A week later…

Frances fiddled with the fabric of her gambeson as Renia made more notes with her clawed feet. This was their second session after her outburst and they’d spent most of it going over the techniques Frances had learned to manage her anger.

Frances knew about things like finding a physical outlet, taking deep breaths, or talking to someone she trusted. However, the key thing Renia seemed to be focusing on was something she called “thought awareness.” It included Renia asking a lot of questions about Frances’s past, her experiences that all seemed to lead to the harpy asking Frances questions about why she thought this way.

Right now, Frances had just finished recounting the incident with her old bullies, Jessica and Leila. It’d made the harpy furrow her brow in surprise as she frantically scribbled something down.

“Frances, I’ve noticed something intriguing. Whenever you feel intense anger, it’s rooted in this thought about something not being fair. Would you say that’s accurate?”

Frances leaned back in the comfortable lounge chair. It was a benefit of being confined to the Windwhistler mansion by her friends, and family. She’d insisted she could use a normal wand, but if she was being honest, it was just hard using a normal wand after having Ivy’s Sting for so long. Spells took longer to cast, needed more energy and there was an emptiness she felt as she directed her magic.

“Frances?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I… yes.” She took a deep breath. “I think that’s accurate.”

“Hmm, why do you think that it’s important for things to be fair?” Renia asked.

“I think it’s important because…” Frances felt, rather than heard her own voice trail off. “Sorry, I’m not sure. I think I understand why you’re asking that, but it’s just such an odd question.”

“Try your best then, say the first thing that comes to you,” Renia suggested.

Frances swallowed. “I think it’s because I know what happens when things aren’t fair. Because my parents treated me badly, I’m broken—well, healing a bit now, but I can’t forget how terrible it felt. I don’t want that to happen to anybody else.”

“I see.” Renia pursed her lips. “Hmm, would you like to know what I’m thinking, Frances?”

Frances nodded, more than a little concerned at how focused the harpy was getting.

Renia put her quill down. “You see, most people would be disturbed, or at least, bothered if they saw that kind of unfairness happen. They’d also feel angry too. The difference between you and most people is that the anger you feel is so intense, and it lasts for such a long time. That’s why I’m asking you these questions. It’s to get a better idea of how you react to situations and why you feel anger.”

Frances nodded. “So why do I feel so angry?”

“It’s hard to say right now. May I ask you a few more questions for today?”

Nodding again, Frances watched as the harpy took a sip of water.

“So, you don’t want the kind of abuse that happened to you to happen to anybody else. Why do you think it’s important nobody else feels that way?” Renia asked.

An image of her childhood self in the mirror flashed across Frances’s memory and she shivered at the gaunt, hopeless look in that face.

“Renia, I can’t remember a day back on Earth when I wasn’t aching somewhere or starving. I was alone, so hungry, and I didn’t even know about what life had to offer. It wasn’t living,”

The harpy nodded. “Hmm, so why did you think it was fine for you to kill the orc shamaness then? Wouldn’t that be depriving someone of their life?”

Frances swallowed and averted her eyes. “I thought… I thought she had to be punished.”

Renia blinked. “Ah. Thank you for being honest, Frances. I just have one last question. Do you think you deserve to be punished for almost killing the shamaness?”

Frances cringed and whispered, “Yes.”

The harpy took a deep breath, scribbled down a note and put her quill back down. “Frances, I think I have a working theory on what makes you so angry. Unfortunately, though, unsurprisingly, it’s your parents’ fault.”

“Of course,” Frances muttered.

Renia chuckled and leaned forward. “Which means it isn’t your fault. What they did to you, made you all the more aware of how horrible abuse is, and so you feel deep sympathy for other vulnerable people. The other part is how they raised you with the threat of punishment. Anytime you did something wrong, you were punished. That conditioned you to believe that if someone does something wrong, they ought to be punished.”

“Mom mentioned this, though, back then she was talking about how I was taught to act when put in charge.” Frances clasped her hands. “But how do I unlearn this, then?”

“Becoming aware of this is the first step. The second step is to find a way to change what you learned. You can remind yourself that instead of thinking about how someone should be punished when they did something wrong, you can remind yourself that you’re not the one to punish them. You’re the one who can stop them, should stop them, but not punish them.”

“Because I’m not worthy of punishing them?”

