Epilogue
by the Unknown Narrator
Looking into the past is like looking down into a deep, deep well. Imagine that deep, deep well, where the water at the bottom of it represents the time that a person first walked on the earth. People have been on this earth for so long that if you threw a stone down that well it would be at least five minutes before you heard the splash of the stone hitting the water.
Even down at the bottom of the well, people were telling stories, whispered in the night from adult to child and handed down like jewels from generation to generation, though the well is so deep and so dark, and they are so far away, that the stories can get lost to us.
But just recently, people have begun to write down their experiences, so that their voices are trapped in the paper of the trees they are writing on. We call these things “books,” and they will be a clever way of shedding a little light in the darkness…
This is one of those stories.
Notice how the crucible of the story changes those who listen to it, those who are within it, and the person who is telling it, all at the same time.
This thought it was a story with two heroes. It said that, confidently, right from the beginning, and on a number of occasions.
But lo! Stories, like queens and Wizards, are tricksy, tricksy things. The story changed Bodkin and Bodkin changed the story.
He wouldn’t stay where he was supposed to, and somehow it ended up being a story with three heroes, which was as much a surprise to me as to anyone else.
The final reckoning with the Kingwitch is very, very close now. I know it, and the Kingwitch knows it, and he is ready for the final battle, clutching his piece of blue dust within his iron prison. He has Squeezjoos, and Wish and Xar will never abandon Squeezjoos, and they need to get to him fast.
“They will come to me,” whispers the Kingwitch to himself, sharpening his talons like a blacksmith sharpening a sword. “Because love is weakness…”
So the end approaches quick now.
And with the end, I shall tell you who I am, at last.
However I warn you, this is a true story, and true stories, unlike fairy stories, do not always end happily. As Perdita said, there’s a reason why tears are such an important ingredient in so many spells. Hopefully all will end well, but if not, please do not blame me, for as we have just seen, I am not as in control of where a true story goes as I would like to be. I have to tell what really happened.
But I am wishing with all my heart that all will end well.
Wish with me…
WISH that Wish and Xar and Bodkin can break out of the sad circles of the history of the wildwoods.
They are young, and they are hopeful.
WISH that they can write their own story…
WISH…
And in the meantime…
Keep hoping…
Keep guessing…
Keep dreaming…
And keep telling your own stories.
Stories are very helpful if you get lost in the wildwoods.
Signed:
