As the sign was speeding up and reached an enormous height, the more and more freezing wind became painful, stinging deeper and deeper into their bodies. The noisy wind had also rendered them unable to talk to each other — now, that they were finally were all together, they had not been able to exchange a single word. They had also closed their eyes, unable to keep them open in this brutal storm. Suddenly, as the pain became more and more unbearable, the fairy moved her head, nudging Simetra with her nose. Opening their eyes with some effort, they looked at each other. Simetra noticed the pain and exhaustion in the fairy’s facial expression, and in her eyes, there was an undeniable begging — as if she expected Simetra to do something about this freezing force. But what could she, a mere bird, do?
Sure, she was definitely the one among them most used to flight. Her feathers usually protected her well against the cold, but she had never flown this fast and high in her life before. Carefully, she tried to unfold her wings, to get a better feeling about the actual speed — only to be caught by the immense cold and air pressure even more. This was even faster than she had ever went when rushing down as fast as she could, her wings would not be able to stand this force for long. Quickly, she retracted them again, keeping them as close as possible to her body. What did the fairy mean to say with this strange look in her eyes? Watching her, she saw her eyes move down to her feathers. The feathers which protected her from the cold. The very same feathers which had changed colour a while ago, brightening up a bit, and still glowing ever so slightly. She remembered the words of the fairy — she was supposed to be a magical creature? If that was true, maybe the fairy was asking here to use this magic to protect them from the cold winds. But how would she do that? She knew next to nothing about magic in the first place…
She remembered how the fairy moved her hands to work magic. A bird could not do that, and she would not even know which movements were needed — she had been unable to capture the movements of the fairy, which looked very refined, elegant, and somehow as if they were deeply engraved into her, triggered by instinct, without thought about every single action. How could she ever hope to do something like this, without any training which would make these movements natural to her? Closing her eyes and recalling the situation, she also remembered the fairy was in a state of absentminded concentration during her spells — at the same time focused, but also somehow out of it, as if this was a natural thing to her. Instinctual indeed. Surely, the first step would be to enter that state of mind. Simetra focused on her goal: Protect them, share the warmth and shielding of her feathers. She opened her eyes, starting down, taking in the new colour of her feathery coat, slowly expanding her wings in front of her such as not to catch the wind, turning them to better take in the picture of her own feathers. Closing her eyes again, she focused hard on an image of the feathers shaping a sphere around them, protecting them — focusing harder and harder, the tension in her muscles increased more and more.
While she was tensing up, the fairy carefully and reassuringly touched her head — she must have taken one of her hands off the handles, neglecting safety. Simetra opened her eyes again, looking at the fairy, who slowly shook her head with closed eyes. The bird realized she was taking the wrong approach: Focusing hard is the exact opposite of the instinctual, calm and natural manner she had observed the fairy working magic before. Simetra nodded slightly, breathed in deeply, and exhaled, calming down herself. She had to hold the pictures in her mind, but not force them into being — accept them as the natural outcome, taking it for granted as the obvious thing to happen. The tension slowly left her, and the pictures in her mind became clearer. She opened her eyes, looking at her wings again — she had clasped them together in instinct, to protect against the wind, and in a further attempt to reduce the tension in her body, she tried to relax them, keeping the images clearly in mind. Slowly, the glow around her body brightened, and surprised as she was, she tensed up again and the effect broke down. She had to try again, harder but at the same time less hard than before — it felt like she was on track with this approach, and shooting the fairy a sideways glance, she could make out a smile on the pained face of the magical being.
This time, Simetra breathed in deeply and exhaled again, slowly, two times, three times in a row. She forced herself to ignore the cold, the wind, the gushing of the wind around her. Closing her eyes, she only had the vision of her feathers, of a feathery, protective sphere in mind. She opened her eyes again, overlaying that image with reality. She relaxed her wings, still keeping them pointed towards the front of her body, calmly looking forward. She could see her glow brightening ever so slightly, and her wings seemed to move on their won accord, following a strange pattern — at first, she was again slightly surprised, and the movements were stuck for a moment, but she quickly regained her calm composure. This time, she expected it — or, at least it was less surprising, even if it was still far from natural to her. The glow brightened more and more, and she continued her thoughts, imagining the effect of the sphere of protection as if it was real already — warmth, the wind stopping around them. Her thoughts became more and more detailed: Next, she imagined the feathers being thin and soft, like down feathers, but also see-through, allowing them to watch their surroundings. Her wings seemed to move faster and faster, and the images were blending into her own reality more and more.
Several long seconds later, she felt her wings stopping, relaxing — had she lost this magical state of mind again? While she was doubting herself, she could feel the fairy’s hand on her head, and from the corner of her eyes, she could see her friend turning around, eyes open, staring between her and the fairy, surprised — and she knew her own reality had merged with the reality all of them perceived. ‘You have done well, you really are a natural talent at magic’, the fairy said in a calm and friendly voice. She was visibly relieved, and both from her voice and facial expression, it was clear that she was utterly exhausted and might fall asleep any minute.