“No. It’s because punishing people for what they did wrong isn’t necessarily a good thing. You and I know people can change, right?”

The words were familiar, Frances knew she had heard them before. Yet, it was still reassuring to hear them once more.

“Thanks, Renia.”

“You’re welcome, Frances.” Renia smiled and reached across with a wing to touch Frances’s shoulder. “And if I haven’t made it clear, thank you for offering me this job. It is hard, but I’m glad to be able to help people with my skills.”

“You’re welcome, Renia. By the way, there’s something I want to ask you.” Reaching for her wand holster, Frances took out Ivy’s Sting. “You know how Ivy’s Sting has rejected me. Um, I was wondering if you had any advice.”

The harpy’s chocolate-brown eyes studied the wand. “Wouldn’t your mother have better advice, being a mage and all?”

“She was angry at Ivy’s Sting and isn’t sure about me continuing to use her. I wanted to ask for your opinion on it.” The surprise blossoming on Renia’s features clearly demanded further explanation. “She said that she wasn’t being a very good friend, rejecting me without warning, while also not telling me important secrets. I understand what mom is saying, but I still feel I made a mistake with Ivy’s Sting.”

“If I remember, you think you are to blame for forcing Ivy’s Sting to do something she didn’t want to do.” The harpy’s thoughtful expression didn’t change as Frances bobbed her head. “I think that that’s a good theory, but is that what Ivy’s Sting said?”

Thinking back to the moment when her wand had rejected her, Frances shook her head. “No. She just went quiet and stopped me from casting the spell. Do you think I’m wrong?”

“Not exactly. I think that you might be projecting on Ivy’s Sting what you think you did wrong. It’s a common thing that many people do when they want to fix something, but have you considered just listening to Ivy?” Renia asked.

“But she hasn’t said anything.” Frances had apologized to her wand many times after her outburst, only to be met with stony silence.

“Hmm. Have you asked her if she’s even willing to speak?” Renia asked.

Frances blinked, shook her head and touched her wand, transmitting that thought and her earnest desire to learn from her wand.

What could only be described as a milieu of feelings ran up Frances’s arm. Confusion, eagerness, and fear, all mixed into a wave of emotions that made Frances blink.

“She’s talking to me!” Frances squeaked. “She… she’s not sure.”

Renia’s eyes widened. “Ask what she would need to be comfortable speaking to you.”

Frances did as the harpy told her to do, and got a response. Only, it wasn’t in the thoughts or sensation she was used to.

It was as if she was being spoken to, directly. She couldn’t pinpoint the sound of Ivy’s voice, or how old she sounded. In a sense, the voice sounded almost musical in quality, like it came from a trained soprano.

“I need you to be alone and I need you to trust me. Can you go to Charlotte’s Rest? Don’t tell Renia where you’re going.”

Frances sprang to her feet. “She asked me to trust her and to speak to me alone and go to a place outside to talk.” If she remembered right, it was the hill that Ayax had taken them and Ophelia’s group to during the Winter Tournament. They’d visited that hill numerous times before the siege began and it had a lot of good memories.

The harpy frowned. “That is progress, Frances, but there’s a thunderstorm outside right now.”

Bitter-tasting sorrow thrummed through Frances’s mind and she reeled at what she felt from Ivy’s Sting.

“Frances, I’m sorry, but this can’t wait. I… there’s a lot I need to tell you. Edana’s right. I have been a terrible wand and it’s only put you in more danger. I’m just so scared and worried, I didn’t know how to just talk to you.”

Frances blinked. All she could feel from her wand was sincere guilt, but that didn’t make sense. “I thought you were mad at me for trying to kill that shaman?”

“No, I was angry at that clodthrog too! I nearly killed her, but at the last moment, I realized what I was doing. So I stopped you.”

The new information set off a lightbulb in Frances’s mind. “You were angry too… That’s why you didn’t warn me.”

“Mm-hmm. I… I thought you’d be angry at me if I explained why. You seemed sorry, but I… a wand, just rebelled against her master. I didn’t know how you’d react and when I listened to your mother, she said a lot of things that were true. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you these last few days, and the truth is… I have been putting you in danger. There’s a lot you have to know but nobody else can know.”

Not even hesitating for a moment, Frances made a mental list of what she would need and said, “Okay. Just give me a moment to get dressed.”

“Frances, are you sure?” Renia asked.

