The old wizard pulled back his hood and turned to close the mighty wooden door behind him. The wood was smooth where he placed his hand for more than a hundred winters. As the door closed, the latch slid into place with an audible click. D'Mari took the stairs two at a time as she bounded towards her teacher and pulled him into a big hug. “It's good to have you back,” he said. "It's good to be back, my child," the wizard replied. "I haven't been a child for three winters, old boy," D'Mari said, standing on tiptoe, a smile on her lightly tanned face. Approaching her fourteenth winter, D'Mari was determined to reach the First Pillar before her fifteenth and be the youngest in the kingdom to do so. "Unless you've found some magic I don't know about," Bob was saying, surprised by the sight. a loud knock on the door. It was loud enough to echo up the stairs and beyond. Immediately, the barriers and spells sprang to life, magically sealing the portal and preparing to withstand the greatest of assaults. “Bob, I need your wisdom and advice on an urgent matter,” a voice called from beyond the door. "A messenger's horse has returned without its rider and there is an arrow protruding from its left hindquarter. It was then followed by a carriage, two horses, without riders or passengers. Please," begged the man who called, "we need a hearing." Mari looked at her teacher, caught his slight nod, then placed the palm of her hand on the dark wooden door, still rough in the chosen spot. She wiggled her toes inside the soft leather boots, finding comfort in the presence of a smooth copper ring on her second toe. "Vren," he intoned softly and the wards dissipated and the locking latch slid back into the... center of the card... the runes came to life. It was the last thing D'Mari saw as darkness fell. Garlen cleared the dishes from his small dining table as he did every evening around sunset. His wife, Laneigh, put a kettle of water on the wood stove in the kitchen to make happy tea. The four-room cottage had a small kitchen, a comfortable living room with a small fireplace, a bedroom and a locked storage room. Garlen built the house while they were staying with the innkeeper about twenty winters ago. Subsequently, Garlen renovated the old mill and, after two years of effort, brought it back to its former glory. The local farmers of wheat, barley and stirge grass celebrated his return with a feast for the little village, no longer having to grind by hand or travel twenty leagues to reach the nearest mill. “Have some tea, my dear,” said Laneigh. to her husband, handing him a cup.