Chapter 1: It all starts with a wish

                The story begins as many do, once upon a time, but not in a far away land or any such nonsense.  No it began right here in Ireland, a realm full of magic and mystery, fairies and nymphs and dryads and sprites and many others who the human realm knows not of, for they are very clever and wise beings and calm only to those who are pure of heart, and earn their trust. And it began with a wish.
             An old man living in the town of Galway, Ireland was one such man. His name was Solomon Motou. Truly a wonderful man in his own right, always charming and helpful, and good-spirited and kind, but he was also very lonely, for he lived in a shop just outside of town, where he sold many beautiful things, with only the animals and a lovely black feline named Alastair for company, since his wife passed away from a sudden illness, leaving him with the promise that he would try and be happy without her. He did try and in many ways Solomon was happy, but he was still very lonely, for he and his wife had no children, and more than anything Solomon wanted a child or a grandchild in his old age, to ease the painful ache in his heart…

                Solomon smiled as he strolled down the cobbles stone paths of Galway, admiring the identical Victorian buildings that lines the streets, differ only in color. He carefully tucked the present wrapped in gold paper with a blue ribbon into his bag, as he approached the market place. As always the market bustled with life and people flooded the streets. Merchants bragged and displayed their good with enthusiasm, successfully commanding the attention of several shoppers, but Solomon wasn’t there to window shop.
                  At last he came upon what his destination: a medium, cream colored building with chocolate trim and shutters, and windows covering the lover half. Books flooded the window ready for display and above the windows and door hung a large white sigh, with the words” HAWKINS BOOKSTORE written in bright scarlet letters.
                  “Ah, good morning Solomon,” the elderly man at he bookstore desk smiled, when he heard the bell chime and his friend answered.
                  “Good morning to you too, Arthur,” Solomon greeted and retrieved the package from his bag. “Here it is; the necklace all wrapped and ready for Rebecca’s birthday.”
                  “Good thank you, she’ll be so delighted.” Arthur thanked and hid the box until his granddaughter returned, having already paid Solomon for the lovely gift.
             “She’s going to be eight, correct?”
             “Yes, she is, she’s very excited,”
             “You’re lucky Arthur; I give anything for a grandchild…”
             Before Arthur could answer the bell chimed again and someone else answered the bookstore. Solomon turned to see who it was and his eyes fell upon the most unique man Solomon’s aged violet eyes had ever seen. The man, who according to the whispers and gossip that was common among such cities, was a mage. He was clearly the His hair was by far the most unique thing about him. Unlike the normal reds, and blacks and sometimes blond or brown he was used to seeing, this man had, long straight locks of violet, falling tied back and falling gracefully past his shoulders and to his back in smooth amethyst lines. A large purple hat topped his head, casting a light shadow over his sapphire eyes glowing with the happiness of a kindred spirit. He wore more purple then anyone Solomon had ever seen, from his purple armor-like outfit, and his purple cloak, and hood darkening his hair. Purple was a fairy color and a powerful one, but the man was kind and rumors flew that many people came to him for help with situations they could not handle on their own. For when you had a problem, you would go to a friend or perhaps a doctor. If you had an impossible problem…well, then you needed a good witch, or in the case of Galway, a good mage.
               “Good morning Mr. Hawkins.” He greeted blithely.
               “Good morning, Master Mage, anything I can help you with?”
                The man chuckled. “How many times must I asked this town to call me by me name?” he chuckled rhetorically, “and I thank you for your kindness, but I simply wish to return the book I borrowed yesterday.”
Arthur’s eyes suddenly widened. “Finished already?”
               “I couldn’t put it down. I assume nothing new has arrived since yesterday?” the mage smiled.
               “I’m afraid not.”
               “I see,” he looked dishearten, but not at all surprised, as if he knew that would be the answer. “I bid you good day, Mr. Hawkins.” He bowed politely before leaving, the bell’s chime echoed as he left; his cloak flying behind him, like amethyst wings.
                Solomon blinked, baffled by the sudden scene. “Arthur who is that man?”
Arthur smiled and said “His name is Mahad. No one knows who he truly is or where he comes from, and he is, no doubt, strange but he has a rare gift.”
