The Wizard's Wife

Art by An May, used under purchased commercial license.

It was the best smell in the world: fresh coffee perched on a tray hovering towards her from the open bedroom door, an earthy aroma drifting in its wake. Sitting up in her bed with a stretch, the tray sat itself down on her side-table. Silvana Shadewillow graciously accepted the cup, delighted by her husband's thoughtfulness.

Drawing in a tentative sip, her eyes fluttered shut when she tasted it — extra cream, a dash of sugar — it was her perfect cup of coffee. When she opened her eyes again, she finally noticed the accompanying little breakfast her sweet Markous prepared. As she luxuriated in the warmth of both the gesture and the meal, an unnaturally cool wind crawled down her spine; a bristling, tingling sensation raising gooseflesh all along her back.

It must be the coffee, she thought, shaking off the feeling by tossing aside the covers.

The gentle rays of sunlight filtering through the windows pulled her back into the moment as she climbed down from her bed. Silvana was blissfully unaware of the thing beneath it, hungrily watching her.

The wardrobe swung open as she approached, the dresses within drifting forward to present themselves one at a time. She flipped through each of them like pages in a catalog. Silvana’s room was full of many such enchanted luxuries, all thanks to her husband’s careful tinkering. That he devoted so much time and care to small, innocuous things always made her smile.

The thing under the bed watched her dress, reviled by her joy. It would take it all away in an instant if it could. It yearned for those brief moments of shadow, stray thoughts hidden behind distraction.

A cool breeze cut through Silvana's coat as she trekked out the back door and mounted her bike. She figured out the quickest way to the college was to go in a straight line, and though no such roads existed, the bike knew how to fly.

Picking up speed, her bike lurched and rose into the air. In this airborne commute, she mingled with the city's wealthy and gifted, only for whom flight was normally reserved. Enchanted by the waking life of the city below, she failed to notice the inky black tendrils trailing behind her, nor the shadow clinging desperately to her billowing coat.

Arriving at the main lecture hall, Silvana secured her bike to a security rack beneath the building's looming shadow. With a tug of brass handles, she pushed open imposing doors of worn, dark wood. They made her feel insignificant and small as they screeched open in the dimly lit, silent corridor.

When finally she made it to the safety of the administrative wing, she was greeted by the radiating heat of a large, roaring fireplace, which never went out. Glowing orbs twinkled like stars within a shadowy void overhead as she walked among thick, stone columns toward a small wooden desk sequestered near her husband's vacant office. The desktop was illuminated by a floating crystal ball, joined by a grandiose armchair. Much like other gifts provided by her husband, it was enchanted to be as comfortable as possible.

Silvana dropped her bag, sat down, and drew out her quill. For a moment she only stared at the wall, tapping the tip of her quill on her armchair as she contemplated the mountain of paperwork sitting before her.

The only way out is through, she thought, sighing as she began organizing the pile.

Shortly after she fell into the rhythm of her work, a student came in looking for the headmaster. As his secretary, Silvana dealt with all individuals who sought him out when he was away on business. This happened much more often than she would have liked, considering the mass of paperwork she had to get through, every visit was an affront to her focus. Even if this latest outing was a last second decision, he needed to make better announcements.

The next person to interrupt her workflow was a dean, judging from how they held themselves. Silvana stood up as they approached, a respectful custom at the college.

"Greetings," Silvana said. "How may I help you?"

"Yes, is the headmaster in?"

Not even a hello back. Okay, then.

"No, something came up,” she smiled, attempting to keep the situation under control. “He is taking care of personal matters today. I would be glad to take a message for you."

"What kind of personal matters? We had a meeting scheduled, today."

"It’s private. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm happy to reschedule your meeting for a day this week that works best for you."

The dean's eyes narrowed, probing her, as if searching for some crack in her presentation. Silvana felt their resentment, as if it were her fault her husband failed to show up today. The shadow, now Doubt, crawled up and around her neck from under her desk. Its long tail slithered down her spine, and she grew uneasy. Moisture appeared in the palm of her hands, a shiver rolling from her neck to her toes. The dean was angry, it was obvious, but it wasn't her fault.

After a long moment, they asked, "Can't you message him for me?"

Silvana's smile faltered. The deans knew she possessed no magical talent. Markous informed them when they were all hired, to avoid future confusion.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I can write one down and pass it along later," she responded, trying not to overthink it.

"Why not? Surely, he will respond to you, of all people."

"I—I can't do that. He might be in the middle of something important. I don't have any way to do so, either. No trinkets or innate magical capabilities," she explained, forcing the smile again. Silvana locked eyes with the dean, scanning for any micro-expressions that might hint at their inner thoughts.

Doubt’s constant, shrill voice spoke in her ear, pointing out details supporting the notion of the dean's resentment for her. Silvana's heart pounded loud enough to deafen her to her surroundings, but she tried to ignore it. She did everything to adhere to the strange propriety of the magical world, but all she could do was fidget and languish beneath the dean's gaze.

"I see. Well, I will leave the message with you, hoping it will be passed on."

Well, that’s rude. Without saying anything else, she wrote down the message on an index card. When she finished, it folded itself into a bird, flying into the headmaster’s office. The dean left unceremoniously — not a ‘thank you,’ or any other pleasantries she was expected to return at all times.

Doubt wrapped around her neck like a vise, attaching to her like moss to a tree. Dropping her head into her hands, Silvana hid behind her long, flowing hair. Her chest heaved, her breathing came in panicked gasps.

Why is this happening? Whatever the reason was, she knew she had to get over it. Silvana forced herself to take deep, slow breaths, steadying her mind from all the troublesome thoughts and feelings distracting her from her work.

As the morning wore on, more people came looking for the headmaster. Often, Silvana felt they unduly lashed out at her when she informed them of his absence. There was only so much frustration she was willing to deal with, and this morning had already exceeded her limit. Deciding that she had more than enough messages, she left for lunch.

There was a new restaurant she wanted to scope out, The Wizards’ Watering Hole, to see if it would make for a fun surprise date once Markous had a free evening. It wasn’t even that far of a bike ride!

Doubt slinked after her, attaching itself to the underside of the bike seat. Even though it was invisible to Silvana, it knew she could hear it perfectly. Doubt enjoyed playing with her perception, making her believe people were yelling rude remarks from a distance. Silvana’s eyebrows furrowed, confidence fading as the conjured words set into her subconscious.

Silvana knew she was at the right place when she landed near an arched, stained glass window depicting a wizard hovering over a pond. The window was embedded on a sourceless wall, seemingly standing of its own force of will. She had learned the clever, and sometimes over the top, methods wizards used to conceal their haunts. Resting her hand on the glass, the window rippled beneath her touch. She pushed through the portal, cold engulfed her body, as if she plunged into a pool of ice cold water.

When Silvana recovered, she noticed each circular table section was themed around a different area of magical study. Gold, silver, and copper wire wound through the floor, connecting to tables like ley lines. After a few minutes of waiting fruitlessly for a host to seat her, she sat herself at a small table in front of a waterfall decoration that smelled like spring wildflowers around her home.

Doubt darted from table to table, shadow to shadow trailing her.

The extensive menu covered everything she and Markous enjoyed about fine dining. She heard every dish was accompanied with a brief show. Each dish had something unique added to it, an extra treat for the patrons. The shrimp came alive and did a little dance around the cocktail sauce bowl and the cheese fondue was actually a floating orb that changed shape every time someone dipped into it.

So Silvana waited and waited... and waited. After about fifteen agonizing minutes, nobody had come to her table. She could hear whispers all around her. You did something wrong already. Everyone here thinks you're an idiot. Trying to reject that intrusive thought, she stopped the next employee she saw wisp by.

"Excuse me. How do I order?" she asked, holding onto their sleeve. The man stopped, looking down at her with a mixed look of shock and — is that look disgust? It couldn't have been; she didn't do anything wrong.

"You send a message to the cooks in the back."

"Well, what if you can't cast magic?"

He squinted his eyes. "Then why would you come to a mage-only restaurant?"

"To try it out; so I can come back with my husband later."

"Well, I'm here now. What would you want to eat then?" Seeing his blank stare from below, the server looked annoyed by the accommodation.

