The King's Mage

In tonight’s story, you are the mage and most trusted advisor to the king regent. On the day of an auspicious festival, a subject of the kingdom seeks audience with you, hoping to learn some of your magic to heal her village. You hear the lady’s plea, learning more from her than you might have expected, and imparting some magical wisdom of your own. As if in repayment for your kindness, you are then granted a vision of the kingdom’s future. If you’re still awake as the story comes to an end, I’ll guide you through meditation for opening the third eye.

This story is connected to the Dragon Rider and Tavern tales from previous seasons of Sleep & Sorcery. You don’t need to have heard those stories in full to understand this one, but you may recognize some of the characters and story threads. I hope you enjoy.

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw and No Time for Heroes by Christian Andersen, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Plum the elements of magic in tonight's high fantasy bedtime story.

Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel,

And I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

Listen to my voice for as long as it serves you,

And whenever you're ready,

Feel free to let go and let yourself relax into sleep.

If you're still awake as the story comes to an end,

I'll guide you through a meditation for opening the third eye.

In tonight's story,

You are the mage and most trusted advisor to the King Regent.

On the day of an auspicious festival,

A subject of the kingdom seeks audience with you,

Hoping to learn some of your magic to heal her village.

You hear the lady's plea,

Learning more from her than you might have expected,

And imparting some magical wisdom of your own.

As if in repayment for your kindness,

You are granted a vision of the kingdom's future.

This story is connected to the dragonrider and tavern tales from previous seasons of Sleep and Sorcery.

You don't need to have heard those stories in full to understand this one,

But you may recognize some of the characters and story threads.

I hope you enjoy.

Earth,

Sky,

Stars circling my heart.

Joy Harjo.

The fluid in the basin is cloudy,

As if obscured by a heavy mist or rain.

It gets like this when something is obstructing your magic,

Your mastery of second sight.

And that's been happening more and more.

You gaze a moment longer,

Even dipping your hand into the cool liquid to trouble its surface,

Hoping the images thereupon might rearrange themselves into coherent visions.

But the waters only ripple and return to stillness,

Yielding nothing more than a murky swirl of color and light on which is cast your own reflection.

You suppose it shouldn't surprise you that the sight is clouded.

All the commotion of today was bound to influence your ability to divine the future by magical means.

You only wish you had something more to share with the King Regent,

Who relies upon you as his most trusted advisor and court mage.

This day began with excitement,

Hope,

And promise as preparations were made for the monarch's highly anticipated festival,

And quickly descended into tumult.

What should have culminated in the surprise coronation of the Regent's son and the cementing of the family as the legitimate ruling dynasty of the kingdom was cut short when it was discovered that the heir was not in his chambers,

Nor anywhere in the castle.

In an effort to maintain the atmosphere of mirth and keep up appearances,

Great pains have been taken to keep the news from spreading amongst the public,

Who continue to revel in the streets as the castle's inhabitants contemplate the next move.

You've withdrawn to the West Tower,

Where you have your quarters and private library to consult your gazing waters,

This basin of fluid that often yields vision and insight.

But cloudy as they are,

And streaked as the sky is when you look to the dusk for the appearance of stars,

You fear you won't have any answers for the King Regent by morning.

You stand by the window now,

Watching twilight settle over the city below the castle,

And the glimmer of last light over the water.

The revelry goes on in the great square,

Making a low,

Muffled curtain of noise,

Occasionally pierced through by a single voice or instrument.

They seem so far away from you,

The people.

As you watch the sun's final gasp of light disappear over the water,

You feel a slight tingle at the back of your neck,

A prickling awareness of something,

Like the faint fingers of magic and sight hovering inches from your skin.

If only you could grasp it,

Use it,

It's just out of reach.

You've noticed this feeling more and more with each passing year.

The sensation that magic is slowly slipping through your fingers,

Like a dream so swiftly forgotten upon waking.

You aren't sure if it's just you,

Growing older,

More disenchanted,

And thus losing your connection to the mysterious source of magic,

Or if,

As you suspect,

This is a sign that magic is finally leaving the realm for good.

When the last of the true elves departed the realm for their enchanted pastures,

They warned that this would happen,

And the signs were there long before.

The dragons all but died out,

And everyday people who once worked lesser spells could no longer produce their charms.

