She sat under the willow tree, gently weeping. It was beautiful out, hardly a cloud in the sky. The wind blew gently across the meadow, pushing the flowers and grass ever so slightly. And still, she wept. Her's is a tale of the tragedies of love, the nightmare of loss, for this was the day that her lover was sent off to war. They had known each other since they were children, running through the market streets and playing by the creek. They were the best of friends, until, one day, they became more than friends. It happened without either of them really knowing it, for love is like a lightning bolt, quick to strike, quick to go. But it leaves a tremendous impact behind. They shared a first kiss under the very same willow tree when they were no older than fifteen or sixteen. And then came a second and a third kiss, after which they carved their initials into the bark of the tree. They were caught in the strange euphoria of young love, walking from day to day in the best kind of dream. It was then that she discovered her strange abilities. Lighting a candle without a match, opening a door without even touching it. Her powers only grew stronger with each passing day. When she was twenty-one and he was twenty-two, she decided to show him. But the fear she saw in his eyes crushed her when she pulled a flower out of thin air. "Witchcraft." he whispered. And so she ran out the door, and fled to the only other place she knew safety. He found her kneeling by the willow tree just a moment before the sun set and the darkness took over the sky. He took her in his arms and kissed her, and that was when they both knew everything would be alright. He made her promise not to use magic in public and she agreed, and they left the meadow and went home without further incident. They married just a few years later. He became a blacksmith, and she, a simple house wife. But they were happy, and happiness is all you can really expect out of life. She cooked him marvelous dinners without the use of her hands, and he, in turn, would craft beautiful sculptures out of metal or wood. They had enough food, a roof over their heads, and a love that would persevere through all hardships. But the war started. More and more men were sent out on the front lines. They lived in fear everyday that he would be shipped off to fight, but for four short years, they managed to stay together. And now we come to the beginning. We see the girl, a young woman now, weeping by the willow tree, for her lover was ripped out of her arms and sent off to war, and she was left alone. Of course, that would be no end to a tale as tragic as this one. There is more to the story, more that I will tell you, if you stay to listen. But first know this; they will not receive a happy ending. So if you'd rather believe that he came home to her, that they kissed beneath the willow tree and lived long and happy lives, I'll do nothing to delude you of your fantasies so long as you leave. Are you sure? Very well, then. I will continue. The war will go on for three more years. But he will not live to see the end of it. During his very first battle, he will be shot down. He will bleed to death on the battlefield, trampled to death beneath the feet and hooves of his comrades. His last breath will be spent whispering her name. She will not receive a letter of notification of his death. Instead, she will see his eyes close for a final time through the window of a spell. She will whisper his name as a single tear falls down her cheek. And then she will realize in entirety that she is alone. During the next -and might I add final- few week weeks of her life, she will try to use magic to revive him, knowing full well that it wouldn't work but unable to keep herself from trying. She will spend her days locked inside, spend the evenings gathering supplies. During the night she will not sleep. She will only cry. The disappointment and depression will weigh her down day by day. The emotional distress will grow to be too much for her. On her third to last day among the living, she will use magic in public to strike down the commanding soldier responsible for sending her lover off to war. She will not have realized what she'd done until it was too late. She will be captured, tried, and executed on her birthday. They will tie her to the willow tree, and light her on fire. But she was always a stubborn one, and she will not let her executors have the last word. Instead, she will utter a final spell and kill herself. She'll thirty-two. He'll be thirty-three.