The WishKeeper (The Paragonia Chronicles)

by Timm, Maximilian

  The Other Side Of Bittersweet

  Every day, Shea would traverse the valley countryside on her walking commute to work. It was a long trek, but it was the only part of the day she enjoyed. No one asked her questions about her wings and she didn’t have to answer to anything other than her own thoughts, and she of course always agreed with herself. She would purposely take the same path every morning, enjoying the ability to know what to expect from around each corner and over every little hill. Sticking close to the edge of the forest, where the valley cradled the trees, fingers of River Paragonia rippled clear water over smooth, round rocks. She rarely looked up at the sky anymore, and thus embraced what the ground had to offer, taking solace in how little it changed. It was nice to see things that didn’t judge her or force her to change or remember a birthday she hated to remember.

  The Bittersweet Bridge would mark the end of her commute, and the small wooden nameplate reminded her of the history lessons she learned as a small fairy. She liked the word ‘bittersweet’, but hated how it represented a moment in Paragonian history that she believed to be treacherous and deceitful, though she was the only fairy to have such an opinion. The Other Side of Bittersweet. The event, or really the sugarcoated lie, was titled as such. Her ancestors destroyed one hundred wishes in order to live in their beloved, secret world.

  For thousands of years, her ancestors lived alongside the humans, or WishMakers as they called them, but when the Makers started to spread out and unknowingly infiltrate the woods and lands of the Keepers, a new home had to be created. Shea never understood why they couldn’t simply find a way to live with the WishMakers. Her father incessantly reminded her, though, that Makers have a hard time accepting something that is so different, so strange. When Shea would look at her broken wings in the mirror, she wondered if her own kind was any more accepting. There was also the problem of a WishMaker discovering a Keeper’s role in granting wishes. If a Maker did discover such a thing, evidently all wish granting would cease. This is, at least, what her elders told her. At this point, Shea didn’t care. Her own kind destroyed wishes in order to create something for themselves; a new home in which to live.

  It was blasphemy and horrible and just plain wrong, at least that’s what Shea thought. But when she would look around on her long walks to the Nursery and remember how much she loved her home, she understood the meaning of ‘bittersweet’. Her world was slowly disappearing, literally. Since her parents destroyed the True Love Wish ten years prior and removed their WishingKing, little by little the forests and trees were vanishing, leaving nothing more but a gleaming white edge to their land. It was just another reason to harbor the ever-increasing resentment for her deceased mother. What was impossible to forget was the price that came with creating their new home; a human needed to be their WishingKing. A WishingKing was a human who, every 100 years, the WishKeepers selected to sit upon the Paragonian throne. Not because it was a good idea, or even that a human owned such a realm, but because such a rule was needed in the completion of the dark magic used when destroying the wishes and creating their new land. Dark magic comes with a price, and the price was to always keep a physical connection between the human world and their own, and therefore a human needed to be crowned king.

  Even just his name flashed anger and hatred through Shea’s little body. The Keepers selected a man by the name of Erebus to be their WishingKing because of the supposedly powerful wishes he made in his lifetime. It didn’t take him long to get greedy and want the wishes for himself. And when a True Love wish was made, oh how he wanted it. Shea will never forget his face and she will never forget that he is the reason she’s handicapped.

  Even though Erebus had been cast away to the Maker’s world after her parents destroyed the last True Love Wish, she’d heard how he had taken over The Other Side and shuddered at the thought of what it looked like - consumed by his fog, dark, hopeless - and quickly remembered she would probably never get a chance to see it for herself. Wrangling and fulfilling wishes had become more and more difficult ever since and the lack of wish granting resulted in a vanishing Paragonia. By the time this thought clamped around her brain, she would find the other end of the Bittersweet Bridge and the front gate of the Wish Nursery directly in front of her. She never tired of the same thoughts, the same musings that ricocheted through her mind during her commute. As desperate and gloomy as they were, she grew used to them like supportive, best friends. She didn’t have any real friends, so she was thankful for how easy the thoughts returned every day. And by the time she made it to the Nursery, she needed to say goodbye to her friends and begin the monotony and annoyance of sweeping and cleaning the Wish pens, and adding sprinkle feed to the meal spouts. Most days the chores could be done in silence and without interruption. Today’s chores were bound to be interrupted by the ignorant and talentless Keeper recruits finishing their try-outs.