You are one of the few powerful people still connected to the source and able to wield magic at all,

But even that feels more and more inaccessible.

Nonetheless,

There come flashes every now and then,

Like sparks in the darkest night,

When your fingertips crackle as if with the force of thunderbolts,

Glimpses of the purest magic,

Strong as you can remember it.

In those moments,

Your second sight becomes limitless,

Capacious,

Allowing you for a brief glimmer to see beyond the folds of time.

Magic never lasts long enough to gather more than the vaguest impressions,

But it's as if the source of magic is reaching out,

Trying to rebuild its connection to the world.

If only you could understand how to strengthen that connection.

A soft knock at the door breaks your reverie.

You call absentmindedly for the visitor to enter.

It's one of the castle's many attendants.

He nods to you in acknowledgment,

Then says his grace is receiving petitioners in the throne room this evening.

One of the subjects,

A woman,

Has submitted a plea for audience with you.

This surprises you.

It's not often that the king regent opens the castle to petitioners and their pleas,

But on the rare occasion,

You've never availed yourself to the supplicants.

You've never had to.

Peasants who kneel before the monarch ask for protection,

Enforcement,

Assistance with failing harvest.

Never do they seek the wisdom of the mage or a glimpse of your gazing waters.

Your first instinct is to refuse the petitioner's request to see you.

What can you even offer when your waters are murky and your gaze so deeply clouded?

But something tugs at you deep within,

A prick in your fingers,

A stirring of the mind,

A curiosity.

So you hesitate before at last yielding.

I'll see her,

You say,

Adding that she should be brought to the tower.

The attendant nods,

Then exits.

A short time later,

He returns,

Followed by another.

She appears,

From her adornment,

To be a noble woman,

Clad in luxurious threads,

Not what you'd expected from a common petitioner.

She is young,

But a disarming wisdom sparkles in her eyes.

Around her neck hangs a jeweled amulet.

You haven't seen its like before,

But something about the gem seems familiar somehow,

As if you know it from a dream.

A lady marana,

The attendant introduces her,

Of silver fare.

This puzzles you further.

Silver fare,

To your knowledge,

Is a small,

Poor village in the low country.

What noble lords or ladies hail from such a place?

You signal to the attendant that he may go,

And he leaves you alone with the lady.

You offer her a seat by the fire,

Which she takes graciously.

Thank you for seeing me,

She says.

I've come a long way for audience with you.

Yes,

You respond.

I confess I've never travelled as far as silver fare myself.

What brings you to the capital?

She draws in a deep breath,

And seems about to heave a heavy sigh,

But this she stifles.

It's clear that whatever plagues her thoughts is a matter of personal significance.

You can't explain it,

But right away you feel a sense of kinship with the lady.

I love my village,

She begins.

None of us have much,

But what we have,

We share,

Food,

Resources,

And wisdom.

For generations,

The women in my family have served the people of silver fare,

As healers and wise women.

We know and care for the plants that cure disease,

Ease heartbreak,

And soothe pain.

I am the last of them,

And have no daughter of my own to train in the old wisdom.

But a local girl came to me,

Hoping to apprentice.

That was when the blight began.

Now you take the other chair by the fire,

Leaning forward slightly to take in the lady marana's tail.

The local farmers came to us,

Hoping to understand why their crops had failed,

She continues.

But even my garden,

Once so lush and abundant with healing and magical herbs,

Began to wither.

I have long been gifted with some stirrings of the second sight,

And can look to the plants in my garden for insights into the present,

And even clues to the future.

But with all my beloved flowers and herbs wilted and dying,

I lost my teachers,

My connection.

In the silence that follows,

You scan the lady's face.

The complex sadness in her eyes mirrors the melancholy of your own mind.

Your constant questioning.

Your diminishing connection to the source.

So,

I came to you,

The lady goes on,

As the most renowned of mages and seers in the realm,

To see if you had learned anything that could help me restore my garden and help my village.

I know such concerns must seem very small to the likes of you,

Who advise kings,

But I didn't know where else to turn.

And yet,

She says,

A gleam awakening in her eyes now.

On my travels,

I've seen and heard such things that I never dreamt were possible.

I walked in other worlds and touched great mysteries.

And so,

I cannot help but hope that something is rousing in the realm,

Even as my garden grays.

