The old man waved his goodbyes to his young apprentice for the night, they really did work hard. He’d hoped that eventually they may be able to take over the Magic Shop, allowing him to join his friends as an eternal spirit. But his dreams can wait, his apprentice has much to learn. Besides, he isn’t quite sure he wants to part with the shop… not yet, at least.
All was quiet, only the faint buzzing from the lights above. He enjoyed the quiet, despite feeling rather lonely. He was truly grateful for his apprentice, they had a perfect enthusiasm to their role in the shop, never talking back to him like the ones that came before. It was nice to have help around.
But his quiet was interrupted. Not by sound, but by a figure in the darkness.
Immediately, the old man was put on edge. He didn’t even sense the figure enter the store, there was no way they could enter without some kind of… he calmed himself, grabbing his resting staff from the wall and holding it to the ground, ready to cast a protection spell if needed.
“Reveal yourself,” he said sternly, slamming his staff into the ground. Sparks flew from the impact, travelling across the ground to the figures feet. The sparks illuminated the figure, revealing a creature of unknown origin… the old man had never seen a being like it.
“Please, do not leave me to answer my own question!” He said again, staying stern, staring into the empty glare of the creature.
It was cold, dark, empty. It resembled a husk of a being, not something of the realm it occupied, but tangible in reality.
The creature lifted its arm, revealing an almost skeleton forearm, covered with a cloak that seemed to be made from ash. Within the grasp of the dank creature was a letter. The letter didn’t appear old, maybe a few weeks of discolouration but nothing ancient. But it looked as though it had been through turmoil, only surviving because the being that possessed it had the willpower to sustain it.
The old man, with much hesitation, reached over to grab the letter. The creature held onto it firmly, but released a moment after he had placed his own hand on it.
The old man kept the creature in his peripheral vision as he swiped open the letter, admiring the arguably beautiful wax stamp that held it together.
He looked at the letter, it was very well written with a spectacular ink, wonderful parchment and presentation. The old man vaguely recognised the writing, unable to truly remember it.
‘Keeper of the Shop of Magic, your name I do not know,
You have something which I heavily desire. Despite my presence unavailable, I do request the possession of your infamous, ‘A Game of Change’. I understand this game belongs to you, gifted by a acquaintance, Morpheus.
The game belongs to you, and I will return it. However, it’s power is so unique that I cannot seem the replicate it for myself.
My fantasies require some very powerful items, some of which are very hard to come by.
So please, humour my request, allow me to possess the game until it has satisfied me and those involved.
Yours,
Rose
x’
The old man looked stunned. How could he have not realised sooner. After all these years, he had heard of Rose more times than he could count, but seemingly knew nothing about her. He knew not whether to fear her nor respect her. He had only heard tales of her.
He looked at the husk, which stared back at him with a cold, dead glare.
“You can have the game,” he started, stepping towards the shelf of which it remained, “but you understand that the game is not just a game, it lives, it breathes, it plays alongside you,”
The parchment reacted, the ink shifting, rewriting the front page again, revealing a newer message, seemingly a real-time response from Rose herself,
‘I do understand, dear Shop-Keeper. That is why I desire it so strongly. No game nor product has shared such power with myself in such a vastly different way.
I will respect the game, not fear nor toy with it. The players will play, I will observe.
All I will do is give the game a much larger… board.’
“Alright,” the old man said. Hesitant to give this flower such a powerful and unpredictable item. But knowing the games capabilities are limited, and it’s refrain from harming players… at least permanently. Giving Rose the game can’t be too much chaos.
However, to be sure he asked, “please, Rose, if I may call you that,” he said, still fairly nervous, lacking much knowledge towards such a well-known being, “do not harm those who play the game. Do not force them against their will beyond what the game already does. And please, return the players to their original form after the game is complete.” He finished, adding softly, but sternly, “and return them home no matter what.”
He took the box off of the shelf, bringing it to the husk. The creature lifted it’s arms, opening its palms out to rest the game atop them.
The letter changed once more,
‘Dear Keeper of the Shop,
My intention is not to harm anyone, but to fuel my own fantasies. Why in the infinite realms do you think Morpheus made this game to begin with? To satisfy their own fantasises.
I can assure you, the most I’ll change is fitting the ‘changes’ to my own likening.
I understand your concern,
‘Till we meet, Shop-Keeper,
Yours,
Rose
x’
The old man handed over the box to the husk. It stood there, static for but a moment before it began to regress back into the darkness. The old man had many questions, but he knew better than to ask. He watched as the creature disappeared, taking the box with it.
Though he had seen many things, the old man did feel a sense of fear. The unknown, this beings great power, or at least their great confidence had struck a strong chill down his spine.
He stood blankly, debating what course of action to take.
But he knew this was no longer his story. This was the story of those who now had to face ‘A Game of Change’ up front, much more powerful than it was usually.