A black eagle with eyes like rubies descended upon the village.

Its arrival was noiseless, yet its presence was noted in intrigue by all who gazed upon its dark figure. The eagle expertly folded its wings and dived toward the damp and dirty paths and wary inhabitants. Golden talons outstretched to claw at the air and feel for any rain on the late summer wind. The rush of air tousled its glossy, black feathers as it continued to dive closer and closer to the ground. It let out a screech of intimidation at a child not too far from its destination. All at once, it flapped its powerful wings and landed to strut among astonished village folk. Its ugly little head bobbed this way and that, peering at those who found it curious. The claws scraped into the mud as it tottered its way around between the villagers' legs.

"The dark wizard," a beer-brewer whispered gruffly to his apprentice. "The black eagle is his familiar. It always comes before he does. Be on your guard for mischief." The boy nodded in return and averted his gaze from the bird, which took interest in the conversation. It hobbled over to the barrels of beer and screeched.

The beer-brewer's eyes grew wide. "Pour 'im a mug of beer," he told the apprentice. "If the eagle's happy, the wizard will have one less reason to curse the village.

The apprentice did as he was told. He held a sizeable glass mug under the tap and filled it to the brim with bubbling beer. The eagle hopped to where the mug was set on the ground. It ruffled its feathers and studied the drink. Seeing it as an offer of good will, the eagle threw its head down into the barm. The menacing beak pecked and slurped enormous gulps. The bird threw its head back to swallow with a satisfied gleam in its ruby eyes. After consuming half the mug, it hobbled on drunkenly toward the edge of town and flew deep into the forest.

Familiar. They still think the eagle is the familiar. Don't they know how awesome that eagle is? Well, I suppose it just adds to the intrigue. But what about "dark wizard?" Awesome wizard. Awesome wizard who entertains himself with awesome little spells that unawesome people don't think are funny. Mm, that beer was good. I'll have to buy some for Lud and me. It's better than the stuff back home. The scrambled thoughts rumbled through the vile bird's head as it searched in and around trees. A black and blue robe was hidden somewhere, but such inconsequentially regarded facts as to where it was hidden could only frustrate it further. Its newly drunken body swayed and faltered as it tried to maintain a steady height above the ground. Once or twice it almost crashed into the greenery.

A glitter caught the bird's eye. It landed and tugged on a soft square of fabric in a hollowed tree. It pulled and pulled until the whole robe had emerged and lay ragged on the ground. The eagle's head twitched, and its eyes darted to and fro to see any possible witnesses to its presence. Noting none, the eagle stretched its wings to the sky, and with a gruesome crackling of bones, began to transform.

Its torso grew long and slender. Feathers withered and dissipated to reveal horribly pale skin stretched thin over the bones. The wing-bones thickened and bent while the ends grew into gnarled, bony fingers, each tipped with a claw of a nail. The feathers of its head turned wispy and thinned to snowy white hair that fell into the ruby eyes. Talons shortened. Scaly feet grew broad and flat. Everywhere sinews stretched and muscles swelled and rearranged. The golden beak softened and reshaped into a pointed nose and raw, scarred lips. The eagle's tail shriveled and soon ceased to exist. What once stood as the familiar to the wizard was now the wizard Gilbert himself.

He was not a wand-wielding human, as some insisted he was, and he was not of the fair folk, known for their proficiency in the magical arts. At least, Gilbert was not of the fair folk kindly acknowledged. He was a shapeshifting fairy of darkness, known to the commoners as a changeling. His kind, unfortunately, was ruthless for taking the children of good-natured men and swapping them out with their own, as changeling children were always born deathly ill and horrible to gaze upon. Even as adults, they were hideous creatures when they did not emulate the forms of others. Gilbert was no exception to this grave rule. He was inexorably gaunt and ghostly pale with mangled fangs and blood-red eyes of haunting depth. His dreadfully long, pointed ears twitched in the silence, and he licked his lips out of habit. The stench of beer was rank on his breath.

After pulling the robe on over his featherless nudity, he grasped the hood and threw it over his face to hide his features. Even here in the wilds of the land called Volkerburg, changelings were in danger if they revealed their true selves. Gilbert had been told too many times to simply disguise himself as a villager if he wanted to find merchants, but of course, he was too awesome for lying. Today was a day for the "dark wizard" to remind these people he existed.

