Quaraun paused. The thought of his mother, seemed to pain him. He became visibly upset.

"Did they?"

"Teach me magic? No. It was a trap. An ambush. The priests turned out to be Thullids. ZooLock in fact."

"ZooLock! ZooLock the Great?"

"Yes."

"Protector of the innocent? Defeater of Oolong the Stupid?"

"Yes." Quaraun rolled his eyes. "That ZooLock."

"You've actually met him?"

"Yes."

"Wow!"

"A fan of his?"

"Isn't everyone?"

"No." Quaraun's voiced seethed with loathing at the thought of ZooLock.

"He's like, like. . . I don't know, he's like the most famous monk ever."

"Yes. I do believe he is. And he kept me prisoner for thousands of years."

"What? I thought you were 750 years old?"

"Quaraun is."

"Aren't you Quaraun?"

"Quaraun died centuries ago."

"I don't understand. I thought. . ."

"Quaraun's mother took him to a group of priests, to school him in magic. But it was a trap. An ambush. The priests turned out to be Thullids. ZooLock was on the run. He'd kidnapped The Sacred Pink JellyFish."

"She died didn't she?"

"The Scared Pink JellyFish?"

"Yeah."

"No. Quaraun did. The Elf died. But I still live."

"Aren't you Quaraun?"

"No. I'm The Sacred Pink JellyFish."

"You're the Sacred Pink JellyFish?"

"Yes."

"How can you be? You're an Elf."

"ZooLock ripped opened the Elfling's skull and put me inside. I ate Quaraun's brain. He died a horrible death, that I might live. If he was The Chosen One, he died before anyone had a chance to find out for certain. But there was something different about him. That's why ZooLock chose him for my host. I was able to grown and reach my full potential with his body. Something I could not have done in another Elf."

"So you are a Thullid?"

"Yes. I am a Thullid."

"Your the Thullid Goddess, The Sacred Pink JellyFish?"

"Yes."

"And that's why you can do magic, no one else can do?"

"Exactly."

"So, you do Thullid magic, because you are a Thullid?"

"Yes."

"So than, Quaraun is Demon Possessed?"

"How do you come by that logic?"

"Well, aren't Thullids, Demons? And aren't you living inside the body of an Elf, controlling his mind and thoughts and body?"

"Yes. This is all true."

"Than you are a Demon possessed Elf, right?"

"I suppose one could see it that way."

"Okay."

"And that does not bother you?"

"No. This is great in fact!"

"Is it?"

"Yes!"

"How so?"

"Because that means your magic is real magic. It's Demon Magic! That means you really can make Ophelia want me!"

"WANT you?"

"Yes!"

"That's different than love, boy."

"No, it's not."

"And this makes you overjoyed?"

"Of course it does!"

"Interesting. Usually it makes people want to run with terror as far from me as they can get."

"But this means you can actually, real help me!"

"Do you think you can afford me?"

"I have money."

Quaraun scoffed.

Kelim felt confused. As though he had missed some important bit of information.

"What's wrong?"

"What use has a Demon for money?"

"What do people usually pay you with if not money?"

"Their souls."

"You want my soul?"

"What I WANT is Finderu's soul."

"Finderu?"

"And his head."

"But. . . uhm. . . does that mean you want me to kill Finderu?"

"Ideally, yes."

"But Finderu is Ophelia's father. If I kill her dad, then she'll never want me."

"Ah! But with the proper love spell, things like that won't matter."

"Won't it?" The little, green and gold winged Pixie asked.

"No. If I cut your soul in half and cut her soul in half, and put a half of your soul in her and a half of her soul in you, the two of you will be bound together, forever, for time and all eternity. She'll cherish you from beyond the grave."

Quaraun's voice faded into sad, distant thoughts. He was soul bound, but his lover was dead. And yet he could still feel every thought, every emotion, every scream of agony from beyond the grave.

"I don't want her to cherish me from beyond the grave. I want her to need me now, while we are both still alive."

"To love beyond death is a beautiful thing."

