The Sorceress and the Flower Girl

You see, there was once this woman who crossed the ocean, a long time ago.

She came from the same land as you did, but she'd never been happy there, so she built a ship and recruited a crew of men to venture across the ocean and find the Far Shore.

She wasn't exactly easy to get along with, and she never seemed to find an equal amongst the men of her homeland; she was smart, sharp as a tack, and she didn't suffer fools at all.

But she had been considered quite beautiful in that time: she had long blonde hair and a face that could've come from a modernist painting, with a thin and pretty set of lips, which are always locked in a disappointed sneer.

So she bought her ship, and her crew of men, and she cast off her ropes, hoping to find something new, at least, beyond the great ocean.

But think about this woman, the captain of her ship, the only woman amoung a crew of rowdy sailors, that tells you everything you need to know about her. She didn't take shit, didn't negotiate with idiots, and she was quick to anger, and not to be trifled with.

She had fire in her eyes, and that's not exactly a poetic exaggeration; if you had been stupid enough to get close to her and then to look her in the eyes you would've seen pupils as dark as the spaces between stars on a clear night, and irises which burned with prismatic fury, the colour impossible to name, not blue, or brown, or green, but a flame of colours, like an artist's pallet caught alight.

She didn't plan on using any particular method of navigation to cross the ocean, she just did what made sense to her and she knew she'd find her way, eventually, because that was what she was like: she didn't need any compass but her gut; she wasn't weak willed like the rest of those fools, the ones she sneered at.

But, after a while, her men started to lose faith in her because she didn't use any sensible method of navigation, not one that they could fathom anyway.

She heard the word "mutiny" being muttered when they thought she wasn't listening, and so she waited until her men were asleep and she cut their throats one by one.

And the ones who woke up? She cut them down where they stood.

And the ones who hid? She stood on the deck and screamed, "You'd be better off taking your chances in the sea than you would be trying to get the better of me!"

And then she became her own crew, rigging her own sails, steering her own ship, day after day, gritting her teeth and fighting sleep and exhaustion, and muttering to herself, "Who needs sailors anyway?"

And, before too long, she crashed her ship into the beaches of the Far Shore.

It wasn't much longer after that that she came across the Tower, but, back in those days, while the Tower was still grand, it was a lot smaller. A mere pen knife as compared to a blade.

And when she saw the Tower she knew that it wasn't just powerful, this spire of black glass, about the hight of a large cathedral, it was power itself, power incarnate, a crystalline mass of raw force.

Well, she wanted the Tower for herself, but even the slightest touch of the thing would slice her flesh open like a surgeon's scalpel. She took her sword and tried to crack the black glass, but it was her sword that shattered like it was made of fine ice.

There was no way into the Tower, and there were words written on the Tower in a language she couldn't read, slipping around on the surface of the black crystal, and eventually, in her frustration, she cried "You are mine! You belong to me! And I'll crack you open eventually, even if it takes until Judgment Day!"

And then she watched the words on the Tower shift and change, as if the black monolith had heard her threat and was formulating a reply.

And then she heard a snap, distinctly she heard something like the sound of glass breaking, and, at her feet, a little needle of black glass, about four inches long, feel from high above, from near to the top of the Tower.

At first she interpreted it as a mockery, that the Tower was saying "Here's a little bit of glass for you then, and that's all you're getting! Ha!"

But as she looked closely at the needle of glass she understood; that little needle wasn't so little, not really, in fact it was still alive with all of the Tower's power, it wasn't a mockery, it was a compromise; she could have the fury of the Tower, she could borrow it, and the Tower got to remain intact. It was the Tower saying, "Woah, chill out! Here, take this and let's be friends instead!"

So she took the black shard and carefully put her hair up in a bun, and thrust the glass through it.

Yes, she could feel the power now...

She took a final look at the Tower, sneering at it, like she always did, before taking off over the hill to find the next thing.

She came upon a forest, first of all, and then a plain covered in flowers of every kind and shade, and then, at long last, a city, grand and beautiful, with tall spires and endless, maze-like gardens, and markets so pungent with herbs and spices that you'd lose yourself in bliss.

