The Price

In a distant land from another age long ago, there was a forest. The forest was old. Very old. Even the smallest of its trees could not remember their early sapling days. They had all forgotten what it was like to be young.

Deep in that forest, there stood a tree. It was larger than all the rest. It was an old tree—twisted and gnarled with age. And yet, it still stood. Its ancient limbs stretched out to the overhead sun. Its roots ran down deep into the earthen fold.

Some said that tree had been there before the rest of the forest—from which all the other trees grew. Some said that. But what did they know? They were not there. Whether they were right or not didn’t matter. The tree was old. Very old. We’ll leave it at that.

There was strange magic at work in that forest, but that was to be expected. After all, a witch lived there. Like the forest she lived in, the witch was old. Perhaps she was older than even the oldest tree itself. No one knew for sure.

However, they did know—that wasn’t the sort of question you asked a witch. At least, not if you wanted to remain as you were and not cursed to wear the form of some monstrous creature. Also, that was a rather rude question to ask anyone—witch or otherwise. All this to say, the witch was old. Very old. We’ll leave it at that.

Her skin was wrinkled with age; her hair was all wispy and gray. Her dark eyes held secrets and refused to speak of them. For those brave—or foolish—enough to travel to that far-off forest, the old witch would make bargains with them. They’d find her sitting beneath that old, crooked tree. She’d beckon them closer with a bony finger and a thin smile.

She’d work great and terrible magics, cast spells, brew potions, and craft talismans to ward off evil. But most traveled to see her because they’d heard that the old witch granted wishes. It mattered not the wish or desire. No matter how dark or pure, the old witch would see it done.

For a price.

As the adage goes, “All magic has a price.” Magic came at a cost. It always did. But it wasn’t payment to the old witch for her services. She refused their offered gold and accepted nothing in return. She was adamant about that. She would sell her potions, talismans, and other trinkets and baubles—she was a marvelous woodcarver—but she wouldn’t charge a single coin to those who wanted wishes granted.

The old witch made sure the travelers were well aware of that before making a bargain with her. Many other witches and practitioners of magic wouldn’t care to do so. They approached such agreements recklessly. After all, what did it matter to them what happened to other people? Not so with the old witch. She had a strict personal code and a “Buyer Beware” policy when granting wishes.

No matter, some foolish folk would say. They could learn the cost before the spell was cast, couldn’t they?

No. That wasn’t how the old witch’s magic worked. She would explain to such folk that wasn’t how anything in this world worked.

Choices—that was what it came down to at the end of the day. We make choices, and we’re not always sure how they will affect us, others, and the world around us. Even when we think we know, we’re often proved wrong. There will always be some small measure of uncertainty about the choices we make.

Why should magic be any different? You have a choice—cast the spell and roll the dice on the outcome… or don’t. Because even with a strange and mysterious force such as magic, there were rules set in place. Rules that could not be broken. As such, all magic had a price. And it was only after the choice was made, the bargain struck, and the spell cast that they would find out what it had cost them. That was how it worked.

Some heeded the old witch’s words of warning. What they had wanted was not worth the potential cost. But that was not true for all. Even after her warning, many would still ask her to work her magic for them. Why? Was it a mad desire for power that had consumed them? Had they weighed the uncertain cost and deemed it worth the risk? Perhaps. Who could say?

For some poor, unfortunate souls, the price of magic was too great. The cost was too high. They paid dearly for their greed. Sooner or later, they all did. Despite that, people kept traveling to that far-off forest with wishes and desires to be fulfilled, and the old witch kept on working her magic for them. Why?

She could have stopped working her magic spells for them. She could have said no. But there would always be others who would say yes. Others who didn’t care what happened to the people and the world around them. And so, the old witch made her choice. Because she had learned from her own mistakes regarding magic and wanted to help others learn what she had—long, long ago. The error of her ways.

She still wasn’t sure how her choice would affect the people and the world around her. In some ways, it was affecting them positively, and in other ways negatively. Such are all our decisions in life. She hoped that her decision would help people see the truth. Some things should not be wished for. Some things should be worked for. If those things can’t be achieved—unless aided by magic—perhaps they should not be worked for at all.

If ever you find yourself in that far-off forest and stumble across a tree, larger and older than the rest, there you will also find an old witch. She’s still there, I’m told, to this very day. She’ll grant your wishes—if you dare. But you know—all magic has its price. So you must ask yourself—is it worth it?

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