The blind wyrym searched for the scent of magic, it's mouth gaping wide in an attempt to discover its next meal. Swaying its body from side to side, it froze. It had discoved what it was looking for, hopefully its belly would no longer growl with hunger.

It set out, squirming through the leaf litter at a slow but steady pace. The magic in its body pulsed weakly as it was close to starvation. It kept going now that hope fueled its struggle.

A few miles west a girl was fighting with her mother again. The two women lived on a farm surrounded by olive orchards. Unlike the surrounding area, their farm consisted of a small field of grape vines with a flock of chickens roaming beneath them.

Their famous vineyard used to be popular before her father passed away the year before but now it was looking run down. The roof of the cottage was missing some thatch and some bricks had fallen from the wall. The cobbled yard was filled with weeds, piled clods of dirt and mouldy bits of straw.

"Mummm! I can do it. We can't live like this!"

"Relva, it's too dangerous. You heard the rumours. That dagger will turn you evil! I'll be locking the door tonight. What is more important, some more gold or your life?"

"I just need a few baskets of the midnight grapes, we have no choice. It's not real anyway, that dagger is just a way to keep us down. I bet it was Grakin spreading rumours, that beast wants us to sell him our farm. He is lying mum!"

"But what if he's not? I can't risk losing you! I'll take on some sewing work, we will manage somehow. Just trust me, we can't go out after dark."

"Just one bottle of midnight wine can save us. I know how to make it, dad showed me. They have to be picked at midnight to have that special magical flavour. "

"I won't discuss it anymore, