The Death of Magic

It came like a wave across the land, a noxious ripple of dread that flowed without mercy over everything.

The Unicorns reared and shook their heads, the sparkle of moonlight died in their eyes; their majestic horns shrivelled up and fell from their heads, leaving nothing but a smudge on their fur; their manes and tails became limp and dusty, as if invisible hands had brushed the stars from them. When finally they stood, they were Horses, plain White Horses; they nuzzled each other for comfort, feeling the pain of their loss, then they whinnied loud and set out at a gallop across the dying world, a flurry of white drifting down the hillside, like a sudden blizzard, their hearts suddenly filled for the first time with fear and uncertainty for what tomorrow may bring.

Deep in the valley the Wood Sprites and the Fairies flocked together, trembling in their masses; when all were gathered they embraced each other in a fond farewell, then they began to sing such a melancholy song, dancing and swaying in a hypnotic rhythm; the song carried out across the wood, birds in the trees stopped to listen, their heads on one side, their eyes shining with sorrow and the animals crept from their dens and burrows to watch. The air in the wood was thick with sadness, a fox gave a low mewl, it's ears flattening against it's slender head, a magnificent stag threw back it's head and let out a long roar that rose and mingled with the notes of the song.

When the song had ended, the Fairies and the Wood Sprites all joined hands,then as one they rose into the sky like startled birds. They raised their hands up to the blue sky and with a pop they disappeared like the popping of a bubble; a few lonely leaves and petals drifting back to earth, the animals turn...

... middle of paper ...

... breaking, fingering the ends of their once magic hair.

A monstrous roar shook the eerie stillness of the valley, a jet of crimson flame burnt the tops of the tall trees to ashes, then a mighty crash sounded as the last Dragon fell. It lay on its side, breathing heavily, a Knight's sword stuck out from the great beast's chest, a sure sign that it had found its mark. The Dragon's bright eye flickered and dimmed, there was a final puff of smoke as the Dragon breathed its last.

The Wizard turned away from the sight and wiped the tears from his eyes with his long beard. He stood looking around at his tower room, feeling like he was observing his trinkets and treasures for the first time.

He sighed and raised his magic wand, hoping this was not the end; though try as he might, the wand was now nothing but an ordinary stick.

He was a Wizard no more.

Now he was just a man.