Part 2

Mr. Parrish woke to the muffled voices of a woman and a man arguing. His head still felt a bit fuzzy from his fight, so he had difficulty understanding what was being said at first. He did notice, however, that was in a bed the size of a wagon. It was covered with numerous cushions, both round and rectangular, that gently cradled his body. There were silk sheets, lighter than a breeze of wind, that felt smooth and cool on his bare skin. It was comfortable, despite the aches in his body. He turned his attention back to the voices when he noticed them becoming increasingly louder and clearer as they argued, which also started to give him a headache.

"How can you even say that? Do you care at all what happened to our son?" said the woman.

"The boy needs to learn." replied the man.

"That sounds just like him."

"You forget that we're only here because of him."

"The devils in all the hells could care more if the world is here because of him. You didn't see the look on Jan's face."

The woman sat straight in a chair next to the bed. She was middle aged and wore an expression reminiscent of a stern librarian. Her hair was the color of baked bread and shaped into a messy bun. The man stood next to her; his arms folded across his chest. His hair was a tangled mess of curled salt and pepper fluff and a five o'clock shadow painted his definitively square jaw.

"By the heavens, do you have to argue so loud? I can't even die in peace with all your yelling." Mr. Parrish interrupted.

"Oh good. You're awake." said the woman.

She then slapped Mr. Parrish hard across the face. The sting from her abrupt attack was intense and, for a moment, Mr. Parrish had almost lost consciousness again.

"Dammit girl!"

"What in the hells were you thinking exposing Jan to all that!?"

"Bonnie." said the man.

"No. I want to know what happened and why my son was covered in blood."

Mr. Parrish rubbed at his cheek and gestured to the man.

"I didn't do a damn thing. Ask him."

The man donned a confused expression.

"Me!?" he exclaimed the man.

"Jasper?" said Bonnie.

"I didn't do anything."

"You left your damn book where Jan could get it." Mr. Parrish spat.

"What book?"

"Apparently one with a dead guy trapped in it. Now slap him and let me get some sleep."

Bonnie slapped Mr. Parrish again; this time on the shoulder.

"What in the layered hells is wrong with you, girl?"

"We're not done talking, old man."

"From how you're treating me you should've just let me die."

Bonnie donned an expression of mock surprise.

"In my house!? No, if you want to die you do it in your home. Not mine." she replied.

"What happened to you? You used to be cute and nice and didn't torture old men."

"I guess I picked up more than just knowledge from my teacher."

"Bon." said Jasper

"What?" snapped Bonnie.

Jasper gave her a pleading look.

"Our son, Jasper, was covered in blood. I have a right to know."

"I didn't say you don't. Now breathe. Just like we practiced and let's hear him out."

Bonnie glared at Jasper. She clenched her hands into fists and looked as though she was about to punch him. Instead, she closed her eyes and began to breathe slow deep breaths.

"Teacher."

"Jasper."

"You called me at work and said Jan was bugging you. And now we find you nearly dead in our home, the house destroyed, and our son covered in blood. As your formal pupil and as a father, please tell us what happened."

Mr. Parrish let out a sigh. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into his pillow.

"How long have I been out?"

"About a day. Maybe a little less. Bon tended to your wounds."

"The boy?"

"A little shook, but almost no injuries."

Mr. Parrish nodded his head and took a deep breath of his own before taking a moment to organize his thoughts. He still did not feel particularly well. He wanted to rest a bit more before any further conversation, but he empathized with their anxiousness. After a couple seconds, he told them about the events of the past few days starting with Jan and the incident in his workshop. There were some complaints when Mr. Parrish began to ramble on about his visit to the Ticking Teeth or about his tea garden, which led to Mr. Parrish complaining about their complaints. When he finished, there was a moment of silence as Bonnie and Jasper processed all the information.

"I still don't understand why would you cut off Figgy's wing."

"Jasper!" shouted Bonnie.

"What?"

"I told him to move!" shouted Mr. Parrish.

"Teacher!?" shouted Bonnie.

"Well I did!" Mr. Parrish shouted back.

Bonnie placed a thumb and finger on the bridge of her nose, and began to massage the spot in-between her eyes. After a couple seconds, she stood from her chair.

"I can't deal with this." she said

Bonnie then promptly exited the room. It was silent as Mr. Parrish adjusted himself to a more comfortable position on the bed.

"Thank you for helping my son." said Jasper, "I know that you didn't have to. And I know it cost you a great deal. And for what it's worth I'm sorry for the trouble."

"You should throw away that painting." Mr. Parrish replied.

Jasper paused before replying.

"We like it."

"Why?"

"For me, it's like looking back at my childhood. When I was learning and growing. For Bon, she says it reminds her of when we were like a family."

Mr. Parrish scoffed. Jasper patted Mr. Parrish on the arm.

"Get some rest, teacher. And careful with that arm."

Jasper then exited the room. For a while, Mr. Parrish stared at the ceiling. He tried to keep his mind blank as sometimes it would begin to wander and think of things on its own. He also knew that once his mind began to race it was often difficult to stop; let alone rest. This time the image of Jan possessed by the spirit replayed over and over in his mind and, even though he won that fight, he still did not like it. So, Mr. Parrish focused on his breathing and began to count the breaths. Eventually, his eyes grew heavy enough to fall on their own, and when they closed he allowed the darkness to take him.

The next morning, Mr Parrish woke to thin beams of sunlight piercing through the window curtains. He threw back the covers of the bed as he got out. His clothes were clean and neatly folded on a corner of the bed, and his left arm was now in a sling. He guessed that Bonnie must have come back while he was asleep and placed it on him without waking him. She was always much better at that sort of thing. He scratched his scruffy beard before fixing the covers as best he could, changed his clothes, and exited the room.

Most of the house was still destroyed from the fight and, after a bit of wandering, he also found that he was alone. He had expected to at least find Jan as the boy had promised to give back the wind up key. Mr. Parrish clicked his tongue and decided to search the house to find the key on his own. After two hours of searching with no luck, Mr. Parrish became frustrated. He let out a sigh and decided that the better thing to do was to go home and wait for Jan to come to him like he always did. He guessed that it would be no longer than a couple of days before he saw the boy again, so he might as well wait. After all, they do say that good fortune comes to those who wait. Mr. Parrish exited through the front door and, with a whisper, locked it. He shook his head once more at the lawn and made his way back home.

When he arrived, Mr. Parrish felt a sense of calm wash over him. The rich scent of his maple tea still hung in the air and he could feel his body begin to slump as it involuntarily began to relax. Slowly, Mr. Parrish forced himself to the kitchen, each foot dragging along the floor. Now that he was home, he became much more aware of the soreness in his muscles, the ache in his broken arm, and the ghost of a sting from where Bonnie had slapped him. He brewed a new batch of tea, this one a sapphire blue that quickly melted into an amethyst purple after he added some lemon juice. The lingering maple scent was replaced with a heavy floral one, as if the room had suddenly been filled with a flower garden with just a hint of lemon. He then grabbed a jar of rectangular pea green leaves from his cabinet and, using a mortar and pestle, ground some into a paste; cursing and grumbling to himself each time he could not use his left arm.

When he finished, Mr. Parrish sat at his dining table. The tea was now in a white porcelain cup decorated with frolicking golden animals while the paste was atop a saucer of matching design. The tea was pleasant. Drinking it was almost syrup smooth and tasted just as floral as the scent it gave. The paste, however, was like freshly pulled lawn grass. Mr. Parrish let out a deep breath and closed his eyes as he leaned back in the chair and donned a faint smile. Slowly, he felt his aches melt away from the herb paste, although not completely. It was quiet. Only the faint rustling of the trees from outside filled the silence. He was at peace until a sudden and loud cacophony of glass and wood crashing and tumbling down the stairs interrupted him.

"Just end me." sighed Mr. Parrish.

Mr. Parrish turned to the source of the noise. At the bottom of the stairs were wooden boxes of various sizes and numerous glass vials, some broken or cracked. Hopping down from the top of the stairs, one by one, was Figgy.

"Where have you been?" Asked Figgy, "And why do you look like you were hit by a wagon full of ugly?"

"You know it shocks me sometimes how much you care."said Mr. Parrish

"Whatever it was you probably dealt with it. Now look at this!"

Figgy jumped on top of one of the boxes and proudly stretched out a fully grown right wing. Mr. Parrish narrowed his eyes.

"What am I looking at here?"

"My wing, stupid. My wing grew back!"