  The Wish Nursery - a massive compound of thatched roof barns, wooden stables, and small ponds that rimmed the base of the far eastern edge of the Paragonian Mountains - housed every wish brought from The Other Side. A decade ago, the Nursery was over flowing with wishes. Now it was nearly empty, sad, and lonely. The only thing Shea enjoyed about working in the Nursery was that it was easy to get lost and hide from the surrounding world…most days, anyway. On this day, the Nursery would be bombarded by a slew of Keeper recruits trying to impress their commanding officers by acting as though they knew what to do inside the Nursery. None of them really knew what to do with the wishes they’d wrangled, and Shea tried to stay out of sight any time the recruits came around. It wasn’t just because of how dumb their questions were, but more so, the wide-eyed, second looks that were filled with disgust as they noticed Shea’s charred wings. The inevitable bullying and name-calling was one thing, but words were easy to ignore. The spoken words don’t push against the chest as much as the silent ones. Freak, loser, disgusting imp. Names were just names and Shea had gotten used to them. Dumb questions could be dodged too. Can you feel them at all? How do you get around if you can’t fly? She would always smirk a little when that last one was asked. The smirks, though, only brought more abuse and sideways glances. A hardened exterior may deflect an onslaught, but even the toughest armor can be chipped away over time, and the never-ending, wordless stares were the most difficult to avert.

  She felt bad for the hopeful recruits, for their relentless hope and optimism. They were idiots for believing that a wish could be granted. Every day she was reminded of how dismal their fulfillment situation was - not one wish had been granted in almost a year and she saw firsthand what happened to wishes when they went unfulfilled.

  As she placed her wand into the Time and Attendance slot outside the main gate, Leroy, the same ancient guard that had been stationed at the stable gate for the past century or so, would always greet her the same way: a wink without looking at her, a click of his teeth, the tip of a non-existent hat and a line of, “Evenstar to the rescue.” Shea hated that fairy.

  She finally felt like she was awake enough to function outside of her thoughts and when Shea spoke to Leroy for the first time in ten years, she thought he was going to faint.

  “I’m not here to rescue anything and can you please just call me Shea!” she yelled, not giving Leroy a chance to start his greeting.

  The anger from her recent argument with her father and the sudden remembering of her mother’s birthday was still thick in her throat. She immediately felt a little guilty for snapping at him, but when he stared at her, Shea quickly realized that there was a very good chance he had never before noticed that her wings were broken. His look darted back and forth between her eyes and wings, and he was suddenly completely incapable of even a stuttered word. Shea felt a rush of disappointment flow through her. This might have been the only fairy in all of Paragonia who didn’t know her wings were the way they were. She felt like cursing out loud, but simply left the stunned fairy at the gate and went inside.

  “Evenstar! You’re back.
Good to have ya,” a curly haired, dopey looking Nursery Hand called out. He had a bright blue, puppy dog-like wish tugging on a spell that connected to the end of his wand. The wish’s tongue was wagging with excited breaths, and bulging eyes that were tightly shut, concentrating on the unintended game of tug-of-war. An Athletic Wish, one of the more annoying wishes to manage, though Shea always had a silent love for the Athletes. She liked how much they enjoyed showing off, but more so how difficult a time the Hands had while trying to keep them in their pens. Shea never had a problem with them.

  “I’m not back, Rufus. And stop pulling so hard on him. He just wants to play,” Shea replied as she walked through the main gate. Rufus relaxed his grip a bit and the Athlete stopped tugging.

  “Sure looks like you’re back,” Rufus said.

  “I’m not!”

  “Shea. Shea Evenstar, miss. Miss Shea,” Tully always greeted everyone three times before starting his obsessively compulsive conversations. Shea called him Three Times Tully as a friendly joke, but since he never understood why she called him that, the joke just simply became a name.