And she stood outside the gate, now no longer a captain, now a Sourceress, and she said to men guarding the gate, "This city is mine now! Lay down your arms, or don't, I don't care, you couldn't even put a scratch on me, and if you try then I'll rain fire from the skies and turn your city to rubble!"

The men weren't sure how to respond, for she was just one woman, but something about her suggested that she didn't exaggerate.

As they debated what to do, the Sourceress grew impatient, and she cast a spell on the earth behind her, and in moments an army of clay men rose from the soil, an army a million strong, and in thier hands grew spears and swords and bows, and great war machines grew from the dust of the earth, and war elephants took shape from the roots of the grass, and her army let out a mighty roar so loud that it shook the foundations of the city.

And it wasn't long before the ruler of the city was at the gate, accompanied by a beautiful young girl, all dressed in white, with shining locks of blonde hair, her dress all adorned with flowers of every type and shade.

"I offer you my daughter!" The king cried to the Sourceress, "Take her, but please, let the city of my people stay standing!"

The Sourceress sneered, "What would I want with a little girl?!" She called back, her army restless behind her, "I'll take your city and start my empire, thanks, and if I have to take your head then I'll do that to!"

And it wasn't long before the King's people were offering up his head in exchange for thier lives, and it wasn't long after that that the Sourceress was crowned Queen.

And so her empire began, and city after city fell at her feet, and those that didn't? She kept her word and she rained down fire on them, and trampled them with her army until there wasn't even rubble left, only dust.

The Sourceress made the kings daughter into her chambermaid, the girl with flowers on her dress, and it amused the Sourceress greatly to have a princess fetch her wine and wash her feet.

But, this girl, this Flower Girl, had a strange affinity for nature; she had the power to sing to the plants and the weeds and to make them grow, and, indeed, even if she walked though the garden while humming a tune, then flowers would blossom around her.

Even the Sourceress could not help but be moved - just a little - by such a subtle and beautiful power, but she put it out of her mind as she sat on her black throne of sharp glass as monarchs from all around brought her gifts more exquisite than you could ever imagine.

But, one day, the Sourceress was watching from her high balcony, overlooking her gardens below, as the Flower Girl hummed and the flowers around her began to bloom ever more, ever more splendidly, ever more completely, and ever more divinely.

The Sourceress had seen this many times before, but on that day she was overtaken by a strange mood, and so she summoned the Flower Girl to her chambers.

She instructed the Flower Girl to draw a bath, and the girl imagined that it was the Sourceress who wished to bathe, but, as soon as the bath was drawn, the Sourceress instructed the Flower Girl to remove her dress and wash herself before the Sourceress.

The Flower Girl did so, fearing the wrath of the Sourceress, as any sane person would, and she stripped naked and began to wash herself in the bath.

The Sourceress instructed her to sing as she washed herself, and the Flower Girl did, afraid of the power of the Sourceress.

And her singing, oh her singing!

The flowers on her dress, which now lay on the floor, sprang to life, and they began to dance and move and to take on colours and forms ever more fantastic!

And, as for the Sourceress, well her strange mood increased, and she was overcome with notions which she had never before known.

And so she instructed the Flower Girl to dry herself by the fire, and then to lay down on the Sourceress's imperial bed, still undressed.

And the Sourceress lay down with her, and felt her fine skin and touched her soft lips

and she realised that she loved the Flower Girl, in the way that she was supposed to have loved the foolish men of her homeland.

And so, every night, the Sourceress would instruct the Flower Girl to bathe, and to sing, and to dry herself, and to lay down in bed with the Sourceress, so that she could express her love for the Flower Girl.

And all was well, until one day, when the Flower Girl spoke her heart to the Sourceress.

"My once-royal father still languished in your dungeon, my Queen, and it would make me so happy to be able to see him again. Perhaps your majesty could see her way too letting him live as a common man, at least, and to let him try to make a life in your fair capitol."