The gemstone around her neck glows amber in the firelight.

Curiosity flares.

You sense the lady guards many secrets,

And the gem may be the key.

I wonder if you could tell me,

You say,

About these wonders,

These mysteries you've seen on your travels.

Then,

Deciding that you should offer something of yourself,

A gift of vulnerability,

In exchange for what she's already shared,

You add,

I too have been troubled by the changes that have come over my magic.

I do not see as clearly as I once did.

But like you,

I dare to hope.

The lady smiles gratefully,

Then weaves a most curious tale.

She tells of a hazel grove,

Deep in the forest,

Where she stopped to rest.

In that place,

She was met by a mysterious presence,

Fairy or elf,

She couldn't say,

Who brought her across a shimmering veil into his twilight kingdom.

That other world,

She says,

Bloomed abundant with magical things.

Herbs grew there that she'd never known.

The trees were heavy with the sweetest fruit,

And all were eternally young.

Then she spent what seemed like years there,

Hovering in the sweetness of its dreamlike fog,

Nearly forgetting her home and her people.

But when she returned at last to the familiar world,

She found no time had passed,

As if it really was a splendid dream.

But I had this,

She gestures to the gemstone,

A parting gift from those fair ones,

To assure myself I hadn't dreamt it all.

So,

You think,

She carries an artifact from another world,

Rich in magic.

A swell of intrigue rises in you,

And a feeling like envy.

What is it about this woman,

From a poor country village,

That has earned her entry into enchanted lands,

Has rewarded her with items of powerful magic?

Why would you,

Advisor to kings,

The most famed magician in the land,

Be passed over for such gifts?

You stand and go again to the pedestal,

Where the basin of water rests,

Hoping vainly that you'll see something on the surface.

But just as before,

The waters are clouded,

As if a thick fog suspends your visions.

Outside the window,

The sun has set,

And the moody pall of blue comes to rest over the capital.

You sigh,

Realizing that the harder you try to pull patterns from the depth of the basin,

The more it resists,

The more it muddies.

You feel more disconnected than ever from your own power,

Certain that even if you attempted lesser magic,

Putting out the flame in the fireplace,

Or a simple glamour,

You'd be hopelessly incapable.

You bring yourself to look again upon Lady Marana,

Whose brows are knitted with concern.

You can hardly stand to have her pity you.

Didn't she,

After all,

Come seeking your advice,

As the highest mage in the realm?

You feel yourself inch closer to the brink of petty jealousy,

An emotion you try never to stoop to.

You have half a mind to send the woman away,

And half a mind to demand that she turn over the amulet to you for further study.

Your eyes flick from her face to the gemstone,

And then back again to those wise,

Inquiring eyes.

And jealousy,

Which growls like a beast within your breast,

Begins to settle,

Purring,

Then slowly dissolving.

This woman,

Mysterious origins and adventures aside,

Is here for one reason.

To help the people she loves.

She is a healer and a steward.

Her devotion to the people of Silverfair was strong enough to wrest her from the haze of that fair,

Enchanted country.

How many could say the same in her circumstances?

You consider your own role in the kingdom.

Valued most for your magical ability,

You've advised the King-Regent since he assumed the throne.

And before that,

You apprenticed under the sorcerer who advised the old king.

Always,

You've been a political figure first.

You and your magic beholden to the commands of the one in charge.

But is it not the highest goal of leadership?

To serve the people of the realm.

How long has it been since you lent your ear to one of the common folk?

Or walked among them?

How long,

Indeed,

Since you descended from your tower,

This sparkling citadel which houses all the instruments of your magic,

Yet is so achingly distant from the people you purport to serve?

There are moments,

You think,

When life seems all a cacophony of random events and chance encounters,

Of short-sighted stumbles and shots taken in the dark.

And then,

There are moments,

Rare but exhilarating,

When the threads of fate seem to weave themselves into stunning tapestry.

When people enter your life at precisely the moment you need to meet them.

And they you.

This,

You're certain,

Is one of those moments.

Somehow,

You understand that this woman,

Who journeyed from half a world away to speak with you,

May hold the key to all your questions.

In spite of everything,

You admire her.

And more than that,

You need her.

You need each other.

