Spoilers up to and including Changes

The Dresden Files is copyright Jim Butcher. This story is licensed under the Creative Commons as derivative, noncommercial fiction. If you haven't read anything by Jim Butcher, you should. He's a talented author.

Chapter One

Why do we tell stories? I can't say why others choose to chronicle their experiences. I can only speak for myself. For me, it started out as a family tradition. Living with more than seventy family members in a single household means its important to record ones deeds and accomplishments. Failures as well, though we may wish to forget those. We write for ourselves of course—it's important to remember where you've come from. We write for each other as well. For those who come after. A person can learn a great deal from the efforts others have made in the past. I can't tell you how many times I've read my great great great great grandfathers old journals. He's been through some crazy stuff in his extended lifetime. When you've been alive for a few hundred years, your exploits tend to add up. Wizards can live for a very long time.

For my family, stories are far more than just entertainment. We live in an important place, with an equally important duty to preform. Away from the normal world, in a large secluded valley deep in the northern Rocky Mountains. Many others dwell in the valley besides my family. Creatures from legend and lore. For the most part, the mythical and mystical beings who live here prefer to be left to themselves. That's why they are here. The Sanctum where we live is one of the only places left on Earth where humans cannot intrude. Except for my family, the Guardians of this sanctuary for magical creatures. We protect the entrance, ensuring no one can violate its borders. In here, we are a neutral party, so we often act the part of stewards as well. We encounter many strange situations, with many strange non human peoples. It comes in handy to have a written account of how those situations were handled. Most of all, the failures. Always good to have a guide of what not to do. Never wise to anger a dwarf, or inadvertently start a conflict between the Gnomes and Centaurs. Keeping a record of such encounters helps us avoid repeating similar misadventures.

That's why I'm writing my tales. I inscribe here the truth of my deeds. Not just for traditions sake. So that hopefully someone might learn a thing or two from the things I have done. Because I want to be sure no one repeats my mistakes. More still, I wish to share with others the wonders I have experienced. Both beautiful, and terrible.

My name is Elizabeth Kanti Teargwed, and I am a Wizard. Not a Wizardess, nor a Witch. Just Wizard, thanks. While I may have two little sisters, I can guarantee we will not be preforming any mumbo-jumbo around a cauldron—unless its for potions class. Not the look I'm going for. Us Wizards have an image to maintain, after all. Speaking of image, I should paint you a picture of myself. For all I know, it's been centuries since I recorded my endeavors. A depiction of my visage is just the thing before we dive into this tale.

My face is a bit mousy, though I guess some would say I'm pretty. I have an oval face with high cheekbones, a small chin and full lips. My ears are small, as is my nose, which is narrow but round at the tip. My upturned eyes are pale green. I usually keep my long, dark-brown hair in a braided halo—makes it easier to stick a flower in—letting the rest hang down past my shoulders. I'm tall for a girl. Little over five foot ten. Skinny for my height, though few people would mistake me for a boy. You know what, I'll just put a picture of myself on the cover of this logbook. That simplifies things.

Now, for my first story. It's been almost a year since these events occurred. I would have liked to record them directly after, but my injured arm prevented that. So I write it now, though do not worry. It is all still fresh in my mind. With everything that happened, how could it not be? We must start in October, on the day of the festival. The day I finally learned the true history of my family. How we became the Guardians of the Sanctum. Here begins, The Teargwed Tales, EKT Volume One: Adventure Time.

Long drives are boring. We'd been driving through the Scattered Forest on our way to the festival for a couple hours now. With how technology reacts to magic, we couldn't even use the jeeps radio to help pass the time. My three friends in the back seat were having a lively conversation, but their current topic held little interest to me. I'd been so pumped up for the festival before we set out, but the hours bumping down this old dirt road had soured my mood. Not even the view outside my window was helping. The lush grassland; speckled with furs and aspens growing in scattered groves, the sun beginning to set behind the western ridge of the mountains. I smiled. Well, maybe it helped a little. It was quite beautiful. A fragment of my friends conversation caught my ear, hard as I tried to tune it out.