  “I know my orders today, Three Times. No need for roll call, thanks.” Tully was the Nursery supervisor and Shea never blamed him for being constantly nervous. Security Posts were to be manned and operated throughout the Nursery, and Roll Call was necessary to ensure that each Nursery Hand understood his or her responsibilities every day. Shea felt that Roll Call was virtually pointless, seeing as though so few wishes were in need of tending in the first place. Still, it wasn’t easy managing the wishes, much less the Keepers that came and went on a daily basis, and Shea was at least relatively willing to be patient with Tully. On a day where moronic recruits were going to be shuffling in and out, Tully’s anxiety was expected to be at an all time high.

  “Yes, you know your post orders, I appreciate that Miss Shea, but your post orders have…”

  “Damn. They’re early,” Shea spotted a group of roughly ten young fairies flying toward the Nursery. They each had bright, excited wishes attached to wrangling spells, as if they’d caught a balloon with a rope. It was always clear which recruit had wrangled a Money Wish. They were rarely able to stay in rank. A few recruits were tossed, pulled and whipped in every direction as they tried handling their Monies. Impossibly rude and having no regard for the wishing process, Money Wishes had a green glow and a pointed, cone shape - ugly as trolls, Shea thought. Even though the wishes didn’t speak - they squeaked more than anything - the Monies had a way with their squeaking that was immediately annoying.

  “But, uh, Miss Shea, your post orders,” Tully tried to continue.

  “Only ten this year. The Keeper force is really kickin’ ass, eh Tully? Rufus!” Shea called out. “You’ve got some Athletes coming your way. A couple Ladders too. I’ll handle the Purities.”

  “You always handle the Purities,” Rufus grumbled and tied up the Athlete he’d been struggling with.

  “Relax. I’ll take the Monies too.”

  Shea removed a wand from her side, released a deep, annoyed breath and called out, “Purities and Monies over here! Ladders and Athletes, to your left!”

  The recruits split up and flew toward various areas of the Nursery. Two groups careened toward Shea, but only Tully was nervous. Shea rolled her eyes as she watched them fly in. Two fairies had Purities wrapped in wrangling spells. They landed perfectly in front of Shea, barely out of breath.

  “Went for the easy ones, eh?” Shea said to the two female recruits. They looked at each other, blushing, knowing that they did, in fact, take the easy route.

  “Don’t worry. I would have done the same thing,” Shea said, still keeping her eyes on the incoming recruits struggling to bring their Monies.

  Purities are pink, peaceful, consistently happy little wishes that always float directly toward their Keeper. They rarely put up a fuss and would rather help a WishKeeper than hinder any part of the wishing process. They represent a Maker’s wish for health, spiritual and family prosperity and so on. Rather boring, Shea thought, but they are quite easy to manage.

  Shea lazily waved her wand from left to right, sending yellow sparks in an arch above her. The Monies dashed to the sparks, forcefully pulling their recruits. Not one recruit landed on his feet. It was just another attempt to try and show off. Recruits assumed that wrangling a Money Wish would give them high marks, but the wild and obnoxious wishes usually ended up embarrassing them.

  One recruit crashed to the ground and rolled to Shea’s feet. He still had the wish wrangled with a spell, which was somewhat impressive, but Shea didn’t bother addressing him as he quickly stood up and gathered himself.

  “Purities inside, through the main hall, to the right and in the Purity Garden.”

  The two female recruits walked their happy little Purities into the main hall of the Nursery while the rest of the recruits had their arms yanked and tugged while awaiting orders.

  “OK, the rest of you...” CRACK!

  The sound of a whip pulled her attention to a tall, muscular young recruit about twice her size. He did it again - CRACK! The recruit whipped his spell like a rope and cracked a wrangling spell, over and over, around the small Money. The wish winced as he did it again.

  His nose was sharply pointed and his bright green hair was spiked to a tip at the top of his head. He looked like the typical WishKeeper that was trying too hard, but despite the obvious efforts to look the part, Shea could tell this recruit was probably one of the few that would actually complete the training and move on. He was cocky, strong, and tall - all of the things that just made Shea hate him even more. She wanted to crack a whip at him, slash a bloody cut under his eye, tackle him and ask him how it felt.