Gilbert entered the village with no great announcement of his presence, though it was next to impossible not to give some sort of sign. After all, they were whispering his name and spouting off about curses and arcane magical intrigue. He shuffled along just a little bit faster to get to the other side of the village. It was then, he realized, that it would've probably been smarter to hide his clothing on this side of the village, rather than the far side. However, he had to shrug it off, seeing instead that with the way it had happened, he had gotten to spend more time in his eagle form. It was his favorite, and so reliable for travelling.

"He never shows his face," a woman explained to her daughter. The young girl clutched her mother's chest for protection.

"Is he ugly?"

"No one knows," the woman hastily replied, seeing as Gilbert was in range of hearing them.

"If you saw my awesome face, you'd be so impressed, you'd stand still forever," the wizard remarked. Gilbert grinned under his hood. He had an affinity for cute things, and cute little questions always received answers.

There were days when Gilbert was especially enthralled by instilling fear into the scattered villages. He had learned the tricks of widespread infamy in the shadow of learning how to hide his changeling tendencies. Rumors had their truths. Gilbert was a frequent beguiler, but the stories spreading from tavern to tavern were often exaggerated. His wiles were usually nothing more than enchanting people with his flute until they saw themselves as jaunty little birds. He would watch them scamper around and peck seeds and chirp to the point of hot tears gracing his cheeks. He could create such silliness that by midnight he could walk among them as an ugly, red-eyed fairy, and none would judge him differently.

Gilbert had once been fond of real curses. His changeling body was naturally adept with the darker, high-energy magicks, and his recklessness was uncontrollable. In his youth, he had rejected every thought of being in the place of a cherished child. He found it much more amusing to mess with them as playful payback for chasing him away and threatening to beat him if he came too near. It was a game to Gilbert. He stole books, taught himself to read, and studied the ways of fairy magic to better his brutish deeds. In his frequent terrors, he'd even found a name for himself in "dark wizard." No one knew changelings had respectable names like Gilbert. No one could possibly assume one of them had become a successful magic-user outside of a knack for imitation.

Thus, Gilbert had built up the walls of his notorious reputation on his love of troublemaking.

In the present, however, the idea of cursing the common folk was an uneasy notion. A certain incident in the recent past changed his mind about attacking anyone he had no history with. Gilbert had not lain harmful spells on the innocent since then. It was a truly dreadful night when he finally witnessed the damage such magic could cause.

On this particular day, Gilbert had no real plans for cursing anyone at any caliber, though he made mental notes on who seemed the most worthy for the next time he visited this part of the country. There were certain times of the year when special merchants appeared, bearing strange and curious items. Some of them could be of magical use, and some were rare and profitable. One could never tell exactly what a merchant would bring.

Gilbert could always use some new thing to lighten up the room or provide himself an opportunity to wipe the dust off of a small treasure when cleaning. The swollen pockets of his robe clinked with a large number of coins. His brother Ludwig always reprimanded him for spending so much with these merchants. Swindlers, he'd called them.

He was reaching another edge of the village now, and the scent of rare teas caught his attention. Just off to the right of the road was a cart with a horse, and next to them a rather stubborn-looking human with spiked blond hair and a scar adorning his forehead. He sat against a tree, not noticing the wizard and the sound of money. A small rabbit had made a nest in his lap, and he stroked it unmindfully.

"Hey!" Gilbert called out. The merchant ignored him and continued to stare into the foliage.

"Hey, I have money!"

"How much?" The merchant asked without turning his head.

"I'm a wizard. I have lots."

"You don't sound like Basch."

"Wizard Basch? No, I'm the dark wizard Gilbert! Gilbert the Great! The terror of Volkerburg! I am looking to buy from you, and if you don't comply, I will curse you with my awesome curses!"

"I'm not afraid of curses."

"I'll make it so you never sell anything again."

"Why waste your skills on a stranger? A spell that elaborate would take hours to work, and I haven't formally rejected you. It doesn't make sense, but for business purposes, I don't care."

The merchant, despite his attitude, set the rabbit in the grass and took the sheet off his cart. "If you have money, take a look," he said. "And if you don't find anything, I can recommend it to you. If you still don't like it, my sister is an excellent baker and sells her goods, too. If you decide to buy from her, I get ten percent commission because I recommended her. That will have to be paid upfront right here. I have never accepted payable accounts for anything."

"Do I have to pay you to ask what your name is?" Gilbert gruffly put as he rolled his eyes.