Mr. Parrish looked at the wing and frowned. He was confused. In the past, it had taken nearly a month for Figgy's wing to grow to its full size and he had only been gone for a couple days. For a moment, he began to question himself as to whether or not a month had already passed since the incident with Figgy's wing, but quickly dismissed the thought.

"Come here." said Mr. Parrish.

"For what?"

"I want to examine it. Now come here."

"You're not going to do something to me are you?"

"Will you shut up and come here for a minute?"

Figgy hopped off the box and, with slow cautionary steps, walked to Mr. Parrish. Mr. Parrish gently scooped up Figgy with his good arm, placed him on the table, and began to examine the wing. It was, indeed, real and fully grown. There was still something about it, though, that Mr. Parrish found odd. The feathers felt soft and light like feathers should, and the bones were sturdy and solid with no signs of malformations or spots that grew incorrectly. But the muscles in Figgy's wing twitched and shook as if they were having difficulty supporting everything. Mr. Parrish rubbed the scruff of his beard as he pondered this.

"What did you do?" he asked.

" What do you mean?"

"I was only gone for a couple days. Three max. There's no way it grew back in that time."

"Well it did, Parrish. And that means I am free to fly."

"Ok. Then fly."

"What?"

"Or glide. From here to the front door. Whichever."

Figgy looked at the front door and back at Mr. Parrish. He began flapping his wings before jumping from the table, and, for a brief moment, managed to glide; wings fully stretched out. As he glided forward though, his right wing began to involuntarily fold. No longer able to maintain a straight forward glide, Figgy turned and crashed into the wall and shouting in a triumphant tone.

"Ha! How do you like that, Parrish!?"

Mr. Parrish frowned and, once again, rubbed his chin. He had half expected Figgy to use some sort of magic or trickery, but Mr. Parrish did not feel nor spot anything of the sort. Figgy did, in fact, use his wing to glide even if it was only for a brief moment. Still, Mr. Parrish could not shake the feeling that something about it was strange.

"Well?" said Figgy expectantly.

"What?"

"Are you going to keep me prisoner or am I free?"

Mr. Parrish let out an exhausted sigh. He was still not fully recovered from the previous day's events. As he pondered about strangeness of Figgy's wing he found his thoughts often shifting to thoughts of taking a nap. In the end, he decided that maybe he was overthinking it and that perhaps the wing just needed proper exercise.

"I should keep you inside, so you can build muscle."

Figgy began to protest, but Mr. Parrish held up a hand.

"But you won't shut up about it, so fine. I suppose you can consider yourself free."

Figgy began to cheer. Mr. Parrish forced himself up from his chair and opened the front door.

"There. Have at it. Just make sure you focus on strengthening your wing. It's been a while since you've flown."

Mr. Parrish then began to make his way toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" asked Figgy.

"To take a nap."

"You've been gone for a while"

"And?"

"I figured you'd go back to your clock or at least pick up the pieces from the store."

Mr. Parrish donned a pained expression and began to rub the back of his neck. He had nearly forgotten about the clock piece he ordered from Barneby.

"I'll just pick it up after my nap. I should still have time."

"Alright." said Figgy.

Figgy walked through the front door as Mr. Parrish went upstairs into his room, laid atop his cozy familiar bed, and immediately drifted to sleep.

Mr. Parrish did not dream. He barely felt himself rest as he was later awoken from his nap by the sound of shouting from the front yard. His eyes shot open and he sprung out of bed. Adrenaline hastened his heartbeat as thoughts of an attack filled his head. He rushed through the hall and down the stairs to the front yard where from atop a large bush Figgy was shouting for help. Below Figgy, sitting on the emerald colored grass and staring up with deceptively innocent eyes, was a small black and white cat.

"Parrish! Help me get back inside please."

Mr. Parrish paused and let out a deep sigh of relief. He took a couple of slow deep breaths to calm himself before he began to feel the familiar feeling of annoyance.

"I knew it! I knew that the moment I let you out you'd pick a fight with the damn cat. And now look at you."

"The cat started it, Parrish! I was just about to fly again too!"

Mr. Parrish frowned.

"What do you mean 'just about to'? How long have I been asleep?"

"Why does that matter? Are you going to help me or not?"

"So you're telling me that within the entire time I've been asleep, you still can't get off the ground?"

"No, I just enjoy being in life or death situations." said Figgy sarcastically.

"It doesn't take that long for a bird to be able to fly, Figgy. Your wing didn't really grow back, did it?"

The cat crept closer until it was directly in front of the bush and looked as though it was preparing to jump up.

"Parrish!"

"Why can't you fly, Figgy?"

"Dammit Parrish! Just get me inside."

"Fine! But, you're going to give me answers."

"Fine!"

"And I want my chair back."

"What?"

Mr. Parrish gave an expectant look. Figgy looked at Mr. Parrish and then back at the cat. Then, without warning, the cat lept atop the bush. Immediately, Figgy jumped onto the lawn and began to rush back to the house with the cat in pursuit. Being twice Figgy's size, the cat lunged forward and pinned Figgy to the ground where they began to wrestle and bite at one another. Figgy screeched in terror as the cat bit down on his neck and began to drag him across the lawn.

Mr. Parrish ran forward and began to shout in an attempt to scare away the cat, but it was unwilling to release its prey and only began to retreat faster. Mr. Parrish cursed and then quickly picked a blade of grass. He whispered a word and each blade of grass in the lawn began to grow and individually wriggle like tentacles from a giant sea anemone. Cluster after cluster, they shot forward and grasped at the cat causing it to frantically bite and claw at each blade, dropping Figgy from its fangs in the process. Mr. Parrish made his way forward as the grass moved aside and split as if creating a path for him to follow. Gently, he picked up the bird when he arrived. The feathers were now ruffled and there were red blotches on the neck and on some parts of the torso, but, thankfully, Figgy was still alive. Mr. Parrish released the spell and watched as the cat sprinted down the road before carrying Figgy inside.

"I told you." said Mr. Parrish.

Figgy did not reply.

After entering the house, Mr. Parrish carried Figgy back to the dining table where he began to thoroughly examine the hawk. As expected, he discovered puncture marks on the neck and on other parts of the torso along with a fractured bone in Figgy's left wing.

Mr. Parrish let out a sigh. There was a part of him that felt odd seeing Figgy in such a state. He was not entirely sure if what he felt was sadness or disappointment or perhaps both. In the past, Figgy had fought alongside Mr. Parrish against demons. He had witnessed Figgy combat fairies that plagued forests and slay werewolves one hundred times his size. He remembered a time when Figgy's speed was so great he could barely see him strike. Now, he saw a small injured bird that was nearly eaten by a house cat.

"You still alive?", Mr. Parrish asked.

"You still asking dumb questions?"

Mr. Parrish looked Figgy in the eyes.

"Talk." he demanded.

"You're not even going to heal me first?"

"I could. Or I could just leave you like this and keep you in the house for an even longer amount of time."

There was a brief moment of silence as Figgy pondered Mr. Parrish's words.

"The cabinet next to where you keep your gardening tools. In the back you have an old box of potions from when you practiced alchemy."

Mr. Parrish thought about it for a moment. It had been a long time since he had touched a potion vial, let alone practice alchemy. He barely remembered the times when toyed with chemical or herbal combinations hoping to discover something that would change the world. Instead, he discovered how terrible he was at alchemy. So he gave it up and stashed what was left somewhere in the house.

As he slowly recalled those days, he thought about the potions he created. He searched his memories of classes and experiments when he recalled one of the last mixtures he had created. And then it dawned on him.

"You dumbass!" Mr. Parrish suddenly shouted, "That's why you weren't able to fly. Your wing didn't grow back, you enlarged your underdeveloped wing."

"Well, I didn't know." replied Figgy as he looked away.

"Uh huh. And you mean to tell me that you still didn't know when you drank more?"

Figgy did not reply.

"Do you have any idea what kind of damage you probably have done to your body?"

"And what would you know, Parrish?"

"I know quite a bit in case you've forgotten."

"In case you've forgotten, I can't do anything if I can't use my wings! You have options, Parrish. I don't!"

Mr. Parrish frowned and rubbed at his left hand. They stared at each other in silence until Mr. Parrish stood and walked into the kitchen grumbling to himself the entire way. He opened a cabinet and retrieved the remaining leaves he had ground into a paste the day before and repeated the process of grinding them to make more paste.

"Penguins can't fly." said Mr. Parrish, breaking the silence.

"Do I look as obese as a Penguin?" asked Figgy.