"Does it hurt?" Kelim asked, unable to mask the fear in his voice. The thought of death terrified him to no end. He didn't like thinking about death.

"Hmmm?" Quaraun's mind had drifted off into a hazy, foggy, fizzy, figgy, daze as he thought gloomy, dreary thoughts of his dead lover.

"Does what hurt?"

"Cutting your soul in half?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, no. That part is quite painless. Love, however, is never painless. The pain comes later. Death, brings with it, such lose, such loneliness. You feel everything they feel. You know all their thoughts. All their emotions. You are sad when they are sad. You feel the joy when they laugh. Their mirth bubbles inside you. When they are cut, you bleed with them. And when they die, you feel every last throws of death, as they feel it. Their joys become your joys. Their sufferings, your sufferings. Their death, your eternal doom."

"I don't want eternal doom. I want Ophelia."

"Doom and gloom. Gloom and doom. You can not have true love without true suffering. They travel hand in hand. Skipping across your soul in fettered glee. Tormenting your mind. Haunting your spirit. Delighting in the joys of squashing your soul into the dirt. Love hurts. But your soul screams for it. Longs for it. Begs for it. No matter the cost. Love will trample your heart. Beat it into the ground. And you will want it ever still, ever more. The more love hurts you, the more you crave it."

"Uhm… I want Ophelia to need me, not trample me into the ground."

"Females trample the men they love into the ground. Without a love spell, she will use you and lose you. With a love spell, she'll just use you. It is the nature of women and is precisely why I do not like women. Females are horrible creatures. I absolutely despise them."

The blue eyed Elf wrinkled his nose in disgust as he thought of women.

"Ophelia isn't like that."

"No? And how exactly would you know? You've never even met her. You know nothing about her. You are mesmerized by her beauty. You know nothing of her personality. You lust after her. You do not love her. If you loved her, you would take her with all her flaws. And you would enjoy it when she trampled you."

"Uhm…. uh… okay… but… uhm…"

"Back to the uhms again."

"You became rather morbid there. I want Ophelia, not, that, whatever that is that you are describing."

"Boy, you know nothing of love."

Quaraun shook the thought from his mind, and his voice became overly cheerful and chipper.

"Together. Forever. True, genuine, authentic love can never die. Love that stays, ever and always. Unbreakable. Unshakable. The beauty of such a romance! To never be parted! Not even by death. The sensations of such a love. You can not even begin to imagine. The pair of thee shall be told of in legends."

"I. . .uhm.. that.. not. . . I. . . don't want. . . I just. . ."

"Soul binding too much for you?"

"I just want Ophelia to be with me, not that. . . that. . ."

"There is anther suitor?"

"She's getting married. I have to stop it."

"Why?"

"Because I need her, not him!"

"You do not want a romance that lasts forever?"

"I. . . I. . .uhm. . . I don't. . . I. . . uhm. . ."

"Back to the uhms again. All right. We shall take note of that. Soul binding is too big and scary of a love spell for you. You want transitory love, not everlasting love. What else have we got?"

"You have more than one type of love spell?"

"Yes, I do. What we need to do it to determine which love spell you prefer. I can have the potion you want in minutes. You don't have to wait months if you get your potions from me. But, we need to figure out what exactly it is you want it to do."

"I want Ophelia."

"Yes. You've said that. But which type of spell do you want?"

"I. . . uhm. . . do other wizards have different types of love spells?"

"No. They do not. That is why their conjurations so often fail, and mine do not. Every customer has different insurgencies. There is no one size fits all love spell. I'm a better wizard than other wizards because I know what the consumer wants. I let the customer think they are invariably correct, even when they aren't. You want a love potion. You can't be talked out of a love potion. I have love potions pre-prepared precisely for folks like you. So, you shall have a love potion. Now to work out WHICH love potion is appropriate for you and your case."

"Which potion?"

"Yes. Which?"

"Are there many?"

"Yes. I have many. All do something different."

"Is it many, as if a few or lots?"

