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THE KEEPER: Tales from the Fringes of Reality. Episode 2 – The Magician.

THE KEEPER: (typing sounds, followed by a sigh)

Well. Slow day then, it seems. It gets like this sometimes, just so you know. Some days it feels like reality has finally solidified itself enough that no one could possibly ever slip through the cracks. I think the best example of this was a couple years ago. I didn’t have any cases for like a week and a half. I honestly thought–

I honestly thought that maybe I wasn’t needed anymore. But then, almost as soon as the thought entered my head, a case came through and I was back to work. The dry spells aren’t as frequent now, but they do pop up occasionally. Sometimes people just manage to stay where they’re meant to be. Boring for both of us, I know. 

You know, sometimes I’m not sure if you can understand me. There are a million reasons that your silence can be attributed to, I’m certain, but sometimes I wonder if the systems in here are so on the fritz that I’m just fully not speaking your language. It’s possible, I mean, everything around here is falling apart and dying one day at a time. Who says that the language filter is even on? Yeah, language filter. If people find themself in this space, it should automatically translate me for them and them for me. It sounds like sci-fi nonsense, doesn’t it? But it’s not science, it’s magic. Or… that’s one of those bad simplifications on my part. Science and magic are one in the same, really. You could say that science is magic we understand really well. Or that magic is science we have yet to translate into our language. I’m not making any sense, am I? This would be so much easier if Alasdair was here.

Oh, I bet you’d adore Alasdair, everyone does! He’s the kindest person imaginable, I swear to the Creator. Everything he does just… radiates warmth and, well, magic. That’s his whole thing. He’s the Magician, the member of the Council who governs over all the magic in reality. It’s his gift to us all, be it in the form of genuine, raw magic or refined science or what have you.

(typing, slowly)

There’s nothing else really going on today, perhaps I could tell you about him. If you’re going to be here for a while, it’s probably best for you to get acquainted with knowledge of everyone on the Council. And if you’re not…

You wouldn’t remember anyway.

The Fringes is kind of… insulated from the rest of reality. Memory doesn’t work all that well here, not unless it’s memories that were formed in here. I… I don’t even remember much of my life before being here. And if I were to leave, I might not even remember my time in here. It’s hard to tell what will stick with me and what won’t. I mean, I had a life before this, I must’ve. And if that can all be taken away…

I’m rambling again. And not about what I was meant to be rambling about! Alasdair would have my neck for this, I swear, if they thought I wasn’t talking them up properly. Not really, of course, he’s far too kind for that, but he deserves the praise, even if he isn’t here to hear it.

Alexandria was born from Magic. She pulled herself into existence by weaving parts of magic around herself until she was. As she started to create realities, the other Council members started to form from the magic, being pulled from magic and the needs of the worlds being created by Alexandria.

I guess I should explain a little bit about the Council itself before I start talking about Alasdair. There are six of them in total: Alexandria, Sparrow, Marigold, Opal, Guillermo, and Alasdair. Their names have changed over the eons of their existences. Infinite realities to look over have led to them pulling from those closest to their hearts, giving themselves names of people they loved and lost and cherished and missed. It’s how Minerva got her name too, you see. Pulled from the worlds the Council created across time and space alike. Each of them controls a different aspect of existence, though Alexandria is the leader of it all. She’s the Creator, the one who came first and pulled magic in to create the worlds we now know.

Alasdair is also born from magic, but we can get into that more later. He’s less intune with it than Alexandria is. Or, well… There are incredible things Alasdair can do with magic, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not creating endless universes with it. It’s more difficult for him to create with all of himself in the way that Alexandria does if that makes sense.

He utilizes magic the way an artist utilizes paints: something a little different each time but with his heart and soul in every moment of it. Some universes have magic in its raw form, leading to casting spells and fighting monsters that other realities believe to be myth. The same way people get lost is the same way a universe without monsters still knows about them: the idea bleeds through those soft spots, taking root in the minds of whoever is near it so they can share the idea. Dragons exist everywhere, they just aren’t real everywhere. Just like Alasdair exists everywhere but he’s only real here, on the Fringes with the Council. 

Don’t tell anyone this, but I think he likes the realities with raw magic the best. It’s where he can feel most like himself if he ever decides to leave the fringes and enter a reality for real. They do that sometimes, the various Council members. It helps them to connect to themselves and each other as well as to the worlds they govern over. There are rules, of course, but they’re allowed to exist as people if they like to as long as they return.

Alasdair and Guillermo enter reality more than any of the others, at least that’s what the files I’ve got on the Council say. From what I remember about Alasdair, he likes to go and create new monsters or spells and drop them into the world, just to see how they do. It’s made my job a nightmare before, honestly, because while it’s technically allowed as manipulation by the Council, it often leads to greater soft spots in reality when things change that much that quickly. I’ve had casters falling into non magic realities before after trying new spells from Alasdair and let me tell you, it’s hard to hear their stories. They… Like Alasdair, magic is a part of them, and to be in places where there is very little tangible magic hurts in a way that I can’t put into words. Thankfully Alasdair’s spell creations make it easy enough to place them back– Alasdair has to fill out a lot of forms before dropping a spell or monster into the world so that I can put them back in situations like this. But it’s still scary for them.

