During the day, Theresa Tschetter is a junior analyst for a Manhattan financial institution. By night, she's a freelance cartoonist. She also draws Dontknoweither, a sci-fi/fantasy adventure webcomic.

Editor's Note: Thanks to Theresa for creating the Bad-Fic Zombie Baby image.  Also, I think that, plus this story, will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt my point that Theresa's brain is a scary, scary place to be.

By the time Aiethalynne-Bethe reached the tavern, the sun had gone down. She sighed breathily and ran a hand through her fragrant, multicolored hair.

"We're here," piped a tiny voice.

Aiethalynne-Bethe glanced at the plum-sized purple fairy squid that had ridden on her shoulder during the long walk to the tavern. It had insisted that she come here tonight. She knew better than to second-guess Caellimar'ii. It was rarely wrong.

Nonetheless, Aiethalynne-Bethe felt weary and petulant.  "This place is a dump," she said, flatly.

"Don't be ignorant," snapped Caellimar'ii, ruffling its tentacles indignantly. "Not everyone can lounge about in castles all day, Aiethalynne. The locals like this tavern. It brings business to the village."

Aiethalynne-Bethe frowned dubiously. She was a High Princess of the rare Aethaeraeli race, and she'd been raised and trained in the most luxurious courts in the Kingdome. She'd never understood the tastes of commoners. Aiethalynne-Bethe dismissed the thought, though. She was here to meet her destiny, not to develop a sense of empathy.

"I'm sorry, Caellimar'ii," she murmured, trying to look chastened.

"Good," said the fairy-squid, mollified. "Let's go. Your destiny awaits."

"Is that really true? Is that why you brought me here?" asked Aiethalynne-Bethe.

"Of course. You're the Chosen One," said Caellimar'ii. "You're going to meet your destiny today, child. Now put a strand of hair over your shoulder to hide me, and go inside."

Caellimar'ii had been her tutor for about five years--a quarter of her life. In the past year, it had started to make cryptic comments about her "destiny" as the "Chosen One". Aiethalynne-Bethehad not devoted extensive thought to this. She was a Princess, not a philosopher, and at any rate, she liked being called the "Chosen One." It made her feel important.

The autumn evening was crisp but not quite chilly. Aiethalynne-Bethe took a deep breath through her perfectly manicured nose.  A vast oak tree stood impassively above the tavern. As a breath of wind sussurrated through the ancient branches, a flock of huge orange leaves surrendered their places in the brief tumult. Like strange crepuscular birds reluctantly leaving their roosts, they fluttered to the ground in brittle resignation.

Brittle and resigned was exactly how she felt.

Aiethalynne-Bethe pushed aside the thick oak door and stepped into the tavern.

A rugged cacophony assaulted Aiethalynne-Bethe's perfectly pointed ears as she entered the tavern. Customers crowded untidily about the rough-hewn oak tables and barstools. A few locals glanced at her as she entered, but most of them remained firmly ensconced in their tankards of ale and trenchers of stew. Cheery lamps hung from the ceiling, bathing the rough-looking patrons in an incongruously golden glow. A fire crackled merrily in a broad hearth. In spite of herself, Aiethalynne-Bethe found the scent of food and wood smoke oddly wholesome.

Cozy, thought Aiethalynne-Bethe. I suppose there are worse places to meet my destiny.

Aiethalynne-Bethe was relieved that her entrance hadn't attracted unwanted attention. The Aethaeraeli were, after all, a strikingly attractive race. Her long blonde hair had natural streaks of ebony and crimson. Her eyebrows were perfectly arched, and her eyes could change color at will. She was afraid that her unconventional appearance would turn the heads of the locals. Luckily, the tavern was loud and crowded, and no one asked any unwanted questions.

"What do I do, Caellimar'ii?" she mumbled sheepishly.

"Toward the hearth. There's a big man in a cloak," instructed Caellimar'ii. "I can see him through your hair. Go to him."

The enormous cloaked man was slouched alone at the far side of the hearth. He was hunched over a little table with his back to Aiethalynne-Bethe. With an enormous, vicious-looking knife, he was slicing up his dinner.

The blade glittered menacingly in the firelight. Aiethalynne-Bethe hesitated.

"He's a musician," whispered Caellimar'ii. "Go on. He won't harm you."

Aiethalynne-Bethe shuffled reluctantly toward the hearth until she stood behind his chair. A musician, she thought. That could be glamorous. Is he handsome?

"Villager," she said, more confidently than she felt, "what is your name?"

The big man turned halfway in his chair, but his face remained obscured. His expression was unreadable.

"Did you hear me, knave? I am a High Princess of the Aethaeraeli, and I demand to know your name!"

"I heard you the first time," said the man, and rose to his full height.

