The Wizard – The final insult

Bare walls, rough walls, the once neatly cut and pristine stone walls of the Tower were gone. He looked down. The wooden flooring disappeared, leaving behind the rough stone that once was underneath it. Frozen for a moment, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing; then it hit him.

“My research!” he either shouted, or thought, or wailed. He wasn’t sure, for it felt like a sort of out-of-body experience. Rushing towards where his study once was, he looked in: moldy papers, a mountain of trash. Were those once his books? He looked around, there were moldy parchments on the rough floor, like remember leaving them. Panting, he turned towards his room; it had always been in front of his study. The door was still there. Unlike the one in his study room, now he noticed. So, he pushed it open a bit. It gave with a wailing scream before falling off its hinges with a loud bang. That startled him; what terrified him more was the wind it generated, almost putting out his torch. With a startle, he turned to protect it, almost embracing it like a child, until it burned a bit of his beard. Putting out that hair fire, he turned to face his room.

There was nothing there, just a hard stone slab of a bed and little else. Where were the soft curtains? His soft and large bed? The store room, now he remembered. With terror, he went to it; the door, much more solid than the other, still worked like before. It opened with a scream, revealing the same emptiness as before. With terror, he approached the barrel, the last of his food remains. Even though he knew, even though he was aware, he had to see it for himself. Slowly, the edge of the torchlight revealed the barrel, like a specter from the dark it appeared. Then he heard it, the skittering noises. Swallowing hard, precious water being lost through sweat, he approached the barrel, the skittering noises intensifying as he neared. One last stretch and he saw inside: a mass of insects, all white and soft, all around them cracked egg sacs.

Expressionless, he backed off. Resisting the urge to set everything on fire, he closed the door. Clamping his emotions hard, he gave the base of the tower a once-over. There was nothing, nothing at all. So, he went back to the entrance. That’s when he remembered the meaning of what tower is.

“Should I look up?” he asked himself. Again, he could have said it out loud, or thought it, but he didn’t notice. For some reason, the mere thought terrified him. He turned, looking at the stairs. Yep, they were still there, the same stone stairs as before. Just, he couldn’t dare to see up above, to look at where he once had looked so much before. It felt as if something alive resided there, its cold and harsh breath being released over him. It even almost put out his torch again. He turned, protecting it again.

Then he remembered, the library down below, but now hot air emerged, repeating the same thing as before. Only that this time it made him retch; it caused him difficulty to breathe.

Somehow, someway, the message was clear: get out. Slowly, carrying only what he had on him, he left the Tower, or what once had been the Tower. He closed the exterior door one final time, and the noise it made sounded like a sentence. Now, torch in hand, and still resisting the urge to puke, he checked his things. The fire started, the torch and with it the long wood stick… and little else. Sure, there were his hands, but nothing more. Though he felt as if he was forgetting something, something important. Looking around the hole, he saw a stone in a somewhat knife shape; he grabbed it and put it in his belt. Still, it felt as if he was forgetting something, something important.

He looked up; through the hole, he could see the starry night sky, points of light shining invitingly. Magically… That was when he realized. Opening his eyes wide, it would be the final insult, the final slap, the final everything.

He extended his hand, finger pointing away, and tried to conjure lightning; he pictured it with all his might but couldn’t. He used every trick he had ever learned, but couldn’t.

Where was his magic?