"—all kinds of records. She's amazing. Her first album just came out too. That much success in just one week? I'd be astounded if I hadn't heard her sing," said a pretty girl excitedly.

Turning around in my seat to look back at her; I rolled my eyes, making sure she saw it. She stuck her tongue out at me, crossing her eyes as she rocked her head from side to side. Her short black dreads bouncing with the motion. Malia knows my opinion on pop divas and the like. I could never get into pop music, and dislike having a chorus stuck in my head for hours after hearing it. Even if it is really catchy. Give me classical music any day. Or if I want to dance, I much prefer the rhythm and whimsy produced by the drums, flutes and vocals of the tribal people. This festival was going to be so much fun. Why did time have to be passing so slowly? If only the school was a bit closer to the festival grounds.

I love my school, yet I often wonder what it would be like to attend a normal high school. I had a history class today. I assume that's standard. My math class was probably normal. I'm sure most students learn physics. I can't be sure, but I doubt most schools have a class on Physics when applied to Evocation though. Or Intermediate Potion Making. I had both of those classes today, and I wouldn't be surprised if Strong Roots Academy for Wizards is one of the only schools in the world to offer such courses.

On second thought, I wouldn't trade Strong Roots for any probably super boring normal school out there. I'd learned so much, even in just a year and a half. Spells, formulae and potion recipes. The properties and application of magical flora and how to identify them. The names, attributes and temperament of all kinds of different magical creatures. It all swam through my mind. So much information, so much more to learn. It was exhilarating. Kind of made my head hurt though.

Thinking of school, I glanced over at the old man sitting behind the wheel of the jeep. If it wasn't for him, the school wouldn't exist. Great great great great grandfather looked impressive today. He liked to go full wizard for celebrations. I had to admit, he pulled it off. Pointy hat and all, though he's too tall to wear that while driving. Its more than just his clothes though. Even while doing something as humdrum as driving, his presence demands respect. Not that that stops me from showing him some cheek, but that's just one advantage of being his favorite grand daughter.

Looking at his dark silver mane and the craggy wrinkled old face it framed made me wonder again exactly how old he is. He'd never say. I know he founded Strong Roots almost three-hundred years ago, and has been Headmaster ever since. Before that he was a Warden for years, maybe decades. I wouldn't be surprised if he was nearly four-hundred years old. He started the school after seeing again and again what was happening to young people. Kids who found themselves with powers no one could explain, and they couldn't control. He told me once that seeing all those poor children lose control and be executed for something they couldn't understand, broke him. He discarded his role as a Warden, devoting his life to rescuing as many potential wizards as he could. I love him for continuing his quest to save and educate young people to this day. I would never have met two of my friends currently sitting in the back seat otherwise. I love him for that, and so much more. He could drive a bit faster though.

Great, great, great, great, Grandfather... Not something most people hear everyday. I couldn't think of another family—wizards or not—with such a large multi-generational household. None with so many born with a talent for magic at least. All living here in the Sanctum, at the Teargwed Estate. Or at the school, of course. My family has a passion for teaching. My family, as well as the students and teachers at Strong Roots, are the only humans allowed in the Sanctum. Well, except the Twelve Tribes, but they all live here too. They rarely leave their own territory anyway. The townsfolk living outside the Sanctums borders in the nearby village aren't even allowed to enter, unless they have special permission. My family can't just let anyone in. We are the Guardians of this magical sanctuary after all. All because of the responsibility my ancestor took up well over a thousand years ago, and the blessing that came with it.

'Guardian, protect this Sanctum from mortal hands. Occlude the entrance and let no evil past. Stay true to this task; and so long as you call this Sanctum your home, this blessing will forever endure. Persist in your pledge, and your line shall last till the'—

"Elizabeth," squawked a tiny reproachful voice, causing me to jump in surprise. "Your late." That voice brought me back to myself, sweeping away my scattered thoughts. Looking to the window, there was an itty-bitty sparrow standing there. Feathers ruffling as he braced himself against the winds passage. His feathers were white and black, but instead of the normal brown, they were edged and spotted light blue. Extremely rare for his family, his coloring made him easy to recognize.

