Bed time story

There once was a powerful wizard, who was well versed in the arts of summoning. Decades of training brought his art where no one ever reached. He had no equal in all the kingdom, and history had never registered any mention of the likes of him.

There was no shortage of tales about his deeds, it seemed that nothing in the world could resist his power. Kings would heed his council and shiver in fear of his wrath. Travellers would come from far away to get a glimpse of the wise man. Bards would brave untold dangers to get a first-hand peek at his exploits.

It was said that no feat of magic was too hard for him. He could turn a horse into a chicken, or a mighty dragon into an innocent sheep. He could turn water into wine, or stone into gold. He could summon out of thin air legendary creatures known only in tales. It was as if he could simply erase the line between will and truth, between imagination and reality, between fiction and actuality.

He could bring to life flesh puppets of theatre characters, and he would watch amused the people bewildered argue over their realness. He’d provide the best shows in the kingdom, re-enacting tales of bravery or legends from the old times. It seemed there was nothing he could not bring to life.

It was only natural, then, for him to master the opposite power. His weapon of choice to bring down his enemies was to unsummon them, and seal them in books or parchment. He would get dispose of a mighty beast by turning it into a drawing, he would rid a region of a cruel ruler by trapping him into scrolls.

But as all things, he grew old and his time soon came. But a wizard of his stature does not shudder before death. Evidently, he found a way to slay it as he had all his enemies before. It would be an extreme feat of magic, the pinnacle of his work, but what a fitting end for such a summoner. So in a last ground breaking feat of strength, he turned his world into a short story, and himself into a character.

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