He was shocked, taken aback by the sudden protective layer appearing around them. Did the fairy contribute this magic, though she seemed so exhausted just moments ago? He turned around, thankful, but saw an unusual expression once his eyes reached Simetra — her wings were completely relaxed, and she seemed to be in a strangely composed, serene state — and the fairy was touching her head, smiling. His thankfulness immediately changed into surprise. Touching her head is something Simetra would not allow for just any stranger — and did this mean that Simetra did this? When, and how, did she learn about magic?
Watching her closely, he could clearly see a light emanating from her feathers. They were not only brighter than before, but it almost seemed as if she had a magical aura, not unlike the fairy herself. And when the fairy suddenly acknowledged that Simetra had apparently worked this spell, he could only gasp in awe. ‘How…?’, he stammered, the sentence breaking off as he tried to phrase the question.
‘Your friend Simetra has learned the fundamentals of magic all by herself’, the fairy said. ‘While she may have watched me before we escaped, and when I healed your broken body, I have not instructed her at all.’
He realized, at that point, that this was clearly not the time to watch in surprise and ask strange questions. After all, he had arrived on a plant grown into a signpost to recue them — and even before that, he had neither introduced himself nor exchanged a single word with the fairy until now. Determined to change that, he made up his mind on how to start; his rare contacts with other human beings surely did not help his confidence, he’d never really had to introduce himself, let alone to a beautiful, magical creature which was, as he had read before, rarely ever seen by human beings, and usually fled on first sight when encountering humans.
He cleared his throat to gain a few seconds more to push up his self-confidence. ‘I am sorry, this encounter went a bit — different from how it should have been. My name is Apollo, and this is my longest and dearest friend, Simetra.’
‘I must also apologize. I have not interacted with humans for many years, and have grown quite unaccustomed to conversation. You may call me Aurora, and while I can’t say the chain of events up to now has been delightful, I am looking forward to making your acquaintance’, the fairy called Aurora responded with tired eyes.
‘You may be surprised, but I have also almost not conversed with other humans in the past ten years. I have almost lived an hermit’s life — you are the first encounter since a decade who is not shunning me.’ With these words, he raised one hand from the handle he had held onto up to now, and stretched it out to greet the fairy. She looked down slightly astonished, but remembered the human ritual to shake hands, and grabbed on with her pale and thin, but smooth and silky hand.
The touching hand made his body explode with a calming, relieving warmth from deep within. As if this was a signal for him, he felt the exhaustion from the experience during the past hours creep into his bones, making his eyelids droop — but he knew neither of them could relax while holding on to the handles on the floating sign. Even though they were now protected from the wind, they were far from being seated in a safe place. As before, without pushing for an answer, he asked himself how this obstacle could be overcome. Sitting down, relaxing in safety — an image was created in his mind, showing him sitting on a rocking chair at the fireplace, in his old home back in the village. Feeling this rocking sensation, he felt he was moving, lifted up, and placed in a seat. Simetra, during these evenings, sat on a natural branch he had fixed to the wall — envisioning her in that image, and thinking about the second chair they had for guests being used by the fairy, he relaxed slowly, and felt his thoughts melding into reality: The wood of the sign expanded, forming into two chairs and growing into a tiny tree with a small branch in between them. Gently, also Aurora was lifted up, and both of them slowly descended onto the chairs, while Simetra fluttered up as soon as she felt that sudden movement, and then descended upon the newly-grown tree. All of them seemed to have stopped questioning these strange happenings by now — they were just melding into their reality. After Apollo was safely seated, the exhaustion took over, and he fell into a deep, silent sleep.
‘I must apologize for him, I never imagined he’d fall asleep mid-conversation, but then, he has also never worked magic before’, Simetra broke the silence, watching Aurora who could barely fight the exhaustion. ‘We’ve been bonded for a lifetime, and share an uncountable number of memories together. We feel so close as if we are one, acting in unison.’
‘I understand. You’ve come quite close, so also your natural talent for magic seems to be shared, even in case you never worked magic before. I believe I can not stay awake much longer, but I can say that magic is more than meets the eye — magic is also a way of bonding and communicating, and by sharing a part of your life and soul, you also share your magic abilities. But it seems he has overexerted himself quite a bit in the last hours, and his power is depleted — we all need rest, and the environment finally seems safe enough for us to accept this graciously. Given the recent events, we should use any chance we’ve been granted to refill our batteries. This surely was not the last encounter…’
She yawned, and Simetra nodded nervously. ‘I will keep watch with one eye, so please rest assured we will remain safe. Don’t worry, I am used to this, and can still rest all the same’, Simetra pointed out. With this, the last bit of strength left Aurora’s face, and with a smile, she fell asleep in the comfortable, wooden chair, racing through the skies on a grown sign, engulfed in a sphere of transparent, protective feathers.