"Oh, my, yes! Thousands. I don't have so many pre-made. Many can't be pre-made and must be made specific to the couple in question. But we can start you out with a pre-made one. And if that doesn't manage the action you expect it to, we can think about a custom prepared one for you."

"Why so many different?"

"There are different types of love."

"There are?"

"You don't love your mother the same way you love your wife, now do you?" Quaraun eyed the Pixie suspiciously. "Of course, you're a Faerie, so perhaps you do."

"I want Ophelia to need me. Whatever type that is."

"Tis planting season, not harvest season and you are bargaining for a great cause. . ."

"A great cause?" Kelim didn't understand.

The Moon Elf seemed to be conveying only half of what he was thinking. Either that or he truly was insane and not capable of reasoning too plainly. Kelim didn't think he had ever met an insane person before. So he wasn't sure what to expect from this man, rumoured to be insane.

"Love is a great motive. Perhaps the only cause truly worth fighting for." Quaraun stopped what he was doing and turned to the Pixie. "Would YOU fight for love?"

"Uhm. . .I. . . uhm. . ."

"Uhm is not an answer. You hesitate at too many things, Boy."

The Elf snapped his perfectly manicured fingers in Kelim's face.

"It's a simple answer, Boy, yes or no. There's nothing to think about, no ahhs, errs, or uhmms, it should be just automatic: yes or no."

"I'm just a boy, you know!" Kelim pouted. "I don't know all the right answers yet. I'm not some ancient wise old Wizard who's spent a lifetime studying brick a brack tomes."

"Ancient and old? Old and ancient. You think I'm old?"

The Necromancer stopped what he was doing, stepped back, and stared dumbfounded at the Pixie.

The De Ja Vue of this conversation irritated him. Had not Ghirardelli also called him old? And had he not killed her for that very reason?

Of course, he had planned to kill her anyway, but he had planned to wait and get more information out of her first. He'd lost his temper when she called him old and ancient. Ancient and old. And this upset him deeply, because he was old.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He was very old.

He was many tens of thousands of years old.

The Sacred Pink JellyFish had been tens of thousands of years old before being implanted into the Elf and now the Elf, trapped in an immortality love spell that cursed him to relive life for eternity, had caused the Elf to be many tens of thousands of years old as well. Quaraun had no ability of accurately determining his age, and the thought that he was old for eternity deeply upset him.

"Old and ancient. Ancient and old."

Quaraun breathed erratically, hyperventilating as he said this. The old Elf's voice sounded wounded, and Kelim instantly regretted his sudden outburst. Quaraun silently mouthed the words ancient and old several times.

"Do I look old to you?" Quaraun asked the Pixie, but then did not wait for an answer.

Quaraun's expression had changed. Calm and composed before, confident in his arrogance, Quaraun could not now mask the nervous, unsettled, panicked anxiety that shivered through him, causing his body to tremble. Quaraun held onto the table to steady himself. He was shaking so badly, he feared he would fall.

Much to Kelim's surprise, Quaraun pulled a full-length mirror out of his impossibly tiny purse. Then stood in front of it muttering to himself about being ancient, trapped in immortality, reliving old age for eternal lifetimes, while he stared horrified, stressed, and confused at his own reflection.

"I didn't mean. . ." Kelim tried to explain he wasn't calling the Elf old, but Quaraun wasn't listening to Kelim. The abnormally vain Elf had pulled a silver brush from the bag and was now nervously brushing his luxuriant white Rapunzel hair.

No.

Brushing his hair was not quite an accurate statement. Quaraun was ripped the bristles through his locks with a frantic abandon. And his hair was reacting just as frantically, slithering an scurrying and trying to get out of reach of the brush. The thought that he might have aged had triggered the Elf into a self-absorbed frenzy of fussing over what he looked like while frantically brushing his hair.

So alarmed was Kelim, by how disturbed Quaraun was, that Kelim failed to notice the fine strands of Quaraun's hair, wiggling, recoiling to escape the onslaught of the hairbrush. Or the tentacles reaching out and slapping the Elf's hand and trying to tear the brush out of his grasp.