After Silvana placed her order, it looked to her he walked off in a fit like a petulant child. Alone with her thoughts, she wondered what she did to deserve that kind of response. How could they be so brazen about not liking non-mages? It’s illegal to discriminate against people like me, isn't it? I should never come here again.

Someone giggled behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she swore she saw someone point at her. Silvana imagined her curt discussion with the server became the small talk of the cafe. Over the next few minutes, she counted three more people peeking over at her before rushing back to their conversations. Guess they don't get a lot of gossip here.

"They think you're an idiot," Doubt told her, a voice in her head, becoming hard to ignore. "Why did you come here without asking around first? You knew they only served magic users."

Fixing her eyes on an imperfection in the table, Silvana folded her hands into her lap gathering her willpower. She will not cry in public, not from this. Why would they act like this?

Feeling its strength rapidly grow, Doubt shifted from under the table to sit next to Silvana. It listened to the voices around them, kicking its feet in delight at her distress. It decided to help her by telling her about the looks of disgust people cast her way, how none of them liked her, her mundane existence soured the mood for everyone around.

Silvana realized people who came in after her got their drinks and appetizers before she did. Where was her food? Almost as if the kitchen read her mind, it appeared at the service window with only a puff of smoke; no show or accompanying pizzazz this place was known for.

Shoulders slumped, head hanging low, she crossed in view of the whole room to get her food. It was preferable to making a scene of getting someone to bring it to her. She swore she heard jeering laughter as she passed by a table of enchantment students.

Hot spices wafted towards her as the curry glistened on her plate, but because the bowl was so hot, she couldn't carry it with her bare hands. This was too much. She couldn't stand it anymore; it was too embarrassing. These jerks didn’t deserve her money, so she walked out leaving the food behind.

Doubt jumped up and bounced away from the table to catch up to Silvana, growing in size with every shameful step she took. Limbs stretched as its body filled out, and when it finally caught up to her, it stood at Silvana’s height. It felt better now that it could stretch and keep pace with her, not scurrying around in the shadows like a tiny mouse.

Her face flushed from embarrassment, Silvana tried to find some silver lining to calm her down, to reframe the whole experience to be in some way positive. Mindlessly wandering on her bike, she found herself in the market square. Colorful stalls lined the street with all kinds of wares out in the open for everyone to browse. She focused on the savory aroma of marinated, dragonfire smoked meats hanging from a butcher's stall. Not far down, she saw a handful of other stalls selling vegetables and herbs from home gardens. Buyers bickered all around, bartering over eversharp kitchen knives, or hand carved, autonomous wooden animals for kids.

All the colors in the scene were muted to her eyes; gray and bland, tainted from the day’s troubles. The edges of that grayness faded to pure black, a vignette tunneling her vision as Doubt seeped into her mind. Small black tendrils swam at the edges of that darkness, and she found the usually exciting act of shopping to be entirely pointless.

"Hello there, Silv!" Someone said, pulling her away from her thoughts. "How are you doing?" A gray faced person stood in front of her, nondescript as everyone else.

"Doing well, thanks for asking!” She hesitated, the response was so automatic. “I hope things are going great for you, too."

"They are, thanks! Hope the husband isn't causing you too much trouble."

"Oh, you know him."

The gray shadow shifted in their pastry stall, “Well would you like some of my tarts to take home? Freshly made this morning with the first harvest of the season.”

“No, thank you. Maybe next time!” Silvana rushed into the crowd, trying to get away from the awkward conversation.

"They only want to point out your dependence on him. Why else mention him?" Doubt interjected. It could see every judgmental glare, and it took every opportunity to point them out.

Silvana didn't stop to chit-chat with anyone else. Doubt kept her company, whispering dark confirmations as they walked in step. Now, standing a head above everyone else, it could easily spot all the gossip it needed to thrive. Doubt loved Silvana, she was such a good listener! But Silvana was none the wiser, she did not know Doubt walked with her, nor that it filled her head with its parasitic fears.

Silvana hurried home on her bike, her heart palpitating with uneven intensity. She told herself it was the exertion of pedaling, rather than the onset of panic, and she chose not to recognize that the bike pedaled itself through the afternoon sky. Tonight will be a simple dinner, something fast and easy.