"Peeps," I exclaimed, my voice full of affection. "I haven't seen you in ages." Seeing one of my oldest friends finally brought me out of my dour mood. It also meant we were getting close to the festival grounds. Peeps wouldn't fly too far from all the fun. Holding my hand out for him, the little bird swiftly jumped onto it.

"You know the festival started over an hour ago," said Peeps in mock irritation."All the good foods going to be gone before you get there. You might even miss the stories." He said that last part in such a horrified tone, as if comparing it to the end of the world. I'd almost agree. The stories are by far the best part of the festival. They have stories that date back hundreds of years. Some from before they fled to the Sanctum.

"Sorry Peeps, you know it takes forever to get here from Strong Roots. It didn't help that someone was taking their sweet time setting out," I said. The Old Wizard—I call him Gramps or Old Wizard, saves time and breath—gave me a sidelong glance, scowling imperiously before he said.

"Bah! Everyone knows a Wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to." Everyone except me laughed. I knew he'd say that. He always pulls that quote when he's late.

Rolling my eyes, I gave Peeps a pointed look. "You see what I have to deal with? It's amazing we aren't two hours late, since we're running on wizard time." Glancing at the old man, I saw the hint of a smile in the corner of his eye as he returned his gaze to the road. "That said, the suns just now setting, so we should make it in time," I remarked with a glance toward the sun, now only half visible above the western mountain ridge.

"But this is the biggest party of the year," Peeps piped. "The food. The music. The daaancing," he exclaimed excitedly, drawing out the last word. He bobbed his head up and down while shuffling his feet and shaking his tail feathers. If you've never seen a tiny bird dance before, your missing out. Its cuter than kittens.

The little bird sprang from my hand, taking flight to circle inside the cab a few times. Eventually, he landed on the shoulder of a skinny young man behind the drivers seat. I turned around in my seat to watch as the young man pushed back his shaggy brown hair. His goofy grin was made more so by larger than average ears. They stuck out on both sides of his otherwise unremarkable freckled face. He had to crane his neck to look at the little bird on his shoulder.

"Hiya Peeps." Cid said. "I trust your Crew is well?"

"They fly straight and true, friend Cid. Thanks to you," Peeps declared with a bow.

"Don't be silly Peeps, anyone would have done it. You don't need to keep thanking me." His goofy grin turned into a half smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. "We're friends, right?" The sparrows have great respect for Cid. He found one of their nestlings a year ago. It had fallen from its nest and broken a wing, poor little thing. Cid took it to his mom, who's a vet. She was able to fix the little one right up. Cid nursed it back to health and returned it a couple weeks later, healthy and whole. Now he has an entire Crew of talking sparrows who practically worship him.

"You remember Malia and Remi right?" Cid asked, bringing attention to the other two people in the back seat. Both were in the same year at Strong Roots as Cid and I.

"Nice to see you again Peeps," Malia said with a little wave.

Peeps peeked past Cid. He gave a chirp that somehow conveyed acknowledgment without actually speaking. Sparrows are shy creatures by nature, even one so bold as Peeps. He hopped from Cid's shoulder; flapping his wings to gain altitude, just making it onto the drivers side head rest. Then he hopped again and glided the short distance to my headrest.

Shuffling around up there for a couple seconds, he peered down at my two friends. "Hello Malia. Hello Remi," he said formally, bowing to each in turn. "Clear skies and juicy grubs to you and yours." Turned around in my seat as I was; I couldn't see Remi right behind me, but Malia in the middle had a radiant smile on her round face as always. Her dark brown skin gleamed in the fading sunlight, further brightening her smile.

"That's very kind of you, Peeps." Remi said in his clear cool voice, a bit of a french accent flavoring his speech. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn't see Remi. For some reason, whenever he smiles at me recently, I can't help blushing. I mean, he is cute. And he's grown at least four inches in the last year. And the strict diet and exercise routine at Strong Roots was definitely working for him. High cheekbones and a sculpted nose on his gorgeous narrow face. Jet black hair and those piercing, bright blue eyes. If not for fear of a soul gaze, I could lose myself in those eyes...