This went on for several minutes.

Realizing the brush was injuring his delicate tentacles, Quaraun set the brush aside and instead set out to looking for a basin. Filled it with water, from where Kelim could not tell, and set about instead to washing his hair.

As he shampooed his hair, the elderly wizard continued to mutter about being elderly and trailed off into speaking a squishy, slithering, snake-like language Kelim did not understand.

"I didn't say you looked old. Hey!"

Kelim tried to get Quaraun's attention. But it was a fruitless endeavour. Quaraun was fully focused on lathering suds into his twelve foot long hair, a task which would take hours to undertake, especially as his hair was not being cooperative and kept slithering out of the suds and trying to hide behind him. Quaraun, running around the room, chasing escaping strands of his tentacle hair while shrieking the gibbering madness that was thee Thullid language, truly did make him seem fitting of the cruel title people dubbed him: Quaraun the Insane.

The fragrant, clean, fresh smell of herbal shampoo filled the hair as glistening bubbles drifted lazily through the room.

In between washing strands of his mega long hair, the Elf searched in the mirror for wrinkles on his face. Kelim couldn't tell what the Elf was saying, but whatever it was, Quaraun sounded terrified. Kelim wondered how it was a person could become so afraid of old age, but that appeared to be the situation.

Kelim tried several times to talk to Quaraun. The little green and gold-winged Fairy might as well been talking to a stone wall. The vain, paranoid, self absorbed Elf was not hearing a word Kelim was trying to say.

Kelim now understood that this Elf was very self-conscious about his looks. Kelim lamented what he had said. Though Kelim did not regret it out of any concern for the Elf. Rather, Kelim regretted it because it seemed apparent that once concerned about his looks, the Elf had forgotten Kelim's presence. Quaraun was too busy primping in the mirror. The Pink Necromancer was no longer concerned with helping Kelim to get Ophelia. And this was a problem for Kelim.

Kelim stamped his foot in frustration. He didn't know what else to do. Kelim had not intended to hurt the Elf's feelings. And obviously this was highly narcissistic, egotistical Elf. A sad, lonely, depressed Elf, suffering from some serious vanity and pride issues. It occurred to Kelim that claiming the Elf old could ruin his chances of getting any help from the Elf.

It took Quaraun three hours to wash his hair, and by that time he had calmed down considerably,

"Are you still here?" Quaraun asked Kelim.

"Well. . . I. . . uhmmm. . ."

"You insulted me."

"I. . . I'm. . .I'm sorry, that didn't come out right. I wasn't thinking, I. . ."

"You seem to do a lot of that. You're lack of any ability to think is going to get you in a heaping world of trouble one day. Especially if you continue to run around requesting wishes be granted. The ability to think before speaking is paramount to the success of any wish you seek."

Quaraun turned back to a shelf full of strange looking curio objects, which he had been organizing earlier. Jars of bird's feet and lizards tongue and such other things.

"I. . . I. . ."

"I. I . I! Lack of thinking is a serious flaw on your part. Almost as bad as you inability to speak properly. Of course you're a Faerie, so what else is there to expect? It's why you're here is it not? Hasty thinking, don't know what else to do, ain't got enough sense to jerk yourself off, cum on your feet. Oh noooo. Got a little cunt ya want to be fucking. Can't find a way to fuck her, so let's run to the local Wizard whom we think is more powerful than the Wizard whose daughter I want to fuck."

"I didn't say I wanted to. . ."

Quaraun turned and stared at the young Pixie. He didn't need to say a word, Kelim could see from the look on his face, that Quaraun was accusing him of lying. Kelim hung his head and looked at the large wooden table.

The Moon Elf strode across the room and flung himself into a large throne like chair. He sat there staring at the Pixie waiting for him to say something. Seeing that Kelim wasn't going to speak, the Necromancer went back to talking.