"I am called Tim," the merchant said. He took a pipe out and lit it. "I suppose you're into magic stuff. I have books, charms, amulets, healing stones, wands of various shapes and sizes, wards to keep the changelings away, potions, powders, you name it."

"All in that cart?"

"I have a lot of things in the cart. It's bigger on the inside than on the outside," Tim replied.

"What kinds of changeling wards are there?" Gilbert asked. He hid his bony hands in his pockets and made sure to keep his head down.

"Rumor has it they can't stand a pair of scissors. Blades make them anxious since they're so frail, and raw iron can burn their skin. Nails will scare them, too. Another thing is to give off a light magical frequency. Make it strong enough so they get a headache. It makes them crazy. They'll shriek, and for that I sell a charm that can silence them."

"Silence… as in…"

"Stop them from shrieking."

Gilbert let it all sink in. He intended to ask Tim more about his merchandise, but he always checked his facts. Warding with scissors did work. He remembered them sitting menacingly on bedside tables, and the very sight of them would make his skin crawl. A primal instinct made his body and the blades repel with strange, irrational fears.

"Do you have anything scary? I'm a dark wizard. I need to be intimidating."

"I have books of curses. The cart has uncountable volumes. If you have the money, I'll sell them to you."

"Sounds fun," Gilbert lied. He shuffled past Tim and finally got a look in the cart for himself. Books of curses would just be a waste of money. He already owned many volumes, and they gathered dust now that he had given up harmful cursing.

Curiously pushed to the top of the piles were all of the magical articles. The books were stacked neatly and sorted by content. The charms and amulets all hung from chains on hooks lined up in rows. The wands, he presumed, were what the polished wooden boxes contained. It all looked enticing. Tim was an experienced merchant. It would prove difficult to find things of this value elsewhere.

Gilbert was admiring the charms again when he got an idea. It was the wizard Basch who received the highest acclaim for infamy. He was so ruthless that he cursed anyone who trespassed onto his land with horrible, lasting effects. Naturally, Gilbert loathed such terrible prestige, especially when Basch had worked that power on Gilbert's emotions personally, just to show he was serious. He was not an awesome dark wizard. He was nothing but evil.

"What item of yours will make me the most impressive wizard in the land?" Gilbert inquired. He was no longer a true beguiler, but he enjoyed the notion of being known for his great magical abilities and feared more than a recluse like Basch.

"I'll sell you a wand if it's magical strength you're looking for. Some of these were once used by professional wizards, so they're well-made and tested with the strongest spells." Tim scooped up a few of the more ornate boxes and opened them to reveal silvery wands that sparkled in the afternoon light.

"Is that red box a wand, too?" Gilbert asked. He nodded to a polished box partially buried beneath some extra chains.

"It's a wand that doesn't work," Tim said flatly. "It's powerful, though." He picked the box up and opened it to reveal the wand inside. This one was made of shining red wood with a twisting, golden laurel branch engraved into the side. "I can sell it to you as a collector's item, but it's costly. There are some people I know who would kill for this wand."

"How powerful is it?"

"From what I understand, it's a dream wand from the kingdom of Allegria, and it's capable of both light and dark magic concentration. The wands don't work unless they're linked to a magical amulet called a sogno, which can grant the wishes of the holder, no matter how elaborate the request. Fairies don't need to use wands, but these were made as a fashion statement long, long ago for channeling the power of the sogni in a more aesthetic way. The wands also allowed people other than Allegrian fairies to use the sogni for their own interests, and for that reason, they were often stolen and misused. Neither is made anymore. This one was probably stolen some years ago."

"I'll buy the wand and the amulet," Gilbert said hastily. He reached into his pockets and brought out gold coins by the handful. An omnipotent amulet and wand was the end to his collecting. He was sure he could scour the world and never find anything as impressive as this prospect.

"I don't have the amulet. The ones that still exist are well-protected items because of their abilities. You'd have to sweet-talk an Allegrian fairy to get one, and he'd have to be rich. I will take that money from you, though." Tim clasped the box shut and handed it over to Gilbert.

Gilbert frowned under his hood. It was only half of the wondrous possession, and unfortunately, the lesser half. He supposed he could do what Tim had said and ask an Allegrian for the charm, but he was both a dark wizard and a changeling, and Allegrians were fairies of light. The matter easily settled itself, though, seeing as Tim was a very assertive merchant. This wand surely held enormous power when it was used with the amulet, and now it was in the hands of the most feared creature in the world.

"How much for it?"

"Empty your pockets."