turned to necromancy to create an army of the undead. But they were easily vanquished during the day; Menym had gathered the scattered survivors and helped them hunt down the abominations. Stretching her powers further, she created a spell of thick clouds that rendered the sky almost as dark as night. Her hordes of undead scoured the land until Menym found a way to banish the spell. For any move Vynera made, Menym had a counter. He had been silent during most of the chaos, but now he was acting with his full power. Vynera knew when she was beaten. Even still, she didn’t wish to kill the wizard, and she couldn’t bear to give up. So she took a third option.
Vynera ceased creating creatures, cutting ties with them, setting them lose in the countryside, and once again buried herself deep in her lair, preparing herself for the next spell she would cast. Even the most powerful of wizards could only expand their life a certain amount, and most didn’t choose to go the route that would give them the maximum lifespan. However, there were a few ways to work around this, and Vynera happened to know one such method. It was risky, certainly, but it let her make time her ally, rather than her enemy. First, she had to set up enough wards and dampening magic to hide her intentions, otherwise the final spell would do her little good.
Menym had already been an old wizard when he trained Vynera; she knew his years were numbered, though there was little way to tell how limited they would be. It was a safe estimate that after a hundred years, he would be gone. Taking a calculated risk, Vynera brewed a potion to put her in a deep, ageless sleep. It wouldn’t wear off until a century went by, but the exact number of years past that would be unknown; by the time she woke up, her name and deeds would become stories, faded by flawed human memory. During her rest she would be undetectable by magic. Her home was carefully hidden, both by magical and mundane means. When everything was prepared to her satisfaction, she locked herself in a room in the deepest dungeon, and drank the potion, slipping into a dreamless sleep, so heavy that even intense pain would not wake her.
For a couple years after Vynera’s final spell the people were still living in a world of oppression. Fear kept them hidden away, worrying about what the next day would bring. Finally they realized the absence of monsters and evil spells. Things were going back to normal. Slowly the land came out of its oppression. Even though he was exhausted from the magical battles, Menym helped bring the people back into the open. There was a lot of cleaning up to do; the surrounding kingdoms were in shambles, the people scattered and broken. But he rallied them together, making use of the skills they had to start to rebuild. He knew Vynera still lived, somewhere, but he couldn’t trace her. Each other competitor had left a mark in the magical forces when they died, but he had felt no such tremor from her. He couldn’t guess what she was doing, so he was determined to use the respite to the best of his abilities.
Meynm traveled from town to tattered town, teaching and reassuring people the best he could. Some of these people banded together with him, feeling they could serve other people better by going with him. Now, more than before, he was searching for other magic users, though he was much stricter with his teaching. Magic had nearly torn the known world apart, and it was in too fragile a state to risk such a thing again. Along with teaching healing and defensive magic, Menym rounded up anyone he could that was willing to teach more mundane methods of fighting. The group that traveled with him helped herald in a new era of peace, as they vanquished the remaining terrors left over from the magic battles. What Vynera hadn’t realized was that she had been the last rogue wizard standing; all remaining opposition had been coming from Menym himself.
As Menym’s group of travelers expanded, they started to splinter into smaller bands, hoping to cover more ground that way. With everything so torn, people were encouraged to take what they could find and band together in a central location. They set up camps and started building a new capitol, a shining beacon from which to usher in a new era of prosperity. For the first critical years after Vynera’s sleep, the people were industrious and motivated, shedding a lot of their petty vices to grab a new life with both hands. Traumatized by their losses, yet grateful to still be alive, there was little time, or inclination, for squabbles and disputes over small matters.
Built along the boarders of several smaller nations, to symbolize unity, the new capitol was named Ivelcour, the principle building made of shining white stone. There was a large clamor for Menym to lead, to become a new king, but he declined. He knew he was old, and running close to the end of his life; there wasn’t time for him to either come up with a system of governing, nor to produce a steady heir to take over. But he did accept a position as the head of an advisory council to help whomever was chosen. In addition to building structures, emphasis was put on teaching others and stockpiling defensive weaponry. Although the people were no longer living in fear, there was a wariness they all shared, a reluctance to re-experience the past.
As things started to settle, and Ivelcour became prosperous and stable, the people began to relax a little. A new generation was ushered in: bright eyed babies that had never known true terror grew into toddlers, then children, seeing the world as a safe place. And though their parents and teachers told them of the dark past they had emerged from, they were only stories; the scars were not on their hearts. Menym still believed in goodness, but he distrusted innocence. Perhaps if Vynera had been less innocent, she wouldn’t have broken so badly, and it was his deep regret that he left her when he did. If he hadn’t, the world might have been spared a bit of its pain. On the other hand, maybe she would have just been another victim, and the end results would have been the same. For all his power, he couldn’t tell the future, nor re-write the past.