"Of course that says something about Finderu, doesn't it? Big bad powerful Wizard, and he can't handle his own daughter. That's what comes of fucking girls. You end up with a pregnant bitch and babies to raise."

"What's wrong with having a family?"

"Families die and leave you alone."

"Did you have a. . ."

"My family is dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Wizards should never have families. You lose your focus. Finderu was never a contender for World's Most Powerful wizard now was he? And he can't stand it. So what does he do? Do you know what he did?"

"No."

"Organized a group of bloodthirsty militant Wizards to band together and kill off every last Wizard who is not a member of their group. Then they take over the government. Crown themselves law of the land That's what he did!"

"Is that bad?"

"Law of the land! Finderu! Bah! Of course that's bad."

"So. . ."

"Crowned himself law of the land and forbid all types of magic they are too incompetent to practice themselves. Kill off anyone who can practice the advanced arts."

"You're talking about The Guild?"

"Yes. That's what The Guild is, Kelim. That's the kind of Wizard Finderu is. And me, being the most powerful Wizard of them all, he's got more prizes on my head than any other Wizard."

"Aren't you wanted for murder?"

"That, and bathing too often, among other things."

"Bathing too often?"

"Have you seen the wanted posters lately? I doubt he even as half the money he says my head is worth. And you come along, want to stick your prick in his bitch's cunt, and who do you go to for help? The person Finderu hates most of all. Me."

Quaraun held up a wanted poster with his face on it.

"You know these pictures don't do me justice. I should do a sit down with their artist. Pose for my wanted poster. Now I ask you, does this even look anything like me?"

Kelim looked at the wanted poster.

WANTED:

QUARAUN THE INSANE:

Wanted for Necromancy, Demonology, Sorcery, Black Magic, murder, rape, buggery, sodomy, cross-dressing, bathing more than twice a year. . .

There were more things on the list, but Quaraun rolled up the poster and stuffed it back in his bag, before Kelim had time to read the rest.

"I am the most beautiful Elf the world has ever seen. Look at me! That artist, clearly never saw me. How does Finderu ever expect to capture me if he can't even find an artist that can capture my beauty?"

"You're very vain, aren't you?"

"You would be too, if you were as beautiful as me."

"Ophelia is as beautiful as you."

"No one is as beautiful as me."

Kelim slowly lifted his eyes to meet those of the Necromancer. Quaraun was sitting very stiff, leaning forward with his thin elbows on the arms of the chair and his long bony fingers crossed in front of him. Kelim thought the Elf looked very smug and regal, almost kingly, well queenly, the guy was wearing a pink dress after all. Kind of hard to take a fearsome Elf like Quaraun totally seriously when he was sitting there sparkling from head to toe in pink sequins. But still, his cold eyes were formidable and warned that this was not an Elf to be reckoned with.

"I need her. To me that makes her more beautiful than anyone."

"Well, you know what they say. Love is blind."

"Are you going to make a spell for me or not?"

"You do understand, Boy, that these things always come with a cost. Don't you?"

"How much do you want?"

"I'm a Necromancer. Only thing I ever want is souls. Souls and heads. Heads and souls. They are very valuable. And hard to come by. You pay with your soul or you pay with your head. Either or both, I don't care which."

"You're mad."

The Moon Elf laughed wickedly, "I'm supposedly insane, what did you expect?"

"How much does a spell cost?"

"I already told you."

"No, you didn't. I need to know how much to pay you."

"I'm not talking about money, Boy. I have plenty of money. Here!" Quaraun reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of gold coins and tossed them across the room in Kelim's direction. "Take some coins. Buy yourself a mansion. Let Ophelia marry you for money."

Kelim stared at the gold coins, now scattered across the floor.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I'm an Elf. I never joke. Take the gold. I don't need it."

"I can't take your gold."

"Why not? I don't need it and I've plenty more where that came from."

"Where'd you get it?"

"I killed a black, mountain dragon. I have a dragon's hoard. I own a volcano filled to overflowing with jewels and gold."

Quaraun slid off the huge pink cushioned gold throne and glided back to where Kelim stood. Kelim leaned over cock-eyed trying to see if the Elf's feet were touching the ground or not. He seemed to be floating several inches off the ground, but Kelim couldn't tell as the pink silks were fluttering on the ground and the Elf's feet could not be seen.

"Take the gold, Kelim. Buy the whore. Better than a love spell."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, Kelim, it is. In your case. All you want is a bitch to fuck. So go get yourself a bitch willing to be fucked. The only love spell that'll satisfy you is a dubious consent spell at best and a rape spell at worst, and I don't deal in either."

"That's not what I want."

"Really? Could have fooled me."

"I want Ophelia."

"But you don't want the bad that comes with the good. All you want is a pretty flower willing to jump in your bed. You have no desire for love. You cringe at the thought of all of love's side effects. And there ARE side effects to love. Love comes with more bad than good. If you only want the good, than love is not what you want. You know nothing about love."

"I know what I want!"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"No! You don't. You are young and foolish. You have no idea what love is. You only know the fairy tale fantasy. You know nothing of real love."

"Do you?"

"YES. I. DO." Quaraun snarled in raged fury as he said this last line.

Kelim stepped back. The Elf looked terrifying just now. Kelim didn't doubt that Quaraun had been truly in love. But the love that Quaraun spoke of. . . it was terrifying. Painful. Suffering. That wasn't what Kelim thought of when he thought of love.

"I.. I.. I want Ophelia to need me."

"And you think a love spell will do that?"

Quaraun rolled the tiny red glass bottle over and over in his hand as he spoke. The fiery glare in his crystal blue eyes sent shivers down Kelim's spine. All Kelim wanted to do was buy a love spell and be gone. Why was this old Elf making it so difficult for him? Kelim wanted to fold up like a piece of paper and slip under the door. To run and hide. This pale Moon Elf was scaring him.

"I need her. . ."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

"Do you even know what love is?"

"Of course I do!"

"I think not. Kelim. I think you have a lot of growing up to do. I think, you are too immature to understand true love. I think, the consequences of love, actual love, are too great for your mind to handle. You act like love is something you can buy from any merchant. Disposable. Replaceable. Get a filly. Try her out. The toss her aside for a new model when you get bored. Love is a deep and important thing. It lasts forever. I loved once. I still love. But my lover is dead. But love, true love, is forever. It never dies. Souls can reach across time and space and touch each other, long after death. He is long dead, but I can still feel his soul. Forever's a long time, Boy. If you truly love her, you'll still love her, when she's dead and gone. And you won't replace her with another, because love doesn't do that. True love lasts. Only lust replaces a lover, because lust isn't love. Love is loyal. Love is devoted. Love is faithful. Love is forever. Do you love her or do you lust after her?"

"I need her."

"And yet you don't know her."

"I. . ."

"You never meet her, even."

"I. . ."

"Does she have any pets?"

"I. . . uhm… I… don't… uhm…"

"What type of food does she eat?"

"I. . ."

"How old is she?"

"I. . ."

"What is her favourite colour?"

"I. . . I want her to want me."

"Want is not a colour, Kelim."

"I. . ."

"Do you know anything about her at all?"

"She works in the bakery to spite her father because he doesn't want her associating with common peasants. He says he'll turn all us peasants into pheasants if he catches any of us with her."

"Hmmm. There's an added detail, you neglected to mention before. And, how do you plan to prevent yourself from being turned into a fine feathered friend, after my love spell makes her love you?"

"I… uhm… wouldn't the spell fix that?"

Quaraun shook his head.

"Oh. Uhm… well… could you do a spell to fix that, too?"

"Kelim, I can't fix all of your problems with magic."

"Why not?"

"Because, I'm not your slave. I'm not going to let you pull me around by a nose ring, and force me to do everything for you. I'm not an ox."

"But you do have a ring in your nose."

"Yes I do. And that joke isn't funny, Kelim. You keep up saying things like THAT to me and you'll have more worries about my turning you into a frog, long before Finderu gets a chance to go pheasant on you."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be. I don't bullies, Kelim. I kill bullies. You start bullying me and I'll not only not help you, but I'll cut off your head as well."