Being home helped to calm her down, and preparing dinner was a fine distraction. Cooking was a genuine joy, a craft she prided herself on. Doubt reveled in the smells of the crushed spices, watching her prepare a meal big enough for both of them. It was excited to eat, now that it was big enough to work up an appetite. Once in a while, it became confused by what she was doing, second guessing her handiwork. Doubt informed her whenever this happened — and it happened a lot. Her reactions were priceless, and it took every ounce of Doubt's meager restraint not to double over with laughter when Silvana over-corrected a minor mistake and had to start the dish over from scratch.

Doubt was getting cramped in the kitchen. It sat behind Silvana on its knees, curling around her. It had fed so much that it could reach from one end of the kitchen to the other, its wrists pressing against the walls as its head scraped the ceiling. One deep, sour breath would send every item in the room flying.

Doubt reminded her of every idiosyncrasy that happened today, scrolling over each event like it was poring over dusty old tomes for tiny details. It didn’t stop there, either. It continued to chat endlessly about events from a few days ago, enjoying the sound of its voice. She was almost vulnerable enough to take over. She just needed to fall over the edge and it could finally take control!

"You know they only value you because of your husband," it told her. Silvana shook her head, she didn't want to believe that. "No one takes you seriously. Why do you try to prove anything? You've lost it all; you have nothing to offer anymore. No magic, no knowledge, nothing," it went on, its voice growling deep in its throat.

Silvana stopped chopping and looked at her reflection in the knife. Smeared with onion juice; her reflection was fuzzy, viewed between the tears and residue staining the blade.

Ugly.

"You're absolutely useless. You lost everything! There's no making up for it? Useless! End all of this and stop burdening everyone you know."

Her desperation was so sweet and thick to Doubt, the taste of it all lingered in the air. Sweet rivulets of flavor poured down her cheeks until they pooled together and dripped from her chin. Doubt curled tighter around her body, arms circling her as it pulled itself closer. Its hot breath grew more tangible with each passing second. Everything about her turmoil allured it, and it wanted her in turn. It needed her. It needed to devour her so it could live.

And now, she was ripe for the picking.

Silvana watched her reflection, searching for a reason to disregard Doubt's argument, but the tears streaming down her face blurred all reason. She only just realized she was crying. She was so used to holding it back, but she cried just the same, silent and relentless.

"Useless!" Doubt screamed in her mind, echoing like a thunderclap. It was all in her head; she knew that it was. That didn’t make Doubt's words less real, didn't assuage the dark urge they goaded. Another urge, her desire to cry out for help bubbled deep from within her chest and up her throat, but nothing came out. I am just a burden...Well... there is a solution for that.. For now... and forever.

"Silvana! I'm home!"

Jumping out of her skin, she slammed the knife down on the cutting board. Silvana rushed over to the ice box, pressing cold cubes to her face so he wouldn't know she had been crying. She thought of myriad excuses to respond to his probing concerns; she'd been cooking with strong onions, she stubbed her toe...

Doubt panicked, scrambling and flailing about, searching for a hiding place. Bumping into everything, its non-corporeal body disturbed nothing. Whenever it did hit something, a chunk of itself sloughed off, vanishing before hitting the ground. By the time it finally found somewhere to hide, a third of its form evaporated. It cursed its missed opportunity.

"I'm still working on dinner!" She called back, pretending to search through the ice box.

"I brought you something you'll love," Markous Shadewillow walked in the kitchen, holding a steaming mug of tea and a scone with a bite taken out of it. "Whatever you're cooking smells amazing, by the way."

"Thanks, but you always say that." Silvana said, face still buried in the ice box.

"Doesn't make it any less true. I also got something for after dinner for the two of us." Silvana heard him settle in at the dining table to relax. Taking a slow, small breath, she grabbed something random from the ice box.

"Thanks a bunch for the surprise this morning, honey," she said, trying to sound normal. "I loved it!" He had coffee ready for her every morning, and she always savored it. It was always something to look forward to, something that made the sun shine a bit brighter every morning. His grin was just as bright, spreading from ear to pointed ear. She pulled herself to her feet, and for a moment just watched the lanky goofball she cherished so, swelling with pride. His light drove back the gray fog clouding her vision, color returned as she got back to preparing dinner.