There was another pause before Figgy spoke again.

"Parrish. Do you remember when we used to hunt? We used to go into the forest and find things. Do things. Now all you do is meaningless stuff like make that stupid clock."

"I already told you-"

"Yeah yeah. Keep telling yourself whatever you want to make yourself feel better."

Mr. Parrish leaned back and crossed his arms.

"Pretty dumb thing to say to the guy that's treating your wounds you."

"Does it even matter at this point?"

Mr. Parrish stared at Figgy for a moment before scooping up the paste with a spoon and feeding it to him. Figgy was reluctant at first, but eventually after a bit of convincing, he gave in and ate the paste. Much like Mr. Parrish, Figgy became sleepy after eating the paste. So Mr. Parrish carried him up the stairs and into the workshop where he gently set Figgy onto the chair and allowed him to sleep. When Figgy had fallen completely asleep, Mr. Parrish gathered his coat and made his way back to the town square to the Ticking Teeth. When Mr. Parrish arrived at the store, he proceeded with his usual entrance.

"Barneby!" Mr Parrish shouted, "You will not believe the shit I've had to deal with recently."

"Hello Mr. Parrish."

Katie greeted him from behind the counter. She was now wearing white cotton gloves. Behind her, a little ways down the counter, was another clock. This one was also taken apart, but this time the parts were in neatly laid out rows from bigger to smaller pieces.

"Could you maybe not yell when you arrive? It could disturb other customers." Asked Katie.

Mr. Parrish then glanced about the empty store.

"Yes. Business appears to be booming. Now where is Barneby? Is he hiding again?"

"I believe he is behind the aisles somewhere doing a bit of rearranging."

Mr. Parrish nodded and made his way down the aisles. He passed buckets of screws, different clock hands, clock faces, and gears. When he reached the end of the aisle, Barneby was a few feet away swinging a broom as if it was a spear.

"Barneby!"

Barneby jumped at the sudden shout.

"Mr. Parrish!"

"Are you winning the fight?"

A shade of red flushed over Barneby's face.

"Do you really have to shout every time you're here?"

"I was just making sure you could hear me properly during your battle."

"Mr. Parrish, what happened to you? You look like you got run over by a wagon."

Mr. Parrish summarized the recent events and Barneby listened. His eyes widened slightly and he began to lean in closer as Mr. Parrish mentioned the fight with the spirit. When Mr. Parrish finished, Barneby stared and said nothing.

"So in conclusion, I need you to order a gold wind up key."

Barneby cleared his throat.

"Uh...right. Mr. Parrish, you still haven't taken your glass face, which I tried to send a notice about by the way."

"Well, I'm here now. So I'll be taking that home. But I need another key."

"You know if you keep the pendulum going then you won't actually need the key."

"I'm well aware of that, Barneby. But then I won't exactly have ALL the pieces of the clock now will I?"

"Again, Mr Parrish, you don't need all the pieces, especially the wind up key, for the clock to work. Plus, I can't keep doing all of these orders for you."

"Barneby, we've been through this. I don't care how much or how long it takes to get here. I just want the damn key."

"It's not a matter of price. I don't even know the size or-"

"Size 7. Anything else?" Mr. Parrish interrupted.

"Shape."

"Shape? It's a wind up key for a clock, Barneby, not a lock."

Barneby sighed.

"Alright. I'll send a messenger at the end of the day and we'll see what happens. Can you, at least, tell me the measurements for the key? It would make it easier."

"Great. And my previous order?"

"Behind the counter."

Barneby led Mr. Parrish to the counter and proceeded to wrap the new glass face in a smooth cloth before placing it in a paper bag.

"Why do you care so much, Mr. Parrish? They're just clocks."

"They're a representation of order, Barneby. Both in the tangible and intangible sense. Without order, logic, fitting, it doesn't work. All the while showing us in physical form the passage, flow, and travel of time."

"That's an interesting look at it, but that doesn't answer my question."

"What are you talking about?'

"Why do you care?"

Mr. Parrish frowned in confusion.

"Did you hit your head when I wasn't looking, Barneby? I just told-"

"Nevermind. I'll send a message for that new order." sighed Barneby.

Mr Parrish shook his head and began to exit the shop when Barneby called out to him as he was halfway through the door.

"Mr. Parrish!"

Mr. Parrish stopped and looked back.

"Did all that stuff you said really happen?"

"Of course it did, Barneby."

Mr. Parrish began to grumble to himself as he exited the shop and made his way back home.

The next morning, Mr. Parrish examined his arm. He still could not fully extend it without some pain, but otherwise it was fine. He nodded in approval and then made his way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast. The wooden boxes and crates and glass vials still littered the floor, so he resolved to clean it up later. He proceeded to the kitchen where he had a simple breakfast of eggs and buttered toast. When he finished, he looked at the dirty dishes piled in the sink, then at the mess of boxes and vials, and then at his broken arm. He let out a sigh and sucked a tooth before making his way to the sink and attempted to clean the dishes using his good arm and a damp cloth. Immediately, Mr. Parrish became frustrated. He grumbled and cursed as pots, pans, and plates slid around as he scrubbed away at the grime. Eventually, he gave up and began to pick up empty vials. None were cracked, so there was no risk of him cutting himself, and they were slender enough to where Mr. Parrish could easily carry multiple within one hand. When most of the vials were collected, he started on to the boxes. One by one, he scooped them up and carried them under his arm until placing them in a satisfactory spot. Often, the heavier boxes would fall and Mr. Parrish would invent new curses involving boxes as he repeated the process of picking them up and dropping them. One box fell on a group of vials that Mr. Parrish had yet to pick up. Both the box and the vials broke, leaving splintered pieces of wood along with shards of glass on the floor. As Mr. Parrish picked up the pieces, he got a splinter and even cut himself on one of the broken vials.

By that point, he had had enough. Mr. Parrish snatched a piece of air that drifted past his face and whispered a command. A cool and brief gust of wind filled the room and tiny tornadoes began to scoop up and carry everything. The glass vials that remained floated across the air and into their perspective containers while the boxes and crates wobbled and rolled up the stairs as the tornadoes pushed them up. One tornado went into the kitchen and furiously began to spin the damp cloth Mr. Parrish used for the dishes, scrubbing away at them leaving behind a stack of spotless plates, pots, and pans. Mr. Parrish sat back down at the dining room table and watched in silence; his brows slightly furrowed. He had forgotten how easy it was to allow magic to take over and just how bizarre and utterly fantastical the sight of it looked.

After everything was cleaned and put away, Mr. Parrish went outside to tend to his tea garden. Not much had changed over the past couple days he had been gone. Some of the plants needed to be watered and a few weeds had begun to sprout in certain places, but there were still no signs of any new tea plants or otherwise interesting developments. Mr. Parrish let out a sigh. After the ordeal he had been through, he was hoping to at least get some comfort or small reward from his garden in the form of a new tea. Instead, he was rewarded with the task of more labor.

Unwilling to repeat the frustrations from earlier, Mr. Parrish kneeled low to the ground and whispered into a patch of dirt. Moments later, clumps of dirt and rock mashed together forming small snowmen like clay dolls; each of them no larger than a foot in size. Mr. Parrish watched as they clumsily ran through the garden and began uprooting weeds and cleaning soil. A faint smile crept its way onto his face. For some reason that Mr. Parrish could not understand, he enjoyed watching them. It was almost as if they were playing rather than working and, even though the dolls had no faces, Mr. Parrish could somehow feel their smiles. It made him want to do more. He vaguely remembered a spell he used to do when he was younger to impress nobles or for magical demonstrations that would be useful for his garden. He then walked over to the stream that flowed through his garden and scooped a handful of water. He reached deep into his imagination and whispered a word, not at, but into the water. He could feel the spirits pull at his energy, but rather than feeling drained or tired, it felt good. A second passed and the water in his palm began to swirl, then split, and then clump together forming tiny water horses; each the size of a dragonfly. With a flick of his hand, they began to run and prance through the air and around the garden, gently watering what plants needed water and leaving rainbows, just barely visible, in their path. With a pointed finger, he commanded the horses to run in certain directions. He pointed and swirled and, at one point, began to move as if he was dancing with the horses and clay dolls. He chuckled as some horses ran across his arms, leaving tiny wet hoof prints on his coat, before leaping back into the air, and at some of the clay dolls that clumsily tripped or bumped into each other as they danced. For the first time in a long while, Mr. Parrish was having fun. And then, on the other side of his fence, eyes wide and mouth agape, was Jan.

Mr. Parrish's hand did a quick motion and the horses and dolls fell to the ground as plain water and dirt. He was not expecting an audience. He felt as though he had been caught singing passionately into a hairbrush and still nude after a bath. With a slightly reddened face, he cleared his throat before speaking.

"What are you doing here boy? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"That was amazing. Do you think I'll be able to do that someday?"

"Maybe. But it takes practice and dedication. Build your stamina, talk to the spirits, learn what they have to say, and someday you might."

Jan looked a bit different since last Mr. Parrish had seen him. He was much more pale and he looked tired as if he had not slept in days. Mr. Parrish also noticed Jan tense when he mentioned spirits and began to wonder if it was all side effects of Jan's soul getting bitten by the piranhas.

"Don't misunderstand, boy." Mr. Parrish added, "I'm not talking about the one you encountered. That was different. That wasn't a true spirit. Just a dead guy with an attitude. That's all."

"I heard that you didn't need spirits."

"And where'd you hear that dribble?"

"From one of the teachers at the academy. Mother and Father took me to the academy in the capitol. They said I could learn how to protect myself from spirits there."

"The academy huh? You go there and they'll barely teach you how to wipe your ass."

"What's wrong with the school?"

"You won't learn what you need to from that place. Trust me."

"Mother and Father said it'll be good for me."

Mr. Parrish frowned.

"They said what?"

Jan said nothing for several seconds. Then he reached into his pocket and stretched out his hand. When he opened it, in the middle of his palm, there was a small gold cylinder with a flat end.

"It's your clock key. I found it on the floor in the bathroom. I think I dropped it when I was running." Jan said.

Mr. Parrish walked over and picked it out of Jan's palm.

"You didn't accidentally pee on it did you?"

"No."

"Good."

Mr. Parrish tucked it away in his coat pocket.

"Anyway, I have to get home before Mother and Father notice. Goodbye Mr. Parrish."

Mr. Parrish watched the boy walk away. For some reason, he found it odd for the boy to call him 'Mr. Parrish'. It sounded wrong coming out of the boy's mouth. He twirled the key between his thumb and finger in his pocket. It was still cold to the touch after being exposed to the morning air. After a couple more seconds, Mr. Parrish shouted after Jan.

"Wait!" he shouted.

Mr. Parrish brushed off his coat and walked over to where Jan stood.

"Mr. Parrish?"

"Alright, let's go." said Mr. Parrish.

"Mr. Parrish?"

"First, I'm walking you home. Second, I'm going to have a talk with your parents."

The two of them made their way up the street until they arrived at the familiar two story house. They walked up the dirt path where Mr. Parrish shook his head at the lawn before knocking on the door. When it opened, Jasper was on the other side; a surprised expression on his face. His hair was disheveled and he looked as if he had woken up from a nap.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" shouted Mr. Parrish.

"Teacher?"

"You and Bon are supposed to be teaching the boy."

Jasper let out a sigh then peeked outside, glancing left and then right, before letting Mr. Parrish in. When Mr. Parrish entered the house, he was a little surprised to see it both clean and repaired so quickly. It was almost as if the fight between he and the spirit never happened. He was impressed, though he would not say it.

"Jan." said Jasper, "Why don't you go to your room for a bit, bud. Your mom and I are going to talk to Mr. Parrish."

Jan looked at Mr. Parrish and then back at Jasper before heading upstairs to his room.

Mr. Parrish followed Jasper to the dining room. There was still a faint black mark on the floor where Mr. Parrish had defeated the spirit. Jasper then gestured to a chair tucked under a dark hazelnut wooden table.

"Have a seat teacher. I'm sure you're tired."

"I'm not tired." said Mr. Parrish.

But, he still sat in the chair.

"Uh huh." replied Jasper.

Jasper then went into the kitchen and began to fill a kettle with water.

"Do you still like your tea the same way?"

"Of course I do."

Jasper made some tea and poured it into plain solid blue tea cups. As he did, the room filled with the scent of a light black tea with a hint of orange. He then placed the cup in front of Mr. Parrish and then sat at the table in an adjacent chair.

"Bon should be here in a few minutes. We'll discuss it then."

They sat in silence drinking their tea until Bonnie walked in through the front door in a milk chocolate brown coat and white sun hat.

"Teacher?" said Bonnie.

"Bon." acknowledged Mr. Parrish.

Bonnie frowned and looked at Jasper, who simply gestured to the chair next to him. She then looked back at Mr. Parrish before walking over to the table and sitting down next to Jasper.

"Ok. What's this all about?" Jasper asked.

"I'll train the boy."

"Absolutely not" Bonnie immediately replied.

"So you would rather limit his potential and have him taught by people that barely comprehend the possibilities of magic?"

"I would rather he learn in a safer environment with kids his own age. On top of that, develop the mindset to wield all the knowledge of an in depth study into what magic actually is."

"The only 'in depth' study he'll get is how he is a failure if he doesn't follow their methods. What about imagination? What about the spirits and what they can teach?"

"Teacher, you abandoned your own practices, so don't lecture us on what Jan can learn from spirits."

"If memory serves, Bon, I'm the one that taught the both of you. So I'm pretty sure that I'm in the perfect position to lecture you."

"Yes you did. And quite frankly, it was hell. I'm not willing to put Jan through the same hell that you put Jasper and I through."

"And because of that I've made you more capable than any of those idiots at the academy. If anything, you two were supposed to teach him."

"Regardless, teacher." Jasper interjected, "Jan will be given more opportunities to live a better life than Bon or I ever had."

"Yeah. Opportunities given by those that seek to exploit him, not because they want him to be a great magician."

"Still, Bon and I have already accepted the positions on the council. We're going to the capitol."

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any dumber, you surprised me. How many brain cells have the two of you lost in the past few days?"

Bonnie spoke up.

"Teacher. Times are changing. Independent magicians are becoming more and more frowned upon. The political climate is getting worse for us and the only skills that Jasper or I have is magic. What options do we have?"

"If anything." Jasper added, "we are doing this for Jan. Please try to understand that."

Mr. Parrish let out a sigh, scratched the white fuzz atop his head, and drank more of his tea.

"You say you're doing it for Jan, but you don't even know how much you're going to limit him. You're more concerned with politics than Jan actually being a great magician."

Jasper leaned in and slightly lowered his voice.

"Teacher. You pretty much raised Bon and I. You taught us everything we know. Our magic. To survive. Even how to do our own laundry. We love you like a father. But Jan is not your child nor your student. He is not your concern."

There was a brief moment of silence as Jasper and Mr. Parrish stared at each other. Then Mr. Parrish finished his tea and excused himself from the house, nearly slamming the door upon exiting.

"Your lawn still looks like shit!" He shouted back as he walked down the gravel entryway.

Further down the road, about halfway home, Mr. Parrish slowed his pace to a leisurely stroll. There was a chill in the afternoon air that bit at his skin and his thoughts turned to drinking hot tea in his workshop and forgetting about the world. He stuck his hand in his pocket and, almost subconsciously, began to twirl the key with his fingers. It was still cold to the touch. He then remembered he had an order to pick up at The Ticking Teeth and that he would also need to cancel the order for the replacement key now that he had his wind up key back. While he did have fun teasing Barneby, he did not want to give the boy unnecessary work. He also thought that maybe the walk to the town square and more fresh air may do him some good and remove his thoughts entirely from the argument, though deep down he doubted it. Mr. Parrish took a deep breath then made his way to The Ticking Teeth.

When Mr. Parrish arrived, he entered in his usual manner.

"Barneby!" shouted Mr Parrish.

After a moment, a man he had never seen before approached. He had a smile that was loud and practically reached from ear to ear. His mud brown hair was split down the middle and he wore a tan apron that was too clean for one to be working with metals and oils. It was painfully obvious to Mr. Parrish that he was new and, judging from how clean the apron was, he guessed that this person had most likely never touched a clock in his life.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Yes, I'm looking for Barneby."

"I'm sorry sir, he is no longer with the company."

"What?"

"Not to worry sir. While he was quite knowledgeable about our products I'm sure you will find that I make an excellent stand in."

"Well that's a shame. I went to him for everything, you see."

"A truly unfortunate circumstance, sir. But, I'm sure we can still make things work." said the man through his smile.

Mr. Parrish frowned. He was not entirely sure as to why, but there was something about the man's smile that made Mr. Parrish want to punch him.

"Right." Mr Parrish said, "Well, what about, uh, what was her name? Small, red hair, glasses?"

"Katie? Oh she has the day off, sir. It's just me for now."

"I see. Well, Barneby placed an order for a certain part for me."

"Oh yes. Right this way."

The man led Mr. Parrish to the counter where he began rummaging through some boxes.

"Theodore Parrish?"

"Yeah"

The man placed a a small wooden box atop the counter and revealed a spotless solid gold clock key.

"Does this match your order?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's the one."

"Wonderful. That'll be 6 gold pieces." said the man.

Mr. Parrish paid the six gold pieces and the man accepted them a little too eagerly from what Mr. Parrish noticed.

"Thank you for your business. Is there anything else I can help you with? We do have a great selection of newly crafted clocks that just arrived."

"Actually, I could use something else. A special tool that allows me to get to the smaller screws in difficult nooks. I'm making a clock of my own, you see."

"Oh, that is wonderful, sir. Not many people understand the sophisticated processes of crafting a clock. I would be happy to show you our selection of tools."

Mr. Parrish held up his hand.

"I'm familiar with the selection. There's nothing there that I need. How much for a custom made tool."

"I'm sorry sir, but we don't do custom orders."

"What are you talking about? I've always had my custom orders done through here. You just handed me a custom order."

"You see sir, we're not supposed to be doing special orders like this. It was a policy implemented by the higher ups months ago. So unfortunately that golden key will be your last one."

"What in the blazing hells!? I've been a customer here for years. This place practically stays open because of me."

"And we thank you for your business."

"Then will you at least be maintaining the shipping schedule for parts?"

"Unfortunately not sir. Moving forward we will only be selling the clocks. Any and all repairs or replacements will have to be done through one of our experts at a different location."

"That's ridiculous! This place barely gets customers as it is. You'll shut down within the next few months."

"I'm sorry sir, but I'll have to ask you to not shout."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does my shouting inconvenience you?" Mr. Parrish snapped.

"You could try placing special orders through our shop in the capitol."

"You expect me to go to the capitol just to place an order and come back just so I could go to the capitol again!?"

"It does depend on how much you want to craft your clock, sir."

"You people are idiots! Who's in charge here? I want to speak to them."

"I'm sorry, sir, but like I said I'm the only one here today."

"And when will your superior be here?"

"They are fairly busy with the company's expansion, so it could be a few weeks." said the man, still smiling.

"A few…this is ridiculous!"

Glaring at the man, Mr. Parrish snatched the golden key off of the counter and stormed out of the shop.

"Thank you for visiting. I hope to see you again."

"Oh you will!" Mr. Parrish shouted.

It was sunset now as Mr. Parrish made his way back home. The sky burned tangerine and gold as the sun dipped behind the mountains, and Mr. Parrish mumbled and grumbled to himself as he walked back up the road. It was much colder now than before, but he did not care. He barely remembered the walk as his mind stewed in angry thoughts of the world. It was only when he arrived at his lawn did he realize he had made it back home. He stopped at his porch steps, let out a sigh, and looked at the sun before it had completely vanished.

"What would you do in my shoes huh?" he asked.

He stood there for a moment as if expecting a reply. When nothing happened, he walked through the front door and entered his home.

The next day was quiet. Mr. Parrish got his chores done, albeit with the aid of a little magic here and there, and Figgy did not make any of his usual complaints. At times, Mr. Parrish tried to speak with Figgy, but would only get one word replies and there was only so much of that he could take before giving up on conversing. Jan did not make his usual appearances and there was no reason for Mr. Parrish to leave the house. So, he did the only thing he could think of which was work on his clock. Much like the chores, he decided he would use a bit of magic as a substitute for his broken arm. He snatched another piece of air, whispered a word and little nearly invisible wind spirits, similar in shape to the clay dolls and no larger than a couple inches, gathered atop his desk. As he worked, he found that had trouble focusing as his mind would often wander to recent events and begin to ponder on what sort of things he should do in the near future. Now that he no longer found The Ticking Teeth useful, he thought about whether or not to take up a new hobby and what sort of new things he could learn. Or possibly following his former pupils to the capitol and starting a shop of his own; though he imagined that he would just become even more annoyed with people.

After being lost in thought for a few minutes, he then realized that he had completely stopped moving his hand and allowed the wind spirits to take over. The spirits casually walked atop the desk connecting or creating pieces to the clock as Mr. Parrish now watched. It was not the same as when the clay dolls helped with his garden. To some degree, he found it enjoyable, even fun, watching the clay dolls and horses help care for his precious tea garden but, for some reason, he could not find a similar joy with the clock. He took a deep breath, dropped the spell, and then made his way to his warehouse where he spent the rest of the day amongst his artifacts and memories.

The following day he felt a bit better. He did his usual daily activities and chores. He was in the middle of washing his lunch dishes, with the aid of some water spirits, when a sudden fast and loud knocking came to his door. Mr. Parrish turned to the sound and frowned. When he opened the door, Bonnie and Jasper were on the other side; their expressions tired and worried.

"Is Jan here?" asked Jasper

Jasper's voice was slightly out of breath. Bonnie marched her way past Mr. Parrish and into the house.

"Jan!?" She shouted.

"What in the hells is going on?" asked Mr. Parrish.

"Teacher, is he here? Have you seen him?" Jasper continued.

Bonnie continued her search, checking the kitchen before heading upstairs. A flash of recognition crossed Mr. Parrish's face.

"Have you tried the park?" he replied.

"Yeah. We've searched everywhere in the town and nothing." Jasper replied.

"Well then you haven't searched everywhere now have you?"

"Not now, Teacher."

"When did you find out he was gone?"

"This morning."

"He couldn't have gone too far then. What about outside of town?"

"What?"

"You said you looked everywhere in town. What about out? The forest past the park or across the river?"

"You don't think he would go in there do you?"

"Knowing that boy? Yes."

"Ok. Ok. Let's give it a try. I'll go north. Bon will go south."

"I'll go to the west then." Mr. Parrish added.

"What if he went east?" Asked Bonnie as she came down the stairs.

"Then at least we'll know what direction to go." replied Mr. Parrish.

"What about Figgy? Can't he help?" asked Bonnie.

"Figgy is useless right now. His wing still hasn't grown back and he recently did something that only made it worse?"

"What happened?" asked Jasper.

"Nevermind that. Now let's get going. The longer we wait the further Jan might get."

Bonnie whispered into a feather she had and flew south while Jasper whispered into rock and rode a boulder North. Mr. Parrish caught a piece of wind and allowed it carry him until the forest entrance at the west end of the park. As he walked through the park, he paid his usual respects to the grave of the forest king before a familiar face walking along the main road caught his attention. It was Barneby. He was carrying a large overstuffed backpack with a tightly latched bedroll on top. Mr. Parrish shouted as he made his way toward him.

"Barneby!"

Barneby turned toward the voice, half smiled, and waved at Mr. Parrish.

"I didn't see you at the shop." said Mr. Parrish.

"Yeah. They let me go."

"Because of my custom orders apparently."

"How did you know that?"

"Anybody with a brain could figure that out, Barneby."

Barneby shrugged.

"Anyway, I think it's for the better."

"Do you? I thought you'd be upset with me."

"Nope. Things were getting a bit stagnant. It felt like I wasn't going anywhere or doing anything, you know?"

Mr. Parrish gestured to Barneby's backpack.

"And I take it that that has something to do with what you're talking about?"

"Full of everything I own. I don't have much and I thought it would be great to have an adventure along the way."

"Adventure?"

With a smile, Barneby replied.

"I'm heading to the capitol to join the treasure hunter's guild." he said.

Mr. Parrish frowned.

"What are you talking about, Barneby? You make clocks. Treasure hunters, adventurers, or anything of the sort is a big difference. And dangerous."

"Maybe."

"No. Not maybe. It is dangerous, Barneby."

"Then I'll learn. And even if things don't turn out the way I plan. Well. At least I can say I tried. And then maybe I'll open my own clock store then."

"Unless you die. Did that ever cross your mind?"

"It did."

"And you're sure?" asked Mr. Parrish

"It's where my heart is taking me."

"Well, if that is the case, then I wish you the best of luck boy. And be careful."

"Thank you. You know what, Mr. Parrish? There is a part of me that will miss this place. You included."

Mr. Parrish replied with a half smile of his own.

"It's a shame you won't be around anymore." He said.

"Well, I better be heading off before it gets too late."

"Right. Good luck out there boy."

"Until next we meet, Mr. Parrish."

"Oh, by the way Barneby. Have you seen a small boy wandering around? Short curly brownish hair, looks annoying."

"Earlier I saw a boy with curly hair walking along the river behind me."

"Did you see where he went?"

Barneby shrugged.

"It looked like he was heading east?" He replied.

"I owe you, Barneby."

Mr. Parrish immediately began to head east toward the river while Barneby continued on with his journey.

When Mr. Parrish arrived at the river, he greeted it and then asked if it would allow him to cross over to the other side. At first, there was no reply, so he tried again and emphasized that he was looking for someone and in a hurry. There was a faint laughter hidden within the sound of the rapidly flowing water. Mr. Parrish gritted his teeth in annoyance and so proceeded to enlarge a blade of grass, creating his own bridge to the other side. When the river began to roar with complaints, Mr. Parrish simply shouted back that he did mention that he was in a hurry.

He then made his way past the treeline and into the forest where he began to argue with a few trees on whether or not humans look the same and who actually saw Jan. A cacophony of rumblings and shaking branches filled the forest as they all argued. One tree, though, did have a good enough sense of detail to know who Mr. Parrish was talking about. It was still a sapling by their standards, roughly half the size of the other trees. After Mr. Parrish pleaded, and at one point nearly threatened the tree, it gave Mr. Parrish the direction in which Jan went.

Mr. Parrish then thanked the tree then picked up a fallen leaf from the ground. He wiped both sides of it on his coat and then whispered into it before popping it into his mouth like a piece of candy. His face scrunched a little at the bitter taste. It was not exactly one of his favorite spells to cast, but, given the situation, it seemed necessary if he wanted to find Jan quickly. In little more than a second, Mr. Parrish became near weightless and began to push himself in the direction that he was told. He maneuvered around trees, boulders, and ditches as he sped through the forest until he arrived at a cave at the base of a mountain.

The entrance was big, large enough for an elephant to squeeze through, and it was covered in tiny shrubs and moss that seemed to spill out of the cave and meld into the surrounding vegetation. Mr. Parrish took a moment to catch his breath before he journeyed inside, carefully stepping among the damp rocks and moss. There was barely any light, and the sound of water dripping from somewhere in the cave echoed. As Mr. Parrish silently continued forward, he could hear faint grunts coming from deeper within the cave.

After a couple minutes, he soon arrived at a large oval shaped chamber full of stalagmites and crumbled boulders. Vibrant hues of orange and yellow painted the layered rock walls as a fire burned in the center of the chamber. Dozens of small metal marbles were scattered across the ground and, next to the fire, mumbling and grunting in frustration as he threw more metal marbles at a few stalagmites, was Jan. Curious, Mr. Parrish watched as Jan reached into a small satchel and produced, what Mr. Parrish guessed was, another marble. Jan held it in the palm of his hand and stared at it. After a moment it began to faintly glow and rise from his hand before Jan gritted his teeth, clenched it in his fist, and threw it at the stalagmite.

"You're not going to accomplish much doing that, boy."

Jan jumped in surprise and his eyes widened when he saw Mr. Parrish.

"Mr. Parrish? How did you find me?"

"You know, you should try insulting it too. Those things are sturdy. If you're going to throw marbles at it then you might as well hurt its feelings as well."

Jan frowned and pulled out another marble from his satchel.

"C'mon. I'm taking you home."

"You go. Tell my mom and dad that I'm fine and that I'll be back when I'm done."

"Can't do that kiddo. I show up and say that and they'll set me on fire. What are you doing anyway?"

"Practicing."

"Practicing what? Staring at a marble?"

"I made one of my marbles move without using spirit magic. I'm trying to do it again, but the stupid spirit magic keeps happening."

Mr. Parrish raised his eyes in surprise.

"You're doing it without any words of power?"

"Will you just leave me alone and let me do this?"

Mr. Parrish rubbed his scruffy beard and then the palm of his left hand.

"What's really going on, boy? You used to bug me all the time to teach you magic and now all of a sudden you can't stand it?"

"You…You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, forgive my overwhelming ignorance of life." said Mr. Parrish sarcastically.

"I… I can't sleep."

"That's it? You ran away from home, hid in a cave, worried your parents to death, and dragged me out here all because you can't sleep? I have teas for that, boy!"

"You don't get it!"

"What don't I get?"

"It's because of your stupid spirits that I can't sleep."

"The spirits don't stop you from sleeping, boy! For crying out loud, did your brain shrink to the size of that marble?"

"Well maybe I wouldn't be like this if it wasn't for you or my parents."

"Don't go blaming me for your stupidity and faults, boy."

"I can! All I ever wanted was for you to teach me. All you did was push me away and all my parents would say was to read their stupid books."

"If you paid attention you'd know that those are books and notes that I had your parents write and read when I taught them, you idiot!"

"Just shut up and leave me alone like you always do."

"No. You're going to pick up your marbles and you're going home if I have to drag you back."

"Go away!" screamed Jan

Mr. Parrish barely felt the marbles hit him. It was as if he had been struck by several pebbles or pieces of hail. As Jan screamed, several of the marbles on the ground shot forward and pierced through Mr. Parrish as if he were paper. He began to wince as he slowly felt the pain from where the marbles had struck him followed by a warmth that slowly spread across his body. When Mr. Parrish looked down, there were dark spots stretching and expanding across his robe. When he touched one, his hand was a wet dark crimson in the fire light. His legs slowly gave in to the weight of his body until he finally fell to his knees, clutching at couple of the injuries. As his blood began to pool under him, Jan rushed over, a horrified expression on his face.

"Mr. Parrish, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. The marble just… It just."

"Yeah, you got me pretty good." grunted Mr. Parrish.

"I… I don't know what to do. What do I do? You have to tell me what to do."

"First, I need you to calm down. I'm sure you didn't mean to. Take a deep breath."

Jan nodded.

"Ok. Ok."

Jan began to breathe as instructed. When he calmed down, Mr. Parrish told Jan to go to his home and enter his warehouse to find a jar of leaves. He then told Jan the combination on the wall and not to forget it or Jan too could die, and Mr. Parrish did not want that on his conscience. Lastly, he told Jan exactly where in his warehouse he could find the leaves and where to find the key to the lock that kept the leaves safe.

"I can't remember all of that. I'm"

"Well, you're going to have to, boy. Or else I die. So no pressure."

"But"

"Jan, The longer you sit here the more blood I lose. So hurry. Go on."

Jan quickly nodded and sprinted out of the cave.

Slowly, Mr. Parrish crawled to a nearby stalagmite before resting his back against it. While he winced, he did not grunt from the pain. Already, he could feel the cold ground become warmer from his blood. As time passed, Mr. Parrish's body started to go numb and his vision steadily became more blurry. So, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing.

Seconds started to feel like minutes. He began to wonder if he was actually going to die. Thoughts of Jan idly going home and not telling anyone crawled through his mind. After all, Children often lied when they did not want to get in trouble. He began to imagine his former pupils, people he practically raised from birth, and the looks of betrayal and anger on their faces when Mr. Parrish would not be there to say goodbye as they leave for the capitol. Neither would wonder why he was not there nor worry as to what happened to him. They would only focus on the anger. That was how people were and, despite his teachings, his pupils were no different. His thoughts then turned to the people that branded him a mad man when he tried to share the secrets of magic and the connection to the spirits. He could see the faces of those that called him evil when his beloved Melodie, the forest king, even the sun spirit had made their sacrifices just to keep him and them safe. And then he thought about how interesting, ironic, and cruel life could be that the once grand spirit mage and Baron of the Bloodless Theodore Parrish was now an old man about to die due to the actions of a single child. And how he would die the same way his efforts had gone; in the dark, unknown, and ultimately without anyone. A part of him could not help but chuckle at the dark humor behind it.

"Are you sure you want to die here?" said a light soothing voice.

Mr. Parrish forced opened his heavy eyes and saw a young man sitting on the ground in front of him. His skin was a golden bronze and his hair was the color of sunlight in the summer. His eyes were intense and burned like fire, but he wore a playful smile; the kind that could melt away anyone's fears or worries.

"What are you doing here?" asked Mr. Parrish.

That sun spirit did not answer. He simply continued to smile.

"Nothing? Just going to keep staring at me while I die huh?"

"You won't, Theo."

"No, I think I'm done this time."

"127" replied the sun spirit, "127 times you've said that to me. And yet you're here."

"Yeah, here I am dying."