  The blood drained from her knuckles as she tightened her grip around her wand. It sparked just enough for the recruit to notice. Even though monotonous work involved in the Nursery annoyed every little bit of Shea, she did still love the wishes. Mishandling them was unacceptable. Seeing a WishKeeper treating them with disrespect - punishable.

  “What’s up with your wand? Malfunctioning?” the recruit said, shaking his head, purposely taunting. “You should get that checked out.” He knew she didn’t have any authority over him, and loved every bit of it.

  “Follow me, please,” she said through a clenched jaw, trying to ignore the self-righteous recruit. She didn’t have any power over him, and her reaction the last time a recruit mishandled his wish dismissed Shea to well-washing duty for a week. On top of not wanting to scrape bird crap off of unused wishing wells, she just wanted her Nursery duties to be over. The sooner the better.

  She waved them down a wide, weed-covered path. It wound around the edge of the main hall toward a large pasture that was lined with ivy-covered fences. The Money pens. She took a couple steps, but paused and heaved a frustrated sigh as she noticed a small, skinny little recruit trying to keep up.

  “You,” she addressed him, annoyed. “What kind of wish is that?”

  “Uh,” he blushed, and looked up at his wish. A bright purple wish was circling his head like a hawk. “A Money?”

  “What color are Monies?” she asked.

  His little brain was working overtime. “Green.” He quickly noticed his was purple. “Oh…”

  “Again; what kind of wish is that?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

  His face was blank.

  “Ladder Wishes represent?” she asked, impatient, waiting for a reply. Nothing. “Since when am I your Wish Instructor? Come on! Maker career advancement. Home improvement. Education! What’s wrong with you, idiots?” More blank stares, though the muscular, pointed-hair recruit was laughing. She sighed again and continued down the dirt path.

  “I should have wrangled a Death Wish. The crippled Nursery Hand wouldn’t be so disrespectful,” the muscular recruit mumbled with a smirk as he jabbed the Ladder-holding fairy.

  Cripple. It made her boney wings tingle every time she heard the word. When she was young, it would make her run away
to a secluded corner of the world and cry the anger away, but she had since learned to harness her anger. Anger that rarely resulted in a positive outcome, at least for the fairy that said it.

  Her blood boiled as she quickly bounded toward him, wand sparking. Tully yelped and jumped in front of her.

  “You may just get your wish, punk!” Shea yelled.

  “Miss Shea!” Tully cried. “You’re scaring the recruits, miss. And please, your post orders!”

  “Scaring? Yeah,” the cocky recruit didn’t budge, laughing over Shea’s outburst.

  “I know my post orders, Tully! Just let me do my job!”

  “Your post orders have changed!” a voice called out from behind Shea. Beren was behind her and nothing about his glare was happy.

  “General Beren. Sir. General, sir,” Tully said, nervous.

  Shea rolled her eyes, and sent a lazy salute to her dad.

  “We need all of the GateKeepers reporting to their respective Gates, Shea. There’s one recruit left to cross over, but we’ve lost sight of him. You’re done here.”

  “Thank you,” Shea said, already stomping toward the Nursery exit.

  “Hey,” her dad called out. He approached her in a low, serious voice. “These recruits just risked their lives for a training session. You have no idea how difficult it is to wrangle a wish.”

  “Yeah, they have it so tough. I really feel bad for them,” Shea said. Her snarky remark was not what her ill-tempered father wanted to hear.

  “Drop the attitude!” he yelled. “It’s this kind of attitude -“

  “Those wishes aren’t even real! They’re training-wishes!” Shea yelled back.

  Beren paused, fuming. He released a tension-filled deep breath. “If I ever hear you talk back to a recruit like that again, you’re done and will never leave the house. You understand me?”

  “Whatever,” Shea said as she spun and continued her brisk, frustrated walk out of the Nursery. No Keeper ever used her Gate and she was more than happy to leave and spend the rest of her day relaxing. She secretly hoped that the recruit lost on The Other Side wouldn’t come back. One less WishKeeper wannabe to worry about.