It’s scary for anyone to be suddenly removed from their own reality.

That’s the thing about a sudden increase in magic: it can really warp reality. Even in realities with magic already existing in it, it just stretches the bounds too far. Alasdair used to do a lot more experimenting in actual realities, but it seems like they’ve stopped. Either that or our systems are so busted that we’re not seeing the influx of people impacted by their magic.

This, as you might’ve guessed, has all been anecdotal so far. It’s all the things I remember about Alasdair off the top of my head. If you give me a sec, I can pull up their file and actually read you something more substantial than just my opinion of them. There are a lot of good stories in their file, I remember bits and pieces but– aha! There we go, let’s see… Oh! This is a good one, okay. Story time for real this time! 

Magic unites us all in the end. It’s an energy, thrumming within every person in every reality that will eventually fade, being collected by Sparrow as they take a person from one reality and give them back to the magic on the fringes of reality. We are born from magic and we die in magic. Yet death itself, which Sparrow governs over, is not magic. 

Alasdair was magic.

Magic flowed from him the way it flowed into every universe out there, but contained within him it was something more. He did not give life, nor did he take it away, but he was life. He was death. He was the child of Alexandria and Sparrow, pulled from the magic at the center of the universe in an act of uniting their love for each other. He had a great amount of influence on magic itself, but not in the same way his mother did. Where she created worlds and people, Alasdair created spells and creatures, technology and ideas that flourished within the realities themself.

That was the thing about them: they were much more connected to reality than their mother was. Alexandria created reality, this is true, but she took a more hands off approach. She didn’t interfere, she didn’t get involved. Alasdair, however, loved to get involved. They loved existing in the realities their mother created and molding the magic around them to create new things. Things that could only exist in the realities. Their mother crafted worlds from the outside while Alasdair crafted worlds from the inside. They were just as important to the process as their mother and Alexandria was bursting with pride every time she saw them.

His original name has been lost to us. The Council believes very firmly that the names of the past belong in the past unless the person wishes to share them. Alasdair never wished to share his former name, so Alexandria struck it from the files. What we do know, though, is where he got this new name. Where and when and why.

Reality 100.33 S was exactly the kind of place you’d imagine finding Alasdair: directly tied to magic, none of it obfuscated through the lens of science like in some realities, with monsters a plenty and adventures to be had. They wanted to craft some new spell work, create something that did, well, something of importance in this reality. So he started talking to people in a town called Greenwood. There was a local shopkeeper there, a blacksmith named Melinoe, Mel for short. She told Alasdair that if they really wanted to help, they could try and find a magical way to produce water for the town.

That was the thing about Greenwood: the wood was indeed green but that sucked up so much of the water from the town. It was as though the trees themselves were pulling the rain from the clouds, becoming ever greener while Greenwood started to wither and die. People were leaving, choosing to settle elsewhere or find adventure in the mountains, and Mel didn’t want to see her home die.

Water magic was easy enough for Alasdair, who was not Alasdair at this point. To make it easier for us all, we’ll just call him the Magician. And the Magician knew water magic like the back of his hand. It was he who created the rivers and lakes and oceans and whatnot of hundreds upon thousands of realities, after all. He could do this without thinking.

And yet, his first attempt at creating water magic in 100.33 S failed. 

They weren’t quite sure what it was. They could feel the call of the water in their bones, could feel the magic swirling around that call and yet when they tried to cast it forth, nothing happened. It fizzled and fell flat on their skin, sinking back into their bones with dead, soggy weight. The Magician had done this spell hundreds if not thousands of times before this, and yet within the confines of Greenwood and of 100.33 S, it just wouldn’t work.

So they tried warping the spell a bit, changing the way the magic flowed through them, but it remained stagnant yet again. And again. And again. 

He went back to Melinoe, asking her what she thought the issue was with water magic in this world. She laughed at him a bit, telling him that she thought he was joking when he said he would try to take up the challenge of creating water magic. “You’re just one person, lovely, what could you possibly do?”

They weren’t just a person, though, not that Melinoe knew this. They had the power to make a change and yet it felt trapped within them, just like the water of this place. Trapped, needing desperately to come out. 

“Why don’t you sit with me for a bit?” Mel offered, as if sensing their frustration. “I can teach you a bit about metalwork? Maybe take your mind off of things?”

There was something absolutely magnetic about Mel. The way she talked, the way she worked, the way she laughed at all of the Magician’s ridiculous jokes. She was fierce, she was lovely. She was waiting for her husband to return from the mountains, hopefully in time for her child to be born. 

Mel always talked fondly of him, telling the Magician all about their courtship and their business together. She did all the metalwork while her husband– Adam– was a woodworker. They built their house, their business, their life together. 

“Why did he go?” Alasdair had asked after another failed attempt at creating a water spell. He had taken the rest of the day to cook for Mel, giving the woman time to rest her weary body.

