Mystical Ambiguity

The moment the bar unlocked its doors, Roy was inside. Not because he needed a drink. It was far too early for that, and he wasn't the sort of person who reached for alcohol whenever life became complicated.

No, what Roy wanted was answers. And the closest thing he had to answers had just opened the door to the dimly lit establishment and was watching him with an expression that looked equal parts amusement and sympathy.

Varoonth Zinder.

Magical bartender.

Wish granter.

Professional source of profoundly unhelpful advice.

The man looked entirely ordinary. Dark hair. Neatly trimmed beard. Slim build. Clean button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. Friendly eyes. The sort of person who could've been an accountant, a teacher, or somebody's favourite uncle. Nothing about him suggested reality-altering supernatural abilities. If Varoonth hadn't admitted what he was, Roy never would've guessed.

A sad smile crossed the bartender's face.

"Back again so soon?" he asked. "You must be thirsty."

Roy glanced around. The bar was empty. Televisions mounted above the shelves played a football game to nobody in particular. Music drifted softly through hidden speakers. Chairs were down. Lights were on. Everything looked open despite the complete absence of customers.

Varoonth followed Roy's gaze.

"I usually unlock the doors about half-an-hour before people start showing up," he explained. "Gives me time to get my bearings for the day. Restock things. Clean up. Sometimes talk to new friends."

New friends.

Roy wasn't sure if they qualified as friends. Acquaintances, perhaps. Magical co-conspirators. Victim and accessory. Whatever they were, Roy didn't exactly have anyone else he could talk to.

"Do you have time?" Roy asked. "To sit down for a bit?"

"Sure."

The bartender followed him toward one of the nearby tables.

"We've got a while before anyone interesting wanders in."

Chairs scraped softly against the floor as they sat across from one another. For a moment Roy simply looked at him. At the man responsible for the strangest week of his entire existence. Varoonth folded his hands together.

"That look usually means someone has questions."

Roy let out a tired laugh.

"I've got a lot of questions."

"Ah." Varoonth nodded sagely. "And I have very few answers."

"That's not encouraging."

"I know."

Roy leaned back.

"I don't even know where to start anymore."

A sigh escaped him.

"I've got women falling in love with me. Women whose memories and reality are being rewritten to orbit my life. Women who genuinely believe we're meant to be together. And the worst part?"

"There's a 'worst part'?" Varoonth asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm starting to love them back."

The bartender nodded.

"I don't know if it's real," Roy said, rubbing his forehead. "The feelings, I mean. Is it just magic? Is it all just an invention? I don't know if I'm helping them. I don't know if I'm hurting them. I don't know anything."

Varoonth sat quietly for a few seconds. Then he offered an apologetic smile.

"I get it. I don't know anything, either," he said, then paused, his expression shifting. "I wish I could help."

"I wish you could, too," Roy echoed.

"Actually, maybe we should probably be a little more careful using that word around here," Varoonth said with a smirk.

Roy snorted.

"See? You're getting the hang of mystical ambiguity."

"I really do wish I knew more," he said gently as the air of humour faded from the empty bar. "I know that's unsatisfying. Believe me."

"There's got to be something you know. Something that can help."

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I remember previous lives. Previous wishes. Previous versions of myself," Varoonth leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

Roy straightened slightly.

"What happened?"

"That's the problem," the bartender shrugged. "I don't exactly know. I know they existed. I know I experienced them. I know I was there. But details..." He tapped his temple. "They're slippery. Like trying to remember a dream you had six months ago."

Roy frowned.

"So you don't remember granting wishes?"

"I don't exactly grant them," came the reply. "The magic flows through me. As best as I can figure, I'm a conduit. I don't know why, and I don't know how long I've been doing it, but it's a fact of my life. Like gravity, or inertia, magic finds wishes and grants them, all through me."

Roy stared at the bartender, wanting more, needing more, but unsure how to get it.

"I do remember some things. I remember feeling responsible," Varoonth chuckled softly. "And I remember guilt. Plenty of guilt. Not all wishes are warm and fuzzy like yours. But I also remember feeling happy for some people."

"But names? Details? Could you point me toward someone else who's had their wish granted? Maybe they can help me out."

He shook his head.

"Most of that disappears. Like fog burning off in the morning."

Roy sat quietly. That wasn't comforting. If anything, it was terrifying.

"What about me? Will I forget all of this, too?" Roy wondered.

"I genuinely don't know," Varoonth answered, spreading his hands. "I'm always gone at the end. I never get to see the aftermath."

Silence settled between them. Football commentary drifted faintly from the televisions overhead. Finally Roy spoke again.

"Do you regret it?"

Varoonth looked surprised.

"The wishes? Being involved in all this."

The bartender seemed to consider the question for a moment before answering.

"I think regret implies I believe I had a better option," A small smile returned. "I'm not sure I ever have."

Roy studied him. For the first time since meeting Varoonth, he looked tired. A man carrying responsibilities he didn't entirely understand. Somehow, that made Roy trust him more.

Then Varoonth suddenly froze. Mid-thought. Mid-expression. Eyes closed. Head tilted slightly upward.

Roy sat up straighter.

"What?"

The bartender didn't answer immediately. Several seconds passed. Then he opened his eyes.

"Huh."

Roy frowned.

"Huh?"

Varoonth looked around as though listening for something distant.

"Wait a second."

"What?"

"I don't understand the magic."

"You've made that abundantly clear."

Varoonth ignored the sarcasm.

"But I can feel it."

Roy leaned forward.

"Feel what?"

The bartender's expression became thoughtful.

"It's changing."

Roy's stomach tightened.

"What does that mean?"

"Something's shifting. That's the best way I can describe it. Like pressure moving. Like gears turning. Like a river changing course."

Roy swallowed.

"Does that mean it's almost over?"

Varoonth's smile became sympathetic again.

"I wish I could tell you."

A pause.

"Careful," Roy said.

Varoonth blinked.

"What?"

"Using the word again."

The bartender laughed. A genuine laugh this time.

"Fair point." Then his expression softened. "But honestly? I don't know if it's ending. I don't know if it's beginning. I don't know if you're halfway through. I don't know if you're only getting started."

Roy slumped back into his chair.

"That's horrifying."

"A little."

"But I do know this," Varoonth folded his hands together. "Something is changing. And whatever comes next..."

He smiled.

"...I don't think it's going to be boring."