"Uhm… okay."

"Grow some balls, Kelim. Your inability to stand up for yourself is the real problem here. Fix that and you won't have to live in fear of Finderu or be too scared to talk to women. And it'll fix your ah, ah, uhm, uhhh, problem as well. You need some self confidence. You have no feelings of self worth for yourself. That's the spell you should be asking me to make for you."

"But I need Ophelia to be with me."

"Need?"

"Yes. She needs to need me the way I need her."

"Need? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"That's different than love."

"I need her and she needs me, she just doesn't know it yet."

"How can you love someone you never meet? Never talked to. Don't even know. That is not love. That is lust. You lust for a pretty thing. You want to stick your cock in her. And once you've done that, your burning passion for her will die and you'll find another. Love doesn't do that."

"I need her."

"Are you sure? Do you wish for love or do you just wish to be fucked? If you want to fuck someone, go fuck a whore. There are plenty of them in this godforsaken town. They'll take your money and show you a good time. Get your itch off your chest and out of your pants. You will think more clearly when your saluting cock ain't leading the way."

"I'm not. . . I don't. . ."

"Not what? Not low enough to fuck a whore? Don't need to fuck a whore? What are you? A eunuch? I know you're not a eunuch. You know how I know you're not a eunuch? Because I am a eunuch. I have mastered the art of ignoring any need or desire for any man or woman of any kind. That's why I'm a powerful wizard. My mind isn't clogged up with petty, useless desires for sex. The only thing that leads a man to a woman, is his dick. Not his head and certainly not his heart."

"My. . . my. . . I. . . ain't. . ."

"Your dick ain't leading the way? Ha!"

"No, I. . ."

"You love her? Really? I think not. It takes years to cultivate love. Love isn't instant. That is lust. You can't tell the difference between love and lust."

"I do l. . . lo. . . lo. . ." Kelim could not bring himself to say the word love.

"You love someone you have never met? Live with that person for 30 years, than tell me you still love them."

"Thirty years is. . ."

"Too long? Can't wait. Gonna burst your blue balls before than? Love waits. And if you can't wait, you ain't in love. You just want to shoot your cum on the bitch. And when you've done that, suddenly you'll find you got no more need for her. No more love for her. Because you fucking don't know what love is."

"You don't know anything about. . ."

"Don't I? I haven't lived seven hundred and fifty years for nothing. I know the ways of the world a lot better then you do, Boy!"

"I want her. . ."

"Do you?"

"Yes!"

"Prove it!"

"How do I. . ."

"Are you willing to die?"

"What?"

"Would you die for her?"

"I. . . "Kelim hesitated. "Uhm. . ."

Quaraun snapped his fingers in Kelim's face.

"Quickly, Boy! In life or death situations, you don't have time to think. If you hesitate, you love will be dead. You'll be left alive, covered in her blood. Because you hesitated. You waited. Love acts. It doesn't hesitate."

Kelim was distracted by the strong smell of Absinthe on Quaraun's breath.

The anise and licorice minty scent was overpowering. Kelim knew fragrance of Green Fairy Wine. It was outlawed. But Winsnot drank it.

A powerful drug.

That's what Fairy Wine was. Wormwood, hashish seeds, and poppy milk, steeped in mint, beet juice, and grape wine, until it fermented into a sickly toxic emerald green colour. It tasted like licorice.

Kelim looked around the room. A bottle of Fairy Wine sat on the table. Two more bottles lay on the floor. There were more empty bottles on a shelf.

"Are you going to help me?"

"Why should I?"

"Because!"

"Because?"

"Yes!"

"Is just because a reason?"

"Of course it is!"

"You are used to bullying people through life, aren't you?"

"I'm not a bully."

"No?"

"No."

"You are trying to force me to do a thing I do not want to do, for no reason other than you think you have the right to push me around. Is that not definition of a bully?"