“There are better resources in the mountain for my work,” she explained, gesturing to her pregnant stomach. “And I can hardly go like this. I shouldn’t even be doing the work I’m presently doing, but…”

“It’s hard to stop doing what you love,” the Magician finished, thinking about the spell he had been trying to craft for this woman who so easily became his friend. “I understand.”

Adam did end up returning just before his son– who they called Alasdair– was born.

There was something about seeing the way that Adam and Melinoe held each other as they cradled their newborn child that sparked the last bit of inspiration the Magician needed. They knew exactly how to break through that block in their spell work, all it had taken was seeing the love this family held for each other and the love he held for them. The day after Alasdair was born, the Magician went out into the field behind Mel’s workshop and called the magic to him, letting it flow through his body like the love Mel held for her husband and son.

And water came out from his palm.

“How… How did you do that?” Mel asked in wonder, taking the Magician’s hand as though it held all the secrets. “I knew you were a caster but…”

How do you explain to someone that everything you’ve done and everything you will do is for them? The Magician loved Mel. They loved Adam, they loved Alasdair. They loved this little family who had taken them in when they were the one meant to be there helping. It changed them, profoundly changed their entire world. It inspired them, it made it possible for them to create in a way they hadn’t been able to in the past. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to Mel’s forehead, imparting his magic and this spell into her. He did the same for Adam and for Alasdair. They would be able to teach other casters in their town, save their town from crumbling to dust around them. His time in Greenwood was coming to an end, he could feel it in his bones. Magic was here, this was true, so part of him would always be there, but the Magician wasn’t meant to live in reality for too long. He needed to go home. 

There wasn’t really a good way to say goodbye. The Magician had simply arrived one day and they were meant to simply leave, vanishing on the wind like a memory you can’t quite keep hold of. But how could they just leave these people who meant so much to them? The Magician decided to stay one more day, just to say goodbye. They were tired, weak from being entrenched in reality for so long, but they would last long enough to say goodbye. 

“Are you sure you have to leave, lovely?” Mel had asked, supplying them with food they wouldn’t need and a cloak to protect them from weather they wouldn’t face again. “The storm is coming down hard, wouldn’t it be better just to wait?”

“My mother needs me to return home,” he explained. It wasn’t a lie, at least not fully. Alexandria was calling him home, pulling his magic back before he faded too much into reality. “I’ll be alright, I promise.” He gave her a tight hug, muttering his thanks for the friendship she had provided.

Adam shook his hand, thanking him for looking after his wife while he was gone. And little Alasdair, not even old enough to think yet, simply grabbed his finger, melting the Magician’s heart as he pried himself away. Waving his goodbyes, he walked out into the rushing winds and allowed himself to be taken away from 100.33 S and back to the fringes of reality he called home.

Alexandria greeted them as they returned, pulling her child into a warm embrace. “Did you accomplish what you were hoping to, my dear?”

“Yes.” They felt slightly hollow, a roaring emptiness that they didn’t realize would come to consume them once they left the care of Mel’s little home. Even if they went back to 100.33 S there was no guarantee that Mel and her family would still be there. Time passed so differently in reality as opposed to on the fringes. She could be long gone, collected by Sparrow and returned to the eternal magic by the time they went back. But they would carry her and Adam and their son in their soul, always. “I’ve chosen a new name.”

“And what’s that, my love?”

“Alasdair.”

Alexandria caressed her child’s cheek, noticing the way their accent had changed as well. “A lovely name, my dear Alasdair. I’m certain it’s a fitting tribute as well.”

You know, I… I don’t really know how old Alasdair was in that story. It’s kind of hard to know, really. The Council doesn’t really age, per se, they simply exist. Time doesn’t really work on the fringes of reality, only in the realities themselves. It’s like how there’s no real time in here either. I know how to keep time because Alexandria taught me, but I set the time myself. It’s not really passing the way it would in reality, it’s mostly to keep me from overworking myself. She only taught me how to keep time after She found me not taking breaks since I didn’t feel like time was passing. 

Either way, that’s how he got his name. I’ve always liked the name stories quite a lot, honestly. I think they say a lot about the members of the Council. Humanizes them, in a way. For beings made entirely of magic, they’re all… Well, they’re trying their best to be good. If there’s more slow days like this, maybe I’ll tell you more about them! If you’re still around, of course, I’m still holding out hope that we can find your data log amongst our files. You’ve got to be here somewhere, and if you’re here somewhere we can put you back. It would be so much easier if this space had a log set but, well, I’m the only one here so there’s no point. And it’s not like this is reality anyway, so I’m not even certain you would appear on a log sheet here. 

Are you comfortable in the back room, by the way? It’s not much, I know, but it’s the only other sleeping space I have here beside my bedroom. And for someone who doesn’t talk you were very clear about not wanting to take my bed. I still intend to keep my promise, you know. You’re going to make it home. People aren’t meant to exist on the fringes like this and if I know where you’re from, I promise I can get you back where and when you’re supposed to be. 

I just hope you trust me to keep that promise.