Interruption Six
An Uncertain Amount of Time Later
Walking Through the Grimnight Forest
Confused
The Grimnight Forest was no longer cursed.
The ancient trees remained but the unnatural darkness had dissipated, allowing sunlight to stream through the canopy for the first time in fifty years.
Ghost wolves did not howl in the distance.
More importantly, people filled the forest. Dozens, if not hundreds, working together to clear out the overgrown flora and cut down the trees.
“Not so grim anymore,” Cyril observed.
Lucinda sighed despondently as she watched a group of people chopping a felled tree into logs.
“What a waste of a perfectly lovely tree.” The tree’s knots formed a haunting face, screaming in agony and rage.
Yet there was something lackluster about the features—as if the tree was ready to retire from its long career of horror, perhaps become a nice side table or log for the fire.
“Does this mean … the quest succeeded?” Francesca asked.
Godwin sighed. “In the original timeline, their quest succeeded. However, because the apprentice reset the timeline, the quest never happened.”
“But they broke the curse!”
“This is one of the reasons people should not meddle with time,” Godwin groused.
“Once the curse’s physical anchor was destroyed, it ceased to exist in this world, and thus time can no longer affect it.
Regardless of how the apprentice manipulates the timeline, there are things he cannot change.
This is how chaos is born—by creating a world with altered fates and paradoxes and unexplainable events.
So yes, the curse was broken, but not by the champions, who, in this timeline, have not completed their quest.”
“I don’t understand.” The queen sounded so small and uncertain.
“He’s saying that the children did all of that work for no reward,” Cyril replied. “Quite common, when you work with a good wizard. How much did you charge the royal families for that crock of shit you call a spell?”
“It is not a crock of shit! It is a work of art! The hardest spell I’ve ever—” Godwin snapped his mouth shut and froze, waiting for the pocket dimension to kick him out.
“How much?” Cyril repeated.
Godwin didn’t dignify that with an answer. All he wanted to do was defend himself and his council, but he couldn’t risk botching his own mission. “The point is: in this timeline, the royal champions have not yet fulfilled the components for the defense spell.”
Francesca cocked her head to the side and tapped her chin. “So, all the children have to do to complete the defense spell is defeat another Great and Terrible Evil? I know just the person!”
Lucinda wrapped her hand protectively around Cyril’s arm and bared her teeth at the queen. “Mind your words carefully, Franny. I’m not above threatening friends.”
“Oh no! I would never recommend Cyril! He is your husband first, a mage second. I simply meant that we are currently in a pocket dimension created by a powerful mage who has apparently kidnapped thousands of people.”
Godwin sputtered in indignation. “He is not a mage, he is an apprentice. He has earned no title!”
“But you admit he’s Great?” Francesca capitalized the word so everyone understood she meant ‘powerful’ and that she was not trying to weasel a compliment from Godwin.
“I mean, yes, this is a level of magic rarely seen—”
“And if the Good Wizard’s Council has involved itself, he must be Terrible.”
Godwin continued to sputter, decorating the air and his companions’ clothes with his outraged spittle. “It isn’t the same!”
“Well, if he’s neither Great nor Terrible, I don’t see why we’re here,” Cyril drawled. “Without its curse, the forest isn’t that interesting either.”
Lucinda’s dark eyes sparkled as she played along. “I’d hate to cut our vacation short, but I did see a lovely swamp on our way here that might be a nice alternative.”
Godwin’s jaw clenched. “You will not bully me into bestowing a title onto a rogue apprentice without going through the proper channels.”
“Remember your role, Godwin,” Cyril said. “Right now, you’re an evil apprentice, and evil always breaks the rules.”
Godwin ignored him and stomped ahead through the forest. He wished the roots still held some of their viciousness, if only to trip Cyril.
As the malicious thought flashed through Godwin’s mind, he grabbed it and wrestled it into submission, stuffing it into a mental box.
He was temporarily evil in name only; he would not give in to any evil urges.