Aiethalynne-Bethe gasped. The man was hideous. His unkempt eyebrows spilled over his face like the overhang of a badly thatched roof. A jagged scar sheared through the outer edge of the man's right eyebrow, passed over his eyelid, and terminated at the bridge of his misshapen nose. The eye itself was milky blue, shot through with swirling, miasmic ribbons. Aiethalynne-Bethe wondered, foolishly, if it was real. It was like a little moon, lit from within with its own strange fires. The other eye was clear hazel, and it glittered like steel.

"I am the Magical Bard of Thornehaimr," he rumbled ominously, as he towered over her. "But you may call me...Bruce."

Aiethalynne-Bethe blinked.

Before Aiethalynne-Bethe could speak, the squid lunged from its hiding place behind her curtain of hair. "Bruce," it squeaked desperately. "Bruce, it's me!"

Bruce's good eye went wide. "Caelli? Is that you?"

"What?" said Aiethalynne-Bethe. "You know this man, Caellimar'ii?"

The squid ignored her. "Bruce," it pleaded, "I've been under a squid-curse for five years. You're the only magical bard skilled enough to lift it."

"What?" wailed Aiethalynne-Bethe. "I'm the Chosen One! You brought me here for my destiny! We're not here to chat with ugly men!"

Bruce, also ignoring Aiethalynne-Bethe, gnawed thoughtfully at his gnarled knuckles. "I can sing the counter spell. But if a squid-curse is lifted, it manifests itself on someone else."

"Only if someone nearby deserves it more than I," said Caellimar'ii. "The curse has its own will. No one can cast it. It only manifests on those it chooses."

"Interesting," said Bruce. "I may as well begin, then."

"This isn't fair!" shrilled Aiethalynne-Bethe. "I don't understand--"

Aiethalynne-Bethe stopped short. Bruce, inexplicably, was humming.

The humming became a steadily rising chant. It became slowly louder and louder, until it was almost deafening. The entire building vibrated like the soundbox of an enormous lute. His booming song reverberated eerily against every surface. The milky eye was now beaming, flashing with the fury of a star.

Suddenly, there was a huge violet-white flash and a terrible roar. Aiethalynne-Bethe fell to the floor in shock and terror.

Blinking, Aiethalynne-Bethe shakily picked herself up. The fairy-squid was gone. Before her was a young woman with long brown hair and fair skin. Her features were strong and blunt, and she wore a simple gown of purple velvet.  She looked slightly puzzled, but not particularly alarmed.

"Oh," said the woman, vaguely. She lifted her pale hands and examined them, as if she hadn't seen them in a long time.

"Who are you?" demanded Aiethalynne-Bethe. "What happened to Caellimar'ii?"

"Weren't you listening? I am Caellimar'ii. I was under a curse that turned me into a squid."

"But you were my tutor for all these years!"

"I was," agreed Caellimar'ii. "Tutoring you was part of my penance for the curse. It wasn't just punishment, though. I was once vapid and selfish, like you. The curse seeks out people who are like that. That's why  was sincerely trying to teach you."

"But that's stupid!" sputtered Aiethalynne-Bethe. "You told me I was meeting my destiny today! Why did you lie to me?"

"I had to get you to bring me here somehow, didn't I?" said Caellimar'ii blandly.  "Thanks for the lift."

Aiethalynne-Bethe stood in stunned silence for a second. Then, with a primal scream of rage, she snatched the big steak knife off the table and lunged at Caellimar'ii's heart.

Caellimar'ii had only an instant to fling herself to one side. She crashed to the floor, narrowly avoiding the vicious blade. With a thud, the knife embedded itself harmlessly in a nearby wall. Caellimar'ii picked herself up, gasping.

Then she realized that Bruce was staring at the knife with a dumbfounded expression on his pockmarked face. "I've never seen that happen before," he said.

Dangling feebly from the hilt of the knife was a little tentacled creature about the size of an apricot. It appeared to be striped in red, black, and gold. The knife had embedded itself in the wall at about eye-level, which would have been a considerable fall for the little creature. It was hanging onto the handle for dear life.

A slow smile spread across Caellimar'ii's broad face. She plucked the little cephalopod from its precarious perch. "Aiethalynne-Bethe? Is that you?"

"Change me back, change me back!" shrilled the little squid. "Get your ugly bard to change me back!"

Caellimar'ii casually plopped the squid into a pocket, muffling its squeaking protests. "Hush, Aiethalynne-Bethe," she said. "It's time for a little lesson."

"You're not going to hurt her, are you?" asked Bruce.

"Of course not," said Caellimar'ii. "Even though she was selfish and rude, she took good care of me while I was a squid. I'm still her tutor, after all. I might as well return the favor."

"It's nice to have you back, Caelli," said Bruce.

"It's good to be back," she said, smiling. "Let me buy you a beer."