"Do you want to know how many times you've told me that too and still survived?"

"Who cares how many times I've said what? It's been years since I've seen you and you just show up out of nowhere and all you have to say to me is that!?"

"I care, Theo. I've always cared."

"Apparently the only thing you care about is being an idiot!", Mr. Parrish shouted, "Did you not hear anything I just said!? By the heavens, you used to actually have a brain. I remember you caring about things that were important and not dumbass things like how many times I've said something. I remember you being useful and doing things like stopping people from dying!"

"Theo"

Mr. Parrish nearly screamed with all his remaining strength.

"You left me! You all left me!"

The sun spirit's smile, both warm and comforting, was now one of sadness and regret.

"I'm sorry, Theo."

"It doesn't matter now. None of it matters anymore. I can finally be at peace. And the world can burn for all I care."

"You know what I remember? I remember a time when you felt the warmth of the sun, just because you wanted to. Not because it would change anything. I remember when a farmer asked you for rain and you made water pour from the heavens because you enjoyed doing it. I remember when you did magic because it made you happy. Since when did the faults of others distort your passions?"

Mr. Parrish did not answer.

"When was the last time you did magic just because you enjoyed it, Theo?"

Mr. Parrish thought of his tea garden and of the clay dolls and water horses he created. He thought of the wind spirits that helped him clean the house and even aided him in building his clock. Mr. Parrish 's eyes began to water as he looked up at the ceiling and let out a sigh.

"I'm still dying, you know."

"321" replied the sun spirit

His smile returned to the bright and cheerful one from earlier. Then, the sun spirit stood up and began to walk toward the entrance of the cave.

"Come on, Theo."

"What are you doing?"

The sun spirit waved a hand.

"Come on." he repeated.

"Wait! I said wait, dammit! Don't leave!" Mr. Parrish shouted.

Slowly and desperately, Mr. Parrish crawled and shouted after his old friend, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He did not care how much blood he had lost, nor did he care about the rocks on the ground that ripped and scraped his robes and hand. There were only a handful of individuals that Mr. Parrish cared for and he was not about to let one of them go a second time. The darkness of the cave began to brighten as he inched toward the entrance. He could barely see his old friend as his eyes squinted. As he emerged from the cave and into the warm golden light of an afternoon sun, he felt his strength disappear and his vision fade to black as he stared at the smiling face of his old friend.

When Mr. Parrish awoke, he was in his own bed being nursed back to health again by Bonnie and Jasper. Mr. Parrish asked where the sun spirit had gone and was immediately met with a slap to the face followed by the loudest scolding Bonnie could give. They argued on how reckless Mr. Parrish's actions were while Jasper fought against Mr. Parrish's struggling when attempting to change his clothing. When the shouting had ceased and tempers had cooled, they explained that Jan could not remember how to open his warehouse and instead searched for them. Mr. Parrish let out a sigh and went back to lying down. He was not surprised by that. Though, a part of him did feel a sense of guilt. He felt guilty that he thought that Jan or his former pupils would leave him to die. And that his first thoughts when waking were of his old friend instead of thanking his former pupils for saving him. After Bonnie and Jasper made sure that Mr. Parrish was going to be fine, they left medicinal paste by Mr. Parrish's bedside and began to pack what things they had before making their way to the front door.

"Don't do anything stupid you hear me? Otherwise you'll reopen your wound." said Bonnie.

"Yeah yeah I heard you." replied Mr. Parrish.

"Don't 'yeah yeah' me, old man. This is the second time in a week I've had to treat you. I want you to say you won't do anything stupid."

"I heard you the first time, Bon."

"Say it." she demanded.

"Fine."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well?"

"I just said it, girl, what more do you want from me?"

"All you said was 'fine'. How is that telling me you're not going to do anything?"

With a smile, Jasper walked forward and placed a hand on Bonnie's shoulder.

"Well, it looks like you're definitely back to yourself, teacher. We'll leave you be then." Jasper said.

Bonnie glared at Mr. Parrish before letting out a sigh and exiting the room.

"Jasper."

Jasper turned.

"You're sure you didn't see anyone?"

"Just you, teacher."

Mr. Parrish nodded and walked them to the front door. Jasper exited first while Bonnie stopped in the doorway.

"We're almost done packing you know?" said Bonnie.

"When?"

"Two days."

"Okay." said Mr. Parrish.

Bonnie exited and Mr. Parrish closed the door.

The next day, Mr. Parrish stayed in. He spent most of his day wandering his warehouse gazing upon and reminiscing about the many things on the shelves or in containers. He and Figgy ate dinner together in silence before he finished the day with a cup of regular black tea. It was bland and not at all to his liking, but he drank it anyway.

The following day, Mr. Parrish made his way to Jan's home. When he arrived, there were a couple horses connected to a wagon by leather straps. Bonnie was tending to the horses, making sure they were fed and watered, while Jasper was loading the wagon with crates and boxes.

"It's a long way to the capitol." said Mr. Parrish as he walked up the driveway, "You better make sure to keep the horses in good health."

"This isn't the first time I've tended horses, you know?" replied Bonnie.

"I know. I'm just. You know."

"I know."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"We talked it over," said Bonnie.

"You want to tell me what about?"

"I'm getting to that. When Jan is not in school, if you wanted to maybe tutor him on the side or maybe just visit, we wouldn't be exactly opposed to that."

"I don't know how much good that will do considering what dribble those instructors tell him."

Bonnie shot him a glare and Mr. Parrish held up a hand.

"But, I wouldn't exactly mind doing so either."

Bonnie let out a sigh and turned her attention back to the horses.

"Speaking of Jan." said Mr. Parrish.

"He is in his room packing up the last of his things." Bonnie replied.

"I suppose I should say something to him as well."

"I think that's a good idea."

As Mr. Parrish walked to the back of the wagon, Jasper called out to him.

"I have to admit, I'm a little surprised that you're here." Jasper said.

"And why is that?" asked Mr. Parrish.

Jasper was in the process of loading some crates into the wagon. He shook and shuffled the crates ensuring the best possible fit and that they were all perfectly clumped together so that nothing would fall or get damaged.

"Well, you know, I figured after everything that has gone on in the past few days you'd maybe want to be alone." said Jasper.

"You know, maybe while you're in the capitol you might want to fix some of that stupidity. Even though I still don't agree with what you're doing, of course I'd at least see you off."

Jasper nodded.

"Thank you, Teacher. And also, thank you for not being too hard on Jan for what he did."

Mr. Parrish held up a hand.

"Are you kidding me? You and Bon put me through worse than that."

"Still, I appreciate it. He's taking it pretty hard."

"Speaking of which. It's going to be tough for you and Bon you know?"

"I know."

"Just make sure you don't get caught up in their schemes or conspiracies or the otherwise stupid under handed methods of politics."

"No favors and accept nothing for free." said Jasper.

"Well, at least you remember some of the things I taught you."

Jasper smiled. Mr. Parrish placed a hand on Jasper's shoulder before making his way into the house.

He then made his way up the stairs and into Jan's room. It was mostly empty, save for a few boxes here and there. Jan was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Parrish stepped outside of the room and searched the bathroom and the hallway before calling out to Jan.

"Over here!" came a voice from the room.

Mr. Parrish went back into the room but found no one inside.

"Where are you boy!?" shouted Mr. Parrish.

"The window."

Mr Parrish walked to the window. He saw Bonnie and Jasper still tending to the wagon and horses, but still did not see Jan.

"Where?"

"Up here." came Jan's voice from the rooftop.

"What in the hells are doing up there boy?"

There was no reply.

"Get down from there before you fall. And how did you get up there anyway?"

Jan still did not reply.

"Will you get down from there? I got something to say."

After a moment, Mr. Parrish let out a sigh and then knocked on the wood of the window sill. He whispered a word and the wood began to shape into stairs leading to the roof. When Mr. Parrish reached the top, Jan was sitting at the highest point on the roof staring out toward the forest. Mr. Parrish sat down next to Jan.

"The view up here isn't half bad." said Mr. Parrish.

"This was my favorite spot. You can see so much from here. How big the forest actually is."

"I could have told you that."

"Yeah, but it's different when you actually see it."

"You know, if you really wanted to see how big it was I could have showed you?"

"How?"

"Well, we could travel through it really fast."

Jan frowned.

"Spirit magic?"

"Real magic." Mr. Parrish replied.

"You don't need the spirits to do magic."

"No. No, you don't. But it's only with spirit magic that you can truly do great things. Something that you reminded me of."

