Kathy pivoted as she released the chip of rock, watching it skip across the pond's surface at high speed, leaving a trail of little ringlets in its wake. Her rock didn't get too far, as she'd fudged the throw in her aggravation. She hated taking these walks alone, but she had promised herself she'd take them, even when Byron was gone on assignment.
They'd been living together for eight months when that blustery late October morning brought her to the pond to skip rocks, happy as clams. They had their spats, sure, but what couple didn't? Her major sore point was the way he occasionally shut down emotionally, making himself into a rigid automaton, running on auto-pilot. She understood why he did it, to keep his psychotic episodes at bay, but she had begged him to find some other solution. He balked every time, and his bullheadedness more than anything frustrated her.
Now, however, he was off in Des Moines, covering city political activities for a small statewide paper he worked for as a reporter. Her current malaise stemmed not from his absence, but from the fact that he'd been acting so strangely before taking off for the city. She worried that he would do something bizarre in public and get himself fired from the paper for being a crazy person.
Kathy picked up another rock and looked around to make sure she was alone. So assured, she crouched down and put her hand to the ground, her neck itching as she conjured the necessary magical energy to draw out a more suitable skipping stone from the soil. Like Byron had shortly after returning from Ether Plane, she had begun to notice the subtle changes in her own magic. All Awakened, he told her, eventually developed a natural affinity and control over one of the six primary forms of magic, augmenting their unique natural powers. His had been water and ice; hers, earthen magic. She had only been dabbling idly with it for about three months.
Practicing their abilities in Mortal Plane proved difficult, but the pair hadn't been able to access Ether Plane since returning home. Even Tigger noticed something amiss in this, though their feline companion seldom brought it up. The turtleshell cat spent most of his attention out the apartment window or on the television.
Kathy skipped her stone along, watched it jounce along the surface, and sat down with a sigh. The day was gray, unkind in its blustery winds, but she didn't mind. Her cell phone chirped, and she took it out of her purse to check her text message. It was from Byron, and just read, 'Coming home, story done.' Nothing more, nothing less, yet she sensed an urgency in it. She texted back, 'Everything okay?' His reply unnerved her- 'Not sure. Saw an elf down here.'
Kathy jumped to her feet and started home in a hurry. Faerie rarely crossed over into Mortal Plane, and never without a good reason. She was almost jogging by the time she was halfway home, her mind racing at the implications. Was Ether Plane accessible once more? Why would an elf come over and be out somewhere that an everyday citizen could spot them?
Kathy got to her building, power-walking through the parking lot, up the stairwell and down the landing fronting her apartment. With her magic so recently accessed, her senses were on high alert, so she felt the powerful presence waiting for her on the other side of her apartment's front door. She reached with one hand into her purse, her dragonbone dagger gripped tight, and with her other, unlocked and threw the door open.
Sitting in Byron's old brown recliner, heavy dark blue armor dented, scorched and torn open in a few places, Tigger purring contentedly in his lap, was Sir Daggeuro. He looked like hell warmed over, his fur ratty and graying around his ears and eyes, a savage, bloody gash dripping on his chain-armored left leg. His left hand, which he was using to pet Tigger, looked thicker, as did he overall, since last she'd seen him. And what was more, the sad smile he gave her made him look old.
"Kathy," he croaked, his voice dry. "Has it really been fifty years? You look great."