I decided to risk a peek, stretching further to look past my seat. He was talking to Peeps, but glanced my way as I entered his view. There was that perfect smile. Damn! I pulled back, hoping he hadn't seen my pale face turn bright red. This could be trouble. I am way too busy to be worrying about boys right now. Yet I couldn't deny—at least to myself—that it was certainly an understatement to describe Remi as simply cute. Yup, definitely going to be trouble...

I realized I'd been spacing out for some time. Malia was giving me a strange questioning look. I swear that girls a mind reader. Though, maybe my bright red face had betrayed me. I shook my head slightly, knowing she would ask me about it later. Glancing at Cid, he was also giving me a strange look. He quickly turned back towards Peeps, an odd frown on his face I'd never seen before. That's weird. Whatever.

Luckily, Peeps chose that moment to hop onto my head.

"Time for me to head back. I'm not missing anymore of the festival. Don't take too long Liz, its not as much fun without you. And drive faster Old Wizard!" With that, he soared off my head, into the darkening night.

The Old Wizard began to grumble mumble, something only very old and crotchety wizards can pull off. I'm pretty sure I heard Peeps name a couple times as he muttered to himself under his breath. I had to agree with the little bird, seeing as how we were only going about sixty kilometers-per-hour. Malia—who was born in the USA—would say thirty-five miles-per-hour, but here in Canada we use the good ole metric system. Most of the time.

"Liz? Are we in Tribal Territory yet?" Malia asked.

"Nope, not yet. Not until we cross the border river. The river separates the Scattered Forest from Tribal Territory. We shouldn't be far now. You can see the forest on the other side of the river up ahead. Looks like its getting really close." We all looked ahead, but visibility was poor now that the sun had sunk behind the mountains. The forest was just a deeper darkness ahead of us, the glow from the headlights limiting my night vision. We watched for a while until suddenly, there it was, revealed in the headlights ahead of us. An old stone bridge.

"Awesome," I said as we rumbled across it, into the forest on the other side. I was looking forward to tonight. I only get to visit the Twelve Tribes Territory twice, maybe three times a year. The tribes are a private people. They might live only a couple hours from the school and my families estate, but we don't see much of them outside the festivals.

We drove through the forest in silence, and I could almost feel the excitement in my friends growing. This would be Malia and Remi's first time attending one of the tribes festivals. It wasn't long before we emerged from the forest onto a wide open plain. We couldn't see far now in complete darkness, but I knew it stretched on for kilometers. The road took a sharp left, and a ways down the road ahead of us stood a huge gate crafted from large logs. At first sight, it wasn't anything fancy. Just several vertical logs standing on each side of the large entrance, with two longer horizontal ones across the top. I wished my friends could see the gate in daylight though. Then they could see the intricate carvings that decorate each log. Sadly, the only light aside from our headlights was an orange-red glow illuminating the gate from behind.

Gramps pulled off to the side of the dirt road, and we all quickly—though a bit stiffly—exited the vehicle. On the other side of the road were a few large structures. Stables and sleeping quarters mostly. The road led straight to the gate, though from where we stood it seemed like there was nothing past it. I knew better.

"You kids go on ahead, these old bones need a good stretch." He waved us on and began to do just that. We set out toward the gate, it's beauty growing with every step. Walking together side by side in a line, it struck me as funny how our heights dropped at a steady angle. Remi was on one side, standing around six foot two. Cid was on the other end, right beside me. He's about five foot nine, which makes him the shortest. With me an inch or so taller than Cid, and Malia a couple shorter than Remi, our gradual height difference must have looked comical.

"What happened to the wall?" Remi asked as we walked, looking to either side of the gate.

"Hmm?" I said. Tilting my head and narrowing my eyes, giving him a puzzled look. His question didn't register right away.

"It's a ceremonial gate." We all looked at Cid as we walked down the road. He was pointing at the gate. Then he pointed to either side of it. He continued in a rush, "That's why there isn't a wall." Remi was gazing at him quizzically, obviously still not understanding.

