prologue | the wise one calls us
by the rushing, throbbing sounds of our life and times, but once we stepped inside, we had no choice but to be transported.
The wizard had told me stories of the silent souls that dwelled here, wide-eyed beauties who hid among dappled shadows and whispered sweet secrets to one another through the leaves. We set off on a quest to find them, following narrow, muddy, pitted trails that bore the signs of their steady passage. After many long minutes of searching, we returned to the road, letting go of our eager pursuit.
It was only then that the wizard heard their murmurs.
“There’s something here,” I heard him whisper, as he grabbed my hand and left the packed dirt behind in favor of soft mud and wild bramble.
A loud rustle to our right and a dark shadow overhead — a guard announcing our arrival. One of Ivan’s cohorts, we would later learn. Guardians of the canopy. A small army of sharp-eyed, fearless overseers who patrolled the forest.
“I thought they only came out at night,” I whispered to my adventure partner, whose hand still gripped mine with nervous excitement.
“Then we’re lucky,” he replied.
We thought perhaps the “something” was simply the awe-inspiring guard he’d sensed on our flank, but as our quiet steps took us farther from the road, it was clear that this place was the heart of it all.
We saw him standing stark white against dull browns and grays and pips of bright green. His back was bent and his many arms were knotted and looped, with gnarled knuckles and more fingers than we could ever hope to count. His robes were tattered and worn through, the steady friction of adventure revealing his pale, slender legs.
The wise one.
Without a word, we knew.
Heads bowed, we approached, and he welcomed us into his court. We settled ourselves at his feet and he spared not a moment before telling us the tale of his kingdom. Ivan and his guardians. The meadows filled with Sebastian’s salve. The silent ones. Heckling jesters and steadfast knights. The giant lovers in a permanent embrace, who fortunate souls might hear groaning high above their heads.
As he spoke, we noticed his subjects moving in and out, carrying messages from across the land. The flow of these industrious messengers never ebbed, one after another entering and leaving his presence, some pausing to take stock of us newcomers before disappearing again on paths seen only by them. Their movements, which might at one time have seemed random to us, suddenly made perfect sense. Each one had their orders and duties. And the wise one delighted in their diligence.
I could feel the energy of that place flowing up through the soles of my feet, a growing pulse that pulled me into rhythm with the wise one and his kingdom. I’d noticed it as we walked, but it wasn’t until much later that I realized the steps I’d climbed to get here were all part of his network. Each step we took was measured and communicated to the wise one.
It quickly became clear that he had a message for us. But first, a test. A lesson in opening our eyes, letting go of expectations, and simply being still. Evidence of his generous heart, he called them in, the silent souls we’d been pursuing. They entered the court through a narrow passage, each emerging cautiously, eyes somehow darting everywhere at once. He urged them on, whispering to them words of safety and assurance.
We’d hoped to spot a few, but we were humbled to see he’d brought us a dozen.
The slow procession grew closer, pausing, pausing, before being guided on by the wise one’s soft words. The eldest lady with the wild eyes drew up closer than the rest, jaws moving steadily, within arm’s reach of us. We were still, never looking directly at them, but sidelong, faces lowered, respectful. The sun moved across the sky as they strode on, revealing their unique personalities, sharing their secrets, of which we could hear only faint threads. There was no time as they passed by. We did not breathe. We could be nowhere but present.
As their footsteps faded, we weren’t sure if we’d passed the wise one’s test. It would be many weeks before we knew. Months before we heard his voice again.
—
When we returned, Ivan himself observed our arrival, gazing down intensely from high above in the canopy. Many others cried out, trying to send word to the wise one, but only Ivan had his ear. The kingdom was barely recognizable, camouflaged by the seasons. But the wizard and his sharp eyes remained sure. We paused again in that place.
“You can’t hide from me,” he whispered, as he took my hand and led us into court.
We’d come to reveal the magick of this place. We had a plan to capture the essence of the wise one through art and storytelling. But he had far more in store for us. As we settled ourselves again at his feet, laying out paper, ink, and paint, he quieted our minds and called us to his aid. In those measureless moments, he revealed to us the biggest quest of our career, as historians, explorers, investigators, psychonauts — as romanticks. It wasn’t just his story we needed to tell. There were hundreds — thousands — of stories waiting to unfold. And it was our duty to help share them. To bring them to life in new ways and give other adventurers the chance to connect with the magick of all these places.
To do this, we would need to make an offering to the land, to share a piece of ourselves — our work, our magick — with this place. As the wizard dug in the soft earth and created a nest for our lovingly created amulets, he said a quiet prayer of gratitude, reverence, and hope. We watched as the land’s tiniest inhabitants explored our gifts, feeling their shape and pulling them into their frequency.
You will do this there too, sweet children, we heard the wise one murmur. Tell the stories. Manifest the magick. Show them. It is in your hearts, but you must help open theirs. Remind them that magick is anywhere they are. All around. Within and without. Above and below. You’ve finally stopped talking long enough to listen. Now you must never stop listening. It is not your voice with which you will speak but ours. I will tell the others you are coming. Godspeed, my adventurers.
And so it began.
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about us | we are the romanticks, a pair adventurers exploring magick, the outdoors, the subconscious, and love. we visit spots that hold magical stories, and share those experiences with others through art. read more at romantickmagick.com.