The short brown-haired girl swallowed and took a deep breath. “No, but I want to trust Ivy’s Sting. We’ve supported each other for so long, even if we’ve hurt each other on occasion, and she wants to open up to me now. If I have to get a little wet, that’s fine.”

The feeling that Frances got from Ivy was as if the wand sniffled. She felt touched. Renia smiled, though, a little warily.

“Okay, but keep your mirror close. We don’t know what agents of the Alavari are prowling around,” said Renia.

Frances’s heavy green winter overcoat was water-resistant, but the downpour was torrential. Water poured off the brim of her coat’s hood, dripping onto her nose, even as the wind blew rain into her face. Blinking past the hail of rain, Frances fought her way up the slippery wet cobblestones of the hill. She didn’t flinch as flashes of lightning blinded her, and the boom of thunder deafened her ears.

Thankfully, Charlotte’s Rest wasn’t such a tall hill that it would be struck by lightning too frequently, but Frances wasn’t going to take chances. She had her mage armour on underneath her greatcoat, which was making the going even tougher.

Out of breath, wet, and gasping, Frances staggered into the park, staying far away from the few trees. She sat down on the grass in the field and touched Ivy’s Sting again.

“Thank you. Put up a shield, please. I’ll work with you.”

Frances took her wand and sang. Her magic raced through the wand to her immense relief, and she felt Ivy’s presence in her mind once more. Soon, a glowing dome of pale blue magic was up covering her.

“Alright, we’re here.” Frances pulled her hoof off and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Whenever you’re ready, Ivy.”

The wand was quiet, and for a horrifying second, Frances wondered if her wand had gone silent again.

“I don’t know where to start.”

Frances pursed her lips. She had an idea where Ivy could start, but suggesting it might not be the best idea.

“What’s your special ability?” The question had bothered Frances for years now. Her wand was powerful, amplified her magic, her spells, and seemed to do so better than other Named Wands she’d heard of, but her special ability had remained frustratingly elusive.

The worry that she sensed from Ivy only grew and Frances winced. “I’m sorry. That was a bad question.”

“Frances, no. It’s a good question. I just… it’s the key to this. I… ask me another question, please. I’ll answer that one, just not this moment.”

Frances nodded, sensing her wand was sincere, as well as the fear in Ivy’s thoughts.

“Have you considered asking Renia for counselling?” Frances asked.

“Wha—what kind of question is that?”

“You’re sentient right? You can feel and think, and see things, and something bad happened to you in the past. Maybe you could ask Renia for help with it?” Frances asked.

“Yes, I would love to, if you can ask her for me.” Frances smiled and nodded. In response, Ivy chuckled. It sounded like the tinkling of bells, only, with a sorrowful undertow that sought to bring Frances to tears.

“Have you had that few good wielders?” Frances asked.

“My first one was amazing. She was a human mage. She cared for me, taught me, conversed with me, and I saw her from her prime to the end of her life. It’s just… after she passed, everybody else just wanted me for my power. They fought to own me, and anytime they did, they didn’t care what I wanted, they just wanted to dominate me and use me as they saw fit.”

Shivering, and not just from the cold, Frances sent a comforting thought to her wand. The analytical part of her mind, though, was processing this new information with some confusion. Why would anybody fight over a wand nobody knew the special ability to?

“I know what you’re thinking ‘Why would anybody fight over Ivy’s Sting?’ That’s because… because…” Ivy hesitated and sighed. “They weren’t fighting over, ‘Ivy’s Sting.’”

That confession made Frances sit bolt upright, all tiredness gone. “You changed your name. That’s why there’s no record of you. Mom and I were looking for the wrong Named Wand. Everything about you is already documented but under another name.”

“I lied. Most wands don’t but I had to because of my special ability. That’s why I haven’t told you about it. If I did, you’d immediately figure it out. Besides I… I thought I could go without telling you because you trusted me, and just let me be. I can’t ever thank you enough for that.”

“It wouldn’t have been right to make you tell me,” Frances said.

“People rarely think about right or wrong once they see a clear path to power, Frances. You are exceptional in that regard.” Frances felt herself blush at that, which seemed to make Ivy feel amused. “I can’t lie to you anymore, though. The trorc who recognized you is far more dangerous than you think. You know she’s Princess Titania of the Alavari, half-sister to your friend, Prince Timur. She’s Thorgoth’s best agent, able to infiltrate strongholds and blow her way out of them. As to how I know that…'' The wand paused, and this time, Frances winced as anguish and pain shot through her hand. It physically hurt to hold onto the wand, but she persevered. This wasn’t Ivy trying to reject her. It was a recollection and the wand was trying to voice it.