How embarrassing. Cid faster to the uptake than me? But as usual, he'd failed to explain the situation properly.

"What he means is that it isn't a defensive gate. It's not supposed to keep people out. It's ceremonial. It's there to welcome us in," I clarified. "See, there's not even a door." We were close enough now to see the gate in more detail. The only light was coming from behind it, as if the land beyond were ablaze. The sounds of many people were also coming from that direction.

"Wow, those carvings," Malia said in awe, passing Remi and moving to the side to take a closer look as we approached the gate. "The detail. It's a masterpiece. If the entire gate is like this, it must truly be spectac..." she trailed off, her attention no longer on the gate. "U..." she continued; her eyes darting around, trying to take in the scene below us. "Lar..." she ended in nearly a whisper, her mouth dropping open. We had just made it to the gate. Through its entrance, we could finally see what lay beyond.

Watching my friends, I remembered the first time I'd been here. We were standing at the rim of a small crater, ten meters deep and three hundred meters across. It looked like a large flat bottom bowl set into the ground. The sides of the crater sloped down at a forty-five degree angle all around until reaching flat ground about ten meters in. The festival grounds alone were enough to make ones jaw drop. I knew that was only the beginning. There were dozens of bonfires burning down there, with hundreds of people and animals celebrating around them with abandon. Eating, drinking, singing and dancing. Playing games or challenging each other to feats of skill or daring. All scattered around a large round stage in the exact center of the circular depression. The stage was open so those on it could be seen from all sides. A straight wooden staircase in front of us led to the bottom. The ascent around the edge of the crater steep enough to make walking up and down it difficult. For us bipedal folks, at least.

Turning from the looks of amazement on my friends faces, I took in the scene below. Even knowing what I would see, it took my breath away. I just wasn't used to the sheer amount of people. There are only around fifty people living at Strong Roots, including the teachers. A lot of my family live at the Estate, but they're family, so they don't count. Even the village outside the Sanctum has a population of less than five hundred, and they rarely all gather together like this. I don't often get to be around more than a few dozen people at once. There were nearly a thousand people at this festival, and I loved it!

Turning back to my friends, I was suddenly worried despite the looks on their faces. Malia and Remi had both grown up outside the Sanctum. Out in the normal world. The world full of cities, some with populations in the millions! Cities that have stadiums where tens of thousands of people can gather to watch a game or performance. Thinking about that always blows my mind. It's hard for me to imagine being around so many people. I just hope this festival isn't too rustic for them. Except for the large bonfires, there wasn't anything very flashy down there. Some of the people even seemed to be resting at the moment. Probably waiting for the next group of musicians to take the stage. Those might have just been the people who'd been dancing though, since many were still active playing games. Or feasting and drinking. Then it dawned on me. While the hundreds of animals down there weren't out of the ordinary to me, it wouldn't seem normal to Malia and Remi. Even more so seeing as how none of the animals were behaving as you'd expect. Almost every kind of animal you would can find in North America was down there. Celebrating with the humans in a way that was very unlike normal wild animal—even domestic animal behavior.

"I know I've been here before, but never when it was like this," Cid said in a hushed tone. "There's so much going on. Have you ever been to a festival this big before Liz?" he asked. I Ignored him, still watching Remi and Malia, who didn't seem to hear him. I was much more interested in their reactions. Maybe still a little nervous too.

"That is a lot of animals," Remi said slowly. He was running his thumb and forefinger along either side of his strong jaw, all the way to his dimpled chin. They ran against the grain of the short thin beard that was beginning to emerge there.

"I've never seen anything like it," Malia added in awe. Her dark brown eyes widened further as she saw something, and I followed her gaze. A dozen birds of differing species had taken flight, soaring up then gliding down to join the celebrations around a different fire.