Doubt wailed in the corner of the room, the agony of its body melting away from it. All her self-doubt and fears were shrinking! Doubt still felt their echoes, the black tendrils still lingered in the background. Its only comfort was, inevitably, it would have another chance to claim Silvana.

All it had to do was wait.

Dinner was per the norm for Silvana and Markous, chatting about their day. When Markous asked about how work was, she did her best to deflect his questions. Their conversation grew quiet after that.

"Silvana, is everything alright?" he asked, setting his fork down.

She hesitated. "Yes, everything is fine. Why?"

"Dinner is great—don't get me wrong—but it is extremely salty. Again."

"I mean, I screw up once in a while. Sorry."

"Silv, you love cooking, and always have a pep in your step when in the kitchen. Experimenting is one thing, but this feels like you’re distracted. What's bothering you, Starlight?" Markous’s steady gaze absorbed her, his eyes locked onto hers. He leaned forward, put his elbows on the table.

It hurt to see him worry. Silvana folded her hands on the table; she noticed a stain on the dark wood, and wondered how Markous's cleaning spell missed it. By the dark gods in hell, this is hard. She didn't know how to go forward. Their marriage didn't last this long by not understanding each other, but that didn't mean that it was easy to be understood.

Silvana sighed, wiped her eyes, and told him what happened that day. She told him everything, every dark thought and worry that clouded her. She was clear and calm, ensuring he understood her perspective the best he could. When she finished, they both sat in agonizing silence. She languished beneath the worry she had somehow broken something that couldn't be fixed.

"Why would you look into that place for lunch?" he asked, his voice steady. It didn't sound accusing, but she couldn't tell.

"I—I thought it would be a good date spot for us."

"Well, that's very thoughtful. But that place is awful. I never brought you there because I knew they would discriminate against you. I just can't stand for that."

"I was just trying to..." Her lower lip quivered, she looked down at her untouched plate.

Markous jumped at that, seeing her attitude change and realizing the full weight of her distress. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to think about everything she told him. He quickly realized the common thread.

Him.

"Starli—” He stopped himself, cleared his throat. “Silvana, I am so very sorry. Even if these sour interactions had no malice behind them, even if all this is in your head, it's clear my peers and staff don't respect you. I... cast a very large shadow over you. And the fact that it's so big you are at the point of… considering enacting the worst—" Markous wept, the tears smearing and fogging his glasses. Taking them off, he looked away from her. "I—I think we both have a lot to work on in this situation."

"No, no, please!" She gasped, her words staggered between uncontrollable breaths. Her face tightened as she grasped his hand. "I know that it's all me! I know I get wrapped up in my head too much."

Markous, shocked at what he heard, shook his head at her words, heartbroken. “Yet it still led you to this point, my love. We are supposed to be there for one another, through thick and thin, but we still struggle thinking about what is best for each other.”

What else could they do? Her brain raced for answers, trying to come up with an actual solution out of thin air. Her panic rose, and she feared she was out of options. But something sprouted out of the stress and blossomed in front of her. Like the final grains of sand tumbling through an hourglass her mind was suddenly clear and she latched onto a singular idea.

She needed to convince him.

Silvana and Markous sat quietly until they calmed, she watched him breathe, fiddle with the loose button on his coat. He preferred to keep things close to his chest, as private as possible. Should he be willing to do this for her, it would put him under a lot of scrutiny as one of the best wizards of his time

“I want to get help. Professional help.”

"Professional? What kind of professional? We have tried every spell or potion to help your anxiety."

"I am talking about therapy. Therapy for me, and couples counseling for us. I don't think there's a magic cure to this... it's time we seek outside help."

There was no hesitation.

"I—yes. I agree. That would be great," he took her hand tightly into his. "Do you have anyone in mind?"

This felt right. She couldn’t explain how, but it would be the right direction. It felt like real love and healing. She felt cared for in a way she'd been missing for a long time. In the shadows, Doubt stirred. It was tired. It needed rest. It would try again soon.

About the Author:

Having been involved in fantasy and reading since a young age, Alli has always loved storytelling. At 29 years old, she travels the country as a Histologist for her day job. Her free time is usually spent planning D&D sessions or doing something creative.