I stopped near the crest of the hill. There it was, a small depression, nothing more than a lull between hills. But I knew. It was, after all, what I did.

I got out of my jeep. The desert wind caressed my skin, the Nevada summer heat feeling nothing more than pleasantly warm. It was at least one ten, probably closer to one fifteen, but the desert welcomed me. It held me, waited for me. It whispered its secrets in my ear, and urged me to move deeper into it. I could go, run through the plains and dunes, lose myself in the world. No one would find me, not if I didn’t want them to. Yet, I couldn’t go. I had friends. I had a wife. I had responsibilities to the world, a world I helped form. And I didn’t want to go, not truly. I had mastered magics that would ease the pain of loneliness, that would keep me sane and focused after years, decades, even centuries with no human contact. But just because I could doesn’t mean I would enjoy it.

Responsibilities. Pacts. The diplomat from the Sluagh was nice enough, someone I could really get to like, but we both knew that there would be no accord without gifts. Oh, it would go both ways, and I’m sure the Darkest Court would make my efforts worthwhile, but there is no tit for tat without first providing a little tat (or maybe some tit, but I had none of that to give.)

The desert had whispered its secrets in my ear. This was the place. It had potential. Not immense amounts, but I didn’t need anything too fancy. This was a small gift, a token of the school’s appreciation of their Fae brethren. This place would do for what I had in mind. I walked down into the depression and closed my eyes.

I could feel the desert, its power flowing through this place, collecting here and there in small eddies. I felt beyond, caressing the barrier between this world and all others. It felt like cotton, smooth and fresh, fresh from the loom. The first time I had felt this barrier, eight years ago, it had been dirty and old, clogged with filth and disbelief. Magic doesn’t come from this world, and it doesn’t come from others. It comes from the space between worlds, the time between times, and it flowed into our world through that barrier. When the barrier was thick and dirty it became impermeable. There had been almost no magic in the world when I had first touched that barrier. I had changed that. I had figured out how to clean the barrier, to refresh it. I taught others. Together, over the years, we had brought magic back.