“King Thorgoth of the Alavari was one of my former masters.”

Frances’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“He’s a monster, Frances. I… I’m sorry. I hurt Titania so badly. I’d made up a secret ability where I could create stinging vines. He used this to torture his own daughter anytime she defied him or failed him. Then he’d heal her up every time and repeat the process.”

Frances had long suspected Timur's father was capable of such violence. Hearing it from the wand that had been forced to carry it out however was something else entirely. No wonder Ivy’s Sting was so worried about mentioning her past.

“What did he do to you?”

“Thorgoth has an extremely strong will and powerful magic. He didn’t even try to talk to me, he just forced his spells through, and threatened to burn me, or snap me if I didn’t cooperate. I… I’m sorry, if I was a little stronger, I could have resisted, but he just used me to hurt that poor girl and there was nothing I could do, other than lie about my true ability. Even there I nearly failed. He knew I was hiding something from him. That’s why he eventually gave me away.”

“Gave you away—” Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place, and Frances gasped. “He let Ixtar the Agoniser take you.”

“Yes. I can’t know for sure but the vault he left me in wasn’t guarded. Ixtar just walked in and he thanked King Thorgoth several times.

More grief and guilt emanated from the wand, and Frances had to consciously take deep breaths to focus. As best she could, she tried to project her thoughts of sympathy and concern for her wand. She didn’t know if they helped, but Ivy didn’t stop talking.

“Ixtar made me kill Zirabelle. I could resist him better. I didn’t let him know I had a special ability but it didn’t matter. He was just sane enough to ambush her. I had every intention of just letting Edana lock me away in a forgotten vault until I met you. A master who understood. A master who cares. I… I know I haven’t been honest but I trust you, Frances. I always have. I’m just… I’m sorry for being so scared and stupid and—”

“Ivy, you’re not stupid. And I think you’re very brave. You made sure nobody knew who you really were right? After so long, after so many evil wielders.” Smiling Frances stroked the polished yew. “I’ve always been glad—will be glad—that you’re my partner. I want you to know that, even if you don’t want to tell me who you really are.”

“I… thank you, Frances. I think we ought to talk more, though. It’s been so long I’ve had a master to commune with that… it’s easy for me to be wrapped up in what you want.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Frances said, making a note to herself to book a time before she slept to talk to her wand.

“Thanks.” Ivy paused. “There’s one last thing. I think I should tell you who I really am.”

Frances stammered, “If it hurts you, you don’t have to—”

“Frances, master, thank you for caring but I know I need to do this. I know what you are facing if you go back to your world. You need to know what I can do to make sure that never happens.”

Frances blinked, but nodded and waited quietly as Ivy gathered her thoughts.

Only, the wand groaned with anguish.“I… I’m… damnit I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can tell you.”

Shifting into a more comfortable sitting position, Frances thought about how she could reassure her wand. “Why is that? How can I help you to tell me?”

“Because everybody knows who I am! They know my name, my true ability and they know that to even use me is dangerous!”

Putting aside her curiosity, Frances focused on how to best help her wand feel better, and address her fears. It would be something that Edana or Renia would do.

“But you’ve never hurt me.”

“Frances, I know for a fact that your mother would be horrified if she knew who I really am.”

“Ivy, I’m not going to reject you. You’re my partner. You’ve even opened up to me. Why would I reject you?”

“Because of my real ability. Master, I can recall every spell that my previous masters have ever cast and replicate them perfectly.”

There was only one wand in Durannon with an ability that resembled that and Frances instantly realized everything driving her wand’s fears, secrets and lies. It came together like, not like the final piece of a puzzle, but as if she’d suddenly looked at a painting at just the right angle to understand what the artist’s goal was.

Of all the Named Wands and Staves, few were so powerful that possessing them was more of a danger than a help. Of them, only one which didn’t have an ability that could harm the wielder, but was also the wand that most sane mages would never use.

“You’re the Named Wand, Spellbinder. The legendary wand carved by the wandmaker Natasha for the Otherworlder Yvonne the Shaman-Slayer.”