                “What kind of gift?” Solomon asked curiously.
                “He is a Magician, he grants wishes, performs magic that can not possibly be tricks for the children and he, according to the old folks, has been touched the by fairies. He never asks for anything in return for his services except for books, and never fails to warn a person to ‘be careful what the wish for’.” Arthur answered.
                 “Arthur,” Solomon asked a little more hopeful “Do all of Mahad’s wishes come true?”
                “That depends.” Arthur answered. “He refuses to grant any self wish that could have negative consequence but as far as I know, any wish he has granted has always come true, and I’ve never heard of a person who hasn’t been incredibly grateful for his help.”
              “Thank you, my friend.” Solomon smiled and started home, but not before turning towards the road that led to the Magician’s home. For if what Arthur told him was true than perhaps his single lovely wish, would become a reality.
                                                               *
                Solomon once again found himself traveling down a stray brick road the branched from town. But unlike the roads of Galway, it was dusty and overgrown with plants, but he did not mind. He followed the path until at last his eyes caught sight of the old cathedral-like home everyone told him belonged to the mage. It was a lovely building of slate stone, with two pointed towers and stain glass windows. It was so beautiful it almost looked as if it was sculpted into its shape. A stone wall up to a person’s waist surrounded the courtyard with a small gap where the path led. What Solomon didn’t expect was the stunning garden the blossomed to life everywhere around the church like structure, from the vegetable garden to the numerous flowers and plants, even  vines of roses and moon flowers and ivy convoluted around the fence, the steps and up the compacted stone of the house.  He found the mage in the front yard tending to each plant as if they were a precious child to him.
                “Why hello, Mr. Motou.” Mahad greeted before Solomon even announced his presence.
                “Hello, Master Mahad” Solomon bowed politely.
                “Please just call me Mahad.” The violet sage smiled and placed his watering can on the stone steps. “You’ve come to ask me for a wish, have you not?” Surprise filled Solomon’s eyes. Was this another of the mage’s powers? “Don’t look so surprised,” Mahad smiled and gestures for the man to enter the house. “There is little that goes on in this city that I don’t know about, but I do sense there is something you wish to ask of me?”
                 Mahad let the old man into a room that looked like a lounge and gestured for him to have a seat and poured them both a cup of tea. “Now, how can I be of service?”
                 “Well, you see; when my beloved Sarah passed away, lord bless her soul, she died before we could have any children, and I’ve grown so lonely in my old age. More than anything I would love a grandchild…”
                “And you think such a heartfelt wish is impossible for me to grant?” Mahad smiled answering the man’s silent question. “Fear not my friend, for I know just how to help you, but first I need the jewels in your bag.”
              Solomon’s eyes widened immediately, and his brow furrowed in suspicion.
              “Do not mistake me for a thief, Mr. Motou.” Mahad assured him and he rose to his feet and began to search through his things for a basin and a bottle of rose water. “I told you there is little that goes on in this city that I know nothing about, and from what Mr. Hawkins tells me, you are very skilled with crafting glass and jewels.”
                Solomon’s suspicions died in an instant. Hopeful, he opened his bag and began searching through the extra jewels and wrapped glass figurines, he kept with him that day. When Mahad returned he had a silver basin in his hands and placed it on the table between them. Then he too a chest and removed several different colored glass vials filled with polychrome liquids.
               “Now, I require nothing from you but if I am to grant your wish, my friend I am in need of supplies, and they must come form you.” Mahad explained, as he poured a vial of sweet water that carried the sent of roses into the water, followed by a few drops of an indigo liquid that fanned out among the surface. Finally he added gold, nectar like liquid that spiraled and twirled among the surface until the entire basin glittered in a faint golden color. “Now what ever I tell you I need, you must place in the basin,” he explained and Solomon nodded.
                 “The bracelet,” he gestures to the onyx jeweled bracelet, held together by wires of gold with a large heart shaped ruby. Solomon did so without question.
                “The lilies from your garden,” he pointed to the ones Solomon had brought with him. The old man quickly surrendered the flowers
                 “The glass figurine of a cat.” Solomon placed it in carefully.
                “The sterling silver bell with a song bird engraved on it.” That had been one of his newest creations but he wasn’t reluctant.
                “And most important: your wife’s amethyst earrings.”
                “Her earrings! Why?” Solomon demanded, unsure if he could part with his late wife’s most treasured possession.
               “The earrings are hers and therefore a part of her shall be a part of the child and quiet possibly part of her personality as well.” Mahad explained, compassionately. Solomon sighed, and gently placed the earrings in the basin. He watched mystified as Mahad stirred the liquid with his finger and watched as one by one each object melted in a small burst, of silver and jewel colored dust, before spiraling among the gold liquid like a stream of rainbow stardust. Mahad kept smiling, never once taking his eyes off the liquid as it began to spiral, and then slowly it began to mold. The liquid taking many forms. Solomon was not sure what fairy magic this was but he knew in and instant he was fairy struck.
               “Your grandchild will be beautiful in body and soul,” the magician explained. “With hair as black of the onyx but lined in the magenta of your rubies and his bangs will be bolts of gold, skin smooth and soft and pale as your lilies, a body as frail and delicate as a glass figure but as swift, agile and flexible as a cat, the child will no doubt appear frail, but shall be must stronger than he or she seems, like a cat, a voice as sweet and chimed as a bell’s, as pleasant and angelic as a songbird, but the voice shall be as outspoken and loud as a bell as well as lovely, and above all…the eyes. The eyes shall be the most vibrant and beautiful shade of amethyst anyone has ever seen, they shall be large and innocent and reveal nothing but purity and light, but within them shall he a hidden spark, and spirit and a desire; they shall be a mirror image of Sarah’s. The child’s personality will grow and evolve overtime, as will he, and he shall be loved by all…that is all I can see and this shall bring the child to you…” Mahad smiled as the liquid molded together until it was solid and the shape of a star.
               Carefully, Mahad picked up the tiny seen and placed it Solomon’s hand. “Place this seen in a pot, plant it and water it every day and every night and leave it in the sun by day and the moon by night. You must love the plant that comes from it as if it was your own, and when it blooms, you shall see what happens.”
                Solomon couldn’t thank the magician enough for all his help, and despite Mahad’s protests, promised to make him a special figure as a symbol of his thanks.
                Solomon returned home immediately and found the perfect pot for the plant; an old vase Sarah had used to grow roses made of ruby glass. Quickly, he filled it with the finest, most nutritious soil he could find and carefully planted the star-shaped seed, before closing it up and giving it water. Following the Mage’s directions he placed it in the window where the sun always shone and the moonlight was the brightest.  For many days and nights he took care of the bright blue-green plant that grew, and he did calm to love it as if it was his own, and every night the moon glittered across its surface while Alastair loyally protected the flower from birds or other creatures that sought to eat or harm the plant. Patiently, and happily Solomon took care of the plant, until almost a week and a day after he planted the flower, it began to bloom.
                First it was a velvety green stem, than velvety leaves began to sprout from the pretty green stalk. Then finally a handsome bloom began into a gentle bud: a tall, slender bloom like a lily with brilliant gold and scarlet petals, so delicate Solomon was almost afraid to touch them.
               “What a gorgeous flower” he gasped in awe at the lovely blossom, as if enthralled by the very sight of it. The mesmerizing enchantment held him firm in its gasp like a month paralyzed by the spell of a burning flame. Fairy struck, he was. Until he couldn’t deny it anymore and gently placed a kiss on the delicate flower’s silk petals.
             What happened next, Solomon and Alastair could only describe as a miracle. A brilliant shower of golden glitter, like raining gold, silver, crystal and ruby stars danced around the flower like a glittering streamer of stars. Dancing and glowing in a pale violet in the luminous silver moonlight the bud began to open and he indeed saw that it was not a lily but a rose. A stunning gold and scarlet Irish rose decorated with speckles of black and amethyst. But what stunned both in and the cat, what made the miraculous even a miracle, was the birth that occurred: for in the heart of the flower all naked and wrapped in the flower’s petals, was a small toddler, no bigger than half and thumb.