Perhaps by embracing her worldview of service,

You might regain some of your lost connection to the Source,

Might find some insight about the lost heir.

But first,

You must take the first step and leave your isolated,

Elevated sanctuary.

Would you care to see the Royal Gardens,

You say.

A smile crosses the lady's face and she nods.

Down you go.

Down the spiral steps from your tower.

Each stare bringing you down closer to the earth.

To the lives that seem small when viewed from high above.

The voices that blend together when heard from afar.

But there is nothing small about a life.

Any life.

This floods back to you as you travel downward.

The lady walks behind you as you lead the way through tapestried corridors and at last through gilded brass doors into the moonlit night.

The Royal Gardens flank the castle on multiple sides with sprawling lawns and manicured terraces.

But you lead the lady past tree-lined alleys and rose-dotted walkways.

You have a special destination in mind.

There's a corner of the garden behind wrought iron gates and evergreen hedges to which you lead her.

It's where the plants grow wilder,

Overlapping and organic,

Without the precision or neatness of the rest of the gardens.

Here,

Herbs and flowers grow that might be used in potions or charms.

Here,

As nowhere else in the limits of the castle,

You might find weeds thriving.

For even weeds can be magic or medicine,

Without anyone to pull them out by the roots.

You must admit that you haven't set foot in the herb garden in a long time.

Not since the days of your apprenticeship have you relied heavily on plant magic,

Always seeking divinatory wisdom from the waters or the stars.

But as you pass through its gates,

Entering this unique and solitary sanctuary,

The melange of aromas awaken distant memories.

Ivy creeps up the stone benches that flank the fountain at the center of the garden.

Water trickles softly,

Musically,

Through the sculptural decor.

The moss-covered fountain is a relic of the old king's reign,

Forgotten here.

A sculpted dragon,

A symbol of his royal house,

Spills water instead of fire from its mouth.

The lady emits a short gasp on entering the garden.

Her eyes light up as she takes in the abundance of herbs,

Some common,

Others incredibly rare.

She kneels and observes the complex undergrowth,

Running her hands through the foliage.

This is extraordinary,

She says.

I could only dream of such growth.

You're struck by the irony of her words.

This secret garden,

Tucked away and hidden from the people of the realm,

Carries all the natural magic she seeks.

Meanwhile,

A subject of the kingdom has walked in magical worlds you would give anything to see.

Again,

A thought rings in your head that you need each other,

That only by sharing wisdom,

Hers earthly and nature-based,

Yours ethereal and Empyrean,

Can you make any progress toward healing the land,

The people,

And ultimately,

The source of magic.

I'm afraid,

You say,

The ache of honesty outweighed by optimism,

That I cannot give you answers that might heal the blight affecting your village.

As I've said,

My own sight is no longer clear,

But I believe you came here for a reason.

She inclines her head,

Questioning.

The only route for you to take is humility,

But even before you go on,

You can feel the impact of the words you're about to say.

Just the intention of saying them seems to ignite a spark of hope,

Of possibility.

Or,

Do you dare even think it?

Magic.

Teach me,

You say,

Your ways of herbal magic,

Your plant lore.

I've been so long away from the roots and flowers that I scarcely recall their names.

Show me your ways,

And I will teach you everything I know of magic.

Everything in my library is yours to read,

My mind yours to learn from.

Perhaps together we can help your people,

And all the people of the kingdom.

A soft shimmer of moonlight breaks over the hedges.

The half-moon gazes into the herb garden and reflects on the waters of the fountain.

The night sings with insects and birds,

The distant sounds of ongoing revelry beyond the castle walls.

Morana gets to her feet.

Her gemstone reflects the deep greenery of the surroundings.

In the simmering silence between you,

A hushed breeze comes through the hedges,

Making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

This is one of those moments,

You think,

When possibility itself feels like magic,

When the threads of fate intertwine,

Golden across time.

You wonder if she feels it too,

That this is the root,

The foundation,

The birth of a great partnership,

The beginning of a long journey to reawaken magic in the realm,

Not through pursuit of great power,

But through acts of kindness,

Mercy,

Humility,

And service.

Years from now,

You'll look back to this as the moment earth and water met and wove their gifts together for the betterment of all.

The lady smiles.

It is unspoken,

Yet agreed,

As if a bond has forged between your minds in the short time you've known each other.

