The wizard slipped the acorn into his pocket and patted it with satisfaction. He had great plans for the nymph, but she needed to be trained properly. Rogue wood nymphs were quite uncommon since they usually received mentorship from their older sisters. This one had probably been separated prematurely and left to develop in isolation, suspicious of all things unfamiliar. A new start would be good for her and for the realm at large.
With a gesture and a spell, he extinguished the fire. After that, the real work began. One by one, he restored most of the nymph’s victims to at least a semblance of their old lives. Many would bear the scars of their experience, green hair, antlers or horns, an unusual scent, even a new gender. A few were sadly beyond recovery and could only be made as comfortable as possible in their new existences. The crown prince and governor, meanwhile, turned out to be pregnant with fawns. True to the arbitrary rules of nature magic, this meant they could not be restored to their rightful shapes until they gave birth. Still, the Slavis gave them back their own minds, which resulted in two very cross deer.
Soon, they returned to the capital city under cover of night to avoid any embarrassment. The people would be told the prince and governor had fallen ill and could not be seen for a few months. If any more side-effects lingered afterward, well, they would deal with that as it came. Until then, the two deer were given the best stalls in the royal stables and the finest leafy greens from the garden. For good measure, the wizard agreed to stay at the castle during this time in case of emergencies.
As for the nymph, she ended up in a pot in the wizard’s quarters in the highest room of the farthest tower. The king had wanted her fed to the pigs, but the Slavis, whom the humans called Masterwizard Kvosk (an approximation of the first syllable of his given name), managed to talk the ruler into giving him custody. To Jeff’s surprise, Kvosk took good care of her acorn, and almost four months later, a tiny seedling had pushed up into the sunlight, spreading forth its first tender leaves.
Instantly, Jeff felt herself released. With a mix of relief and trepidation, she manifested herself in the outside world again. As she feared, she still looked like a late-blooming teen, all scrawny limbs and waifish figure. Nevertheless, she stood straight and put on her most arrogant manner.
Kvosk was waiting for her, looking much taller than when she had last encountered him in person. Crossing his arms, he greeted, “Welcome back, Lady of the Dark Forest. Or perhaps I will call you Acorn, from now on.”
She glared at him, wishing she could harness even a fraction of her previous power to wipe that smug expression from his face. However, it was still too soon. “You dare to insult me?”
“I could do worse things,” Kvosk replied, holding up a finger. A tiny flame flickered to life at the tip, just a spark but more than enough to make her gasp and glance at her fragile seedling. Then, he extinguished the flame. “Whether you believe me or not, I do not wish to harm you. But remember that I own you now.”
“None can own me,” hissed the nymph.
“On the contrary, the king can own you since you abducted and transformed his son. And he has given you to me. Ergo, I own you and have now decided that your name shall be Acorn from now on.”
“Names are for humans and other short life creatures,” Jeff stated with scorn. It was true. She had little use for names since becoming a nymph, and even “Jeff” felt like a mere indulgence buried deep in her mind.
“You are in the land of humans, now, and I plan to keep you here for a long time. So it would be wise to adopt their ways. I have heard it makes them less willing to kill you.”
The nymph tried to be outraged, but one more look at her infant tree, so small and fragile like her current self, squashed her rebellion. “Very well,” Acorn mumbled. “Master.”