"What did I do?"

"You constantly annoyed me until I started to remember to enjoy magic again."

"You don't have to worry about that anymore. I won't be here so you don't have to worry about teaching me spirit magic."

"Actually, your parents asked me to tutor you when you're not in school."

"Well, I don't want to use it anymore. Nothing good has happened since I've been using it."

"That's what learning is about, boy. You make mistakes, you learn from them, and then you move on."

"How can you say that? Because of me and the stupid spirit magic you."

Jan stopped himself from finishing his sentence.

"You don't have to worry about that."

"How can I not?" asked Jan.

"For one, I'm not. So if I'm not, then you don't need to. Second, you didn't mean to. Or at least I hope so. Accidents happen and things turned out ok. Learn from it. Lastly, it's mostly my and your parents' fault. Maybe if we did things better it wouldn't have ended up this way."

For a moment they both sat in silence before Mr. Parrish whispered a word, reached out his hand toward the sky, and scooped out a chunk of clouds. He lowered his hand, revealing a thick bundle of white cotton candy like fluff that he then placed in his lap. He plucked some of the fluff and popped it into his mouth before offering some to Jan.

"You really should try some."

Jan followed suit and they spent the rest of their time in silence eating the fluff until Bonnie called out to them. After they had gotten down, Mr. Parrish helped them load the last of the crates in the wagon with a concentrated gust of wind.

"Don't wait too long before you visit alright?" said Bonnie.

"I won't."

There was an awkward pause before Bonnie embraced Mr. Parrish in a hug and then climbed up into the wagon.

"Take care of yourself in the meantime, Teacher." said Jasper.

"You know, now would be a good time to get rid of that portrait." replied Mr. Parrish.

Jasper also embraced Mr. Parrish in a hug.

"Never." said Jasper as he pulled away.

Mr. Parrish raised a hand in goodbye as he watched them set off for the capitol. When they were no longer in sight, he began his walk back home.

After Mr. Parrish had arrived, he decided to tend to his tea garden. It was already much later than when he usually tended to it, and, at the very least, he wanted to check if there were any new plants for him to turn into tea. He stepped into the garden through the back door and walked the pebbled path observing and checking the many plants. He could not help but feel a bit disappointed when he found that he had no such luck in discovering anything new. He did notice though, that after using spirit magic the other day, he found the plants to be more vibrant, and that the dirt seemed cleaner, and that somehow the air tasted better. It was almost as if the plants were already steeping in water and subtly flavoring the air. Despite his disappointment, it was comforting, in a way, and it brought a smile to his face.

Since there were no developments, he decided to mix some of the teas as he had done many times before. He thought about what to mix, all the possible combinations, and what new combination he could try before he found himself wondering what would happen if he combined his teas with some of his herbs or spices. Curious, he plucked a few leaves from several different plants and made his way to his kitchen where he began to combine and brew them with several different herbs and spices from his cupboards. Many of them became what Mr. Parrish was sure to be some new form of poison while he made note of others that seemed to have potential, but were lacking just a bit more to be actually drinkable. He also made a mental note to revisit these recipes in the future. In the end, it was a simple combination of black tea, vanilla, and sugar that he found to be perfect. It was around noon when finished brewing a full pot of his newly created tea. The kitchen was now rich with the scent of vanilla mixed with a herbal undertone of black tea. Mr. Parrish smiled and then decided that it was time to get some work done.

He grabbed the pot of his newest tea, while simultaneously grabbing a tea cup with a finger, and walked upstairs to his workshop where Figgy was still sleeping on the chair. He sat down at his desk, poured himself a cup of tea, and, with the help of a little wind spirit magic, began working on his clock. The remaining gears were filed to perfect angles, all parts fit perfectly together, and without Jan's interruptions or anything else to distract him, progress was made quickly. In just a few hours it was finished. Mr. Parrish then took the wind up key that Jan had given back to him rather than the golden double that he received from the ticking teeth, inserted it into a slot just under the face of the clock, and twisted it. With each turn of the key he heard the gears click and turn and he could feel the tension building in the springs as it became harder to turn the key. When he stopped, he heard the first ticks and watched the gears turn as the clock came to life. Gently, he picked it up off the desk. The gold and silver gleamed in the gentle sunset light that filtered into his workshop. He placed the clock on an empty spot on the wall near the door. He listened to the ticks and watched as the minute hand jerked forward, but, for some reason, he did not feel any joy in it. He did not find it as beautiful as he thought he would. He was expecting a greater feeling of accomplishment and pride, but as he looked at it, all he saw was just another clock. He stared at it for a few moments in silence, thinking of nothing in particular before he grabbed his empty pot of vanilla bean tea and went to bed.

The next day Mr. Parrish went for a walk and spent most of his time in the forest just past the park where he came across a group of children playing knights and demons. The day after that he cleaned the house and even found a few of the missing pieces to his clock that he dropped when Jan set his workshop on fire. And the day after that he tried to finish his tea experiments, but gave up when he was both low on spices and tired of tasting failed combinations. After that, Mr. Parrish made more vanilla bean tea, which he was sure was now his new favorite, and sat in his desk chair glancing about his workshop in silence until his eyes came to rest upon his recent creation that hung on the wall. It was still working perfectly and it gleamed even brighter in the morning light.

"Figgy? Are you in here?"

"Hmm?" came a reply from somewhere in the room.

"Has your wing grown back yet?"

There was a pause before Figgy replied.

"It's a bit better. It's gotten a little bigger. Feels a little stronger too."

"And you haven't been doing anything stupid right?"

"The only thing stupid is that you won't use magic to help."

"We've been through this. You know there are consequences when you rely too much on magic."

"Yeah yeah." said Figgy.

There was a long silence as Mr. Parrish stared at the clock on the wall and then at the vanilla tea in his hand.

"Figgy. What would you say to one final adventure?

There was another long pause.

"What are you talking about, Parrish?"

"Things really are changing, Figgy. Times are changing. Did you know that when I went looking for Jan or even when I went for a walk the other day that I did not see a single pixie?"

Figgy said nothing and Mr. Parrish continued.

"I remember when the wolf kin used to nest just down the river. The forest king wandered the western side and there was even a talking pumpkin that named itself Log. And now it's just quite."

Figgy stepped out of the shadows from the back corner of the room.

"Yeah. I remember the pumpkin." He said.

"That's right!" Mr. Parrish exclaimed, "You were there."

"I was there."

Mr. Parrish nodded.

"Maybe it's time we move on huh?"

"What do you mean?"asked Figgy.

Mr. Parrish looked down at his tea.

"Maybe this isn't a world where we belong anymore. But what if we make our own?"

"What?"

"We're going to create our own world, Figgy. One where the magic can flow freely. Where the spirits, the kin, us, all of us can live in harmony like we used to."

"And just how are we going to do that? My wing still hasn't grown back and your arm is still in bad shape."

"True, it won't be easy. Truthfully, we might not even finish. And we are definitely going to need some help from some old friends. But I think I'm up for the challenge. What about you?"

Figgy stared at Mr. Parrish and then looked at the floor. After a few seconds, he replied.

"Alright. I'm in. When do we leave?"

Mr. Parrish smiled.

"Right now," He said.

Mr. Parrish set down his cup of tea while Figgy climbed onto his shoulder and the two of them made their way to the warehouse. Mr. Parrish grabbed a large coffee colored leather satchel and began to pack various vials and small boxes. They argued a few times on what sort of supplies and components were more important or necessary for their journey, but within an hour they finished packing and made their way outside. Mr. Parrish produced an old cocoon from his satchel, whispered a word of power, and watched as the house, and the chunk of land that held his garden, shrunk and was sucked into the cocoon before he carefully placed it in his stachel.

"Parrish." said Figgy.

"Yeah?"

"You sure about this?"

"Aren't you the one that's been wanting to get out of the house for weeks now?"

"We've never made a world before. And we're not in the best shape for something like this. We can really die. Not to mention I don't think some of the others are going to be happy seeing you again."

"You're right. And that's why I said it was going to be our last. We might die, but a reason like that never stopped us before. But more importantly, let's try to not think about what can go wrong and instead think about what can go right."

Figgy nodded.

"Besides, it's a bit too late now." Mr. Parrish added.

The two of them headed east and crossed the river. This time, the water created a bridge for him without a spell or with any convincing. Mr. Parrish smiled and somehow he could tell that the water spirits were smiling back. He took a deep breath of fresh air and then, he and Figgy, made their way into the forest.