Destiny's hands seem to turn the dial and seal the compact.

Your fingertips tremble as if with renewed magic.

Murana's face suggests that the same is true for her.

Then her eyes flick toward the fountain and your gaze follows.

A thin mist hovers over the pool of water.

You go to its edge and the mist ripples and clears.

There,

In the waters of the forgotten fountain,

So far below the basin into which you've gazed for answers,

There form shapes and visions from the deep.

At first they are formless and vague,

Soon solidifying into flashes of familiar images.

You can see a boat on the water at sunset,

Steered by a solitary rower,

A cave in the mountains,

A cottage overgrown with ivy and moonflowers,

A lion prowling through the forest,

A tavern with a fire gleaming in the window,

A dragon on wing.

The rush of vision is too much to comprehend all at once,

But in your heart hope rises high,

For in that water you've seen wondrous things,

The resurgence of your gift itself alluding to a renaissance of magic.

Now you've a partner and a purpose.

The garden shivers under a low wind.

Unseen by your eyes,

Roots and petals are stirring,

Drinking water from a newly enchanted spring.

Across the world new things are growing,

Awakening as if from sleep,

Stirred by hope.

Hope blows the wind on the waves of the waters that surround the capital,

Pushing a little boat onward.

Hope draws the moon in closer,

And all the realm is quiet,

Quivering,

Poised on the precipice of rebirth.

Take a few deep breaths,

Inhaling deeply through your nose,

And exhaling slowly through your mouth.

With each breath,

Feel yourself becoming more and more relaxed,

Letting go,

Letting your body sink,

Becoming warm and heavy on the mattress,

Softening.

Let yourself be calm and still here,

Emptying your mind little by little,

Allowing any thoughts that arise to simply wash over you,

Embracing ease.

Gradually let your awareness become soft and open,

Rolling outward like a mist.

Notice what you can hear outside the building you're in,

Inside the building,

Inside the room.

Visualize the room without opening your eyes.

The walls,

The furniture,

The floor.

Visualize yourself lying there.

The position of your body,

The expression on your face.

Now come back to the sensation of your body,

Continuing to use the breath as a means of relaxation,

In,

Nourishing the body.

Out,

Relaxing the muscles.

Now,

Bring your awareness to the center of your forehead,

The center point between your eyebrows.

This is the location of your third eye chakra,

The energy center associated with intuition,

Insight,

And higher wisdom,

What you might call your sixth sense.

Visualize a deep indigo light,

Glowing at the center of your forehead.

With each breath,

Imagine this light growing brighter and more vibrant,

Filling your entire head with its radiant energy,

Radiating outward from you.

And as you focus on this glowing light emanating from the center of your forehead,

Feel a deeper sense of calm and peace washing over you.

You might choose an intention in this moment,

Connected with your inner wisdom or intuition.

If you need inspiration,

Consider,

I am connected to the deep wisdom of the universe.

Silently,

In your mind,

Repeat your intention three times,

With confidence,

Knowing it to already be true,

Planting it like a seed in your subconscious.

Now visualize the indigo light,

Which originates in the location of your third eye,

Between the eyebrows,

Expanding outward,

Filling your entire being with clarity and insight,

Filling the entire room.

Return to your breath,

Soaking in the energy of your third eye.

Know that your inner wisdom,

Insight,

And intuition are always available to you when you seek guidance or clarity.

Then come back to the sensation of your body,

The warmth of this deep blue light that envelops you,

Relaxing deeper and deeper into the earth,

Toward sleep,

Where intuition is our greatest guide and deep insights are revealed.

Know that you can always trust yourself,

Your connection to the deep wisdom of the universe,

And your own inner wisdom.

Breathe.

Soften.

Be at peace.

Then let go.

Sweet dreams.

Reviews

Great multi-chapter storyline with self-contained short stories. As always, I fall asleep.

It is always a pleasure listening to your beautiful words.

Rich and lovely, love the continuing threads of this story line 🥰❤️🙏🏽
Listening again brings even more depth and wisdom, thank you so much for these late night salvations🙏🏽🙏🏽

Wonderful story and great to hear from old friends. Looking forward to More. Looking forward to future episodes. Thank you for your talents.

Totally enjoyed your meditation. Thank you for your talents.