A cacophony of noise from nearby drew our attention. Down where the incline leveled to meet flat ground; off to one side of the long staircase, a dozen or so small mammals were running around making a variety of sounds. None of them looked fully grown. I watched as a raccoon caught up to a little pig, touched it, then ran away chattering with laughter. The piglet stopped for a second in dismay, then spotted a little fox kit and ran straight for it. It looked like the piglet had it cornered. The fox had nowhere to run. The stairway was blocking one direction, and the incline of the crater blocked the other. The fox was clever though, knowing the slope was no real barrier to it. It ran straight towards the piglet, who stopped to block its path. The kit suddenly veered off to run up the slope at an angle, the steepness no challenge for a four legged animal. The piglet, realizing its plan, turned to run straight up the slope as fast as it could. It was trying to cut off the little fox's path as it ran a curving route along the slope. But the fox had chosen its path well. The piglet was halfway up the slope when the fox narrowly past by above it. When it had past, the fox tucked in and rolled down the slope, making a quick escape. The piglet stood up there, looking down after the kit for a couple seconds, breathing heavily. Then it too rolled down the slope, snort laughing the whole way down.

"Are those animals... playing... tag?" Remi asked, his voice skeptical.

I laughed and asked, "Didn't you ever play tag when you were a kid?"

"But..." Malia started to say.

"I know what your thinking," I interrupted. "But these are no ordinary animals. They're all smart. As smart as humans. And they can talk, like Peeps. Gramps called them something once, what was it?" I scrunched up my face in concentration, playing with a loose strand of my dark brown hair. "It was something... Anth? Antho..." It was right on the tip of my tongue...

"Anthropomorphs?"

I looked at Cid, scowling at him. "If you'd given me another two seconds I would have remembered that Cid, thank you very much!" Cid looked down at his feet, clearly chagrined. Cid may be my best friend, but I do not need his help. I'm way smarter than he is, and better at magic. Well, mostly.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but doesn't that mean they should look more like people? You know, walk on two legs, have opposable thumbs and all that?"

"That is an excellent question, Malia," said a voice behind me, making me jump.

Turning around, I saw Gramps behind me. Sneaky old man. "I forgot you were still behind us Gramps. Aren't you supposed to be meeting with the Elders?" I asked.

"I am, I am. But first, I had to see the looks of wonder that only appear on young faces the first time they see such a festival." He smiled at Remi and Malia, who both beamed at him.

"Thanks again for bringing us Headmaster."

"Of course Malia, of course. My pleasure. But now, there seems to be a question still in the air…" he said, holding up his hand with index finger raised.

"I can answer sir," I said quickly. He gave me a nod of assent. "These animals are lesser, or part anthop..." I stumbled on it again. Stupid word. "Anthropomorphs. They have human intellect and emotions, but no human physical characteristics." I thought about it for a moment. "I guess I've seen some who can pull off human facial expressions. Its actually rather impressive. Oh, and I've heard there are full anthropomorphs," nailed it, "inside the Enchanted Forest. Never seen one though." I said that last part with a meaningful look at the Old Wizard. He just smiled, a twinkle in his eye.

"I couldn't have said it better myself. Well done my dear." He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. "Now, I must be off. The Tribal Elders will be awaiting me." His dark silver mane fanned out with his dark gray cloak as he swept down the stairs.

"Lets go," I said to my friends, following after him, eager to join the party.

As we reached the end of the stairway, I pointed to the nearest of the bonfires. "You guys will want to start at that fire. Cid knows the drill."

"Why that fire?" Remi asked, looking to me, then to Cid.

"They uh, well, most of the people here don't, they don't speak English." Cid answered. Remi seemed mildly shocked at this, and a bit confused since it didn't really answer his question.

"The people here never leave the Sanctum. And no outsiders besides my family or those we invite can come here. So they have little need to learn our language." I clarified with a shrug. "But a few people from each of the twelve tribes learn. Many in my family learn their common tongue as well. Gramps is fluent, but I only know a little. So I wont be much help. I'm not very good with languages. That's why you should go there first. Should be a translator waiting."

"Are you, not coming with us?" Cid asked cautiously, seeming disappointed.

"Nope. I told a friend I'd find him as soon as I arrived. But once I do, we'll come looking for you guys. Shouldn't take too long. C-ya later," I said with a wave. Hurrying off, I entered the festival to begin the search for one of my best friends.