And then she planted a kiss on the Sourceress's lips.

And the Sourceress was under her spell at once, and she ordered the immediate release of the once-king, and for him to be given clothing befitting a commoner, and for him to be given forty shavings of gold, in order that he could have a place to live and seek employment.

And all was well, for a while.

But this decision gnawed at the heart of the Sourceress; had she really been moved to mercy by the kiss of a helpless little girl?

As she sat upon her throne she felt anger rising within her; had it really been so easy to crack her heart? She was the empress of a great empire, and commander of an army which none would dare to oppose, and she alone commanded the power of the Tower, which was power itself.

And she had allowed the gentle kiss of a Flower Girl to move her to mercy?!

She would not have it!

And so, that night, when she summoned the Flower Girl to her chambers, she did not instruct her to bathe, but instead to kneel.

"You have your once-royal father's freedom." She sneered, "And now you pay the price for it.

"I curse you, Flower Girl, I curse you that flowers will still bloom when you sing, but when you run out of breath, or grow weary of singing, then those same flowers you once caused to blossom will quickly die and wither and rot!

"And so you will either sing forever, little girl, or watch all the flowers around you die!

"Now! Begone from my kingdom, that you will never again trick me!"

And so the Flower Girl ran from the Sourceress's chambers, with tears streaming from her eyes, she she ran down towards the great gate of the Sourceress's capitol, and out into the fields of flowers beyond.

And, sure enough, each time she sang, the flowers still bloomed around her, but when she could sing no longer, those same flowers which she had once brought to bloom quickly died and turned to rot, and no more did she wear flowers on her dress, but her dress was sodden with rot and pestilence.

And she walked away from the flower-covered plains and into the woods, where there were no flowers to remind her of what she had lost, and her tears turned to anger for the Sourceress whom she had loved, and her anger turned to bitterness, and reprisal, and self-pity.

And, once she crossed the woods, she saw, there, the Tower, just as the Sourceress had once done.

It frightened her, for it reminded her of her love, but there was no other way to go but towards the Tower, which was about the size of her father's palace, but covered in black spikes.

But, as she approached, she saw a man, well, a boy, really.

He started up at the Tower, looking quite pleased with it.

You know how a young boy might lie in bed and look at his dick and think "Wow, that's really mine, that big thing!". Like, he's seen his member a thousand times before, but sometimes he just stares at it in awe.

That's how the Sourcerer always looks upon his Tower, and when he turns to you his eyes seem to say, "Bet you wish you had one of those, eh?"

The Flower Girl approach the boy who looked up at his Tower, and he looked at her

and he thought that maybe she was even more wonderful than his Tower, even though her dress was sodden with filth and death.

He smiled, quite bemused by his own sudden feelings of love and desire; this was not the first woman he had seen, but he knew that she was not like the others, she was special, he sensed her aura, and he felt her pain, and he offered her any service she could ever want and he put the power of the Tower at her disposal.

But even the clever Sourcerer could not undo her curse, for the curse had been placed on her by the Tower, and the Tower could never be used against itself, for it alone was a monolith.

The Sourcerer got on his knees before the beautiful girl and he changed the curse which the Tower has inflicted upon her.

Yes, flowers would still spring up when she sang, and, yes, they would quickly die and rot when her singing ceased, but from death, new life!

From the rot of the flowers would come grubs and insects, which would transform!

Oh, they'd become butterflies, and dragonflies, and pearlescnt beetles, and all kinds of strange and wonderful things!

Oh, and they would fill the world with colour!

And each flap of thier wings would be a hymn to the Goddess of Flowers!

And the Goddess was, at first, confused, but then she smiled at the boy-sourcerer, and kissed him on the forehead, and took his hand, and she sang until a garden grew up around his Tower.

They say that the Sourceress still rules her empire, without mercy and without forgiveness, and that, still, none have dared to oppose her.

She still bares the Tower's might, lest she return and shatter it, but she knows not the true power, one which the Tower keeps to itself.

Wisdom.