He watches her go.

Dark hair like a waterfall suspended, she treads, dreaming, the path back to her world. She took what she wanted; she took what she was unaware of having taken. He had stolen from her, and now she unwittingly stole from him.

Bound by his own laws, he watches her go.

She is relieved to have passed the trials he had set ahead of her, that she had set ahead of herself. Now, the formula complete, the adventure ends, the nightmare dissolves. She leaves behind her a world of crystal and magic, a world of terror and courage. A world of dancing in starlight...

Filled with tears he is incapable of releasing, he watches her go.

She has made friends of his servants, solved his mind-puzzles, navigated the maze. The guardian of the child returns triumphant, having retrieved the baby from the monster who had stolen him. The monster who had tried to make her give up this child she did not want to guard.

With a hole in him that the entire world of dreams could not fill, he watches her go.

She had exhausted his powers, given him no rest. She had demanded more of him than he had granted anyone, made him create entire realms just for her to tear down around him. She had made him twist fate, warp time, and shift the stars in their courses. All for her.

All for her.

The lord of the realm watches her go, an expression on his face unlike any other. He could have done it all differently, made her stay -- he could have shown her --
No. All of his rules, the laws of this land, old as time and the stars, would not allow it.
He had done all of it for her, and at the last, she steals a part of him away with her.

He had done everything for her, all that she requested. Still she hates him, shuns this world he could shape for her, the dreams he could make reality for her. She does not understand the nature of the wild magic she had called upon, does not know the rules that he bent and nearly shattered for her, does not see what she has done.

Taking one last look at the crystal orb in his gloved hand, he tosses it high in the air. As it hits the stone floor, it bounces, impossibly. It starts to roll away, and is intercepted by a white feather, drifting to the ground, bringing it to a soft halt.
The hushed beating of owl wings, like the pulse of a heart, sound on the still air.