Ivy whimpered, a pitiful sound, accompanied by a gut-wrenching burst of emotion.“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

Frances took several deep breaths, trying to get her thoughts in order. Thankfully, there was one small mercy. Deep inside, she’d been worried that she would immediately throw Ivy’s Sting away if she’d found out her secret. As much as Frances wanted her wand to open up, there was a part of her that kind of wanted to remain ignorant, worried that Ivy might have a secret so dark, she’d want to reject her.

Once it was out, though, Frances couldn’t help feel a little relieved. The more cynical side of her thought that this was a bit strange. She had the friendship of the deadliest wand on the continent. However, taken from another perspective, Frances simply had the friendship of a wand who’d been abused even worse than she had.

“I… Woah. No wonder you said mom can’t know.” Shaking her head, Frances wrapped her arms around herself. “Ivy, I’m not rejecting you okay. I’m… I’m just… this is a shock.”

“Really? I mean, you truly still want to be my wielder?”

“Yeah. I do. I… did you get Ivy’s Sting from your real name, because Ivy binds and spells sting,” Frances whispered.

“Mm-hmm. I thought it would be nondescript enough.”

Frances nodded solemnly. “We really can’t tell anybody. I don’t think mom would take you away from me, but just more people knowing would be dangerous.”

“I thought that your mom would just snap me.”

“She—” Her voice trailed off. Thinking about what her mother had said earlier, Frances realized that she might not be entirely correct. “I don’t know. I just think we should just keep it between us, Ivy. But… thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening, Frances.” A warm feeling spread up Frances’s wand as the wand’s relief and joy spread into her mind. She smiled, sharing her relief and happiness that she’d not broken her first friendship. It’d been a misunderstanding, and now she knew more about her wand even better than before.

“You’re welcome, Ivy.” Frances pursed her lips. “If I can ask Ivy, I don’t want to use your special ability. I can’t use it anyway because it’d be too strange if I start casting spells I never learned or had the ability for, but… but what happens if we’re in a life-threatening situation?”

Frances thought that her wand would need a moment to think about it, but Ivy’s reply was instant.

“Then I will be at your disposal, Master. You need only ask.” Frances sensed her wand was feeling embarrassed. “My ability is how I made sure Timur could heal you when your throat was cut. He thought he was doing so by instinct, but I was actually channelling his magic into a better spell.”

“Wait, you mean…” Frances touched her neck. The cut had scarred only slightly, but she could still remember how awful it felt as her blood poured from her neck. “You saved me…” Half-groaning, half-laughing, Frances cradled her wand. “Do you know you could have started with that?”

“In hindsight, that may have been a better idea,” said Ivy ruefully. “We should head back, Master. Your friends must be worried by now.”

“Okay.” Waving Ivy’s Sting, Frances dismissed the shield and instantly regretted it. A howling gale blasted her in the face and she immediately put up a transparent magic bubble to protect herself from the wind.

“That’s a really bad storm. I’m… oh why did I think to call you out here?”

“I agree that this was perhaps not your smartest decision, but what you told me did need to be private,” said Frances. She forged into the storm. “Thankfully, as you know, I’ve never been afraid of thunder or lightning.”

To Frances’s shock, Ivy was surprised. “Actually, I didn’t know that, master. I mean, I suspected it, but I didn’t know that.”

“When we cast the lightning spell. Don’t you see what I picture? I mean, you have to if you’re remembering my spell,” Frances asked.

“Um, Frances, I can commune with you, but I can’t read your mind.”

Frances winced. “My parents never really comforted me when there were storms. They were always comforting Denise, and not hitting me. So I spent the time watching the storms. That’s how I got the inspiration for my lightning spell.”

“Hmm, you know, I might have an idea how to make it more powerful,” said the wand.

Frances’s eyes widened. “Wait, you can create spells? I didn’t realize Named Wands could do that.”

“Well, I don’t know if other Named Wands could do that. I am, however, three hundred years old and can remember all the spells that every master of mine has cast. So I was wondering… have you ever thought of combining your lightning spell with the weather?”

Frances blinked, and not because the lightning flashed. “You mean, use the natural lightning of a thunderstorm?”

“More like redirect the natural lightning, but yes.”

The rain battered her shield, and her eyes squinted through the darkness, but Frances found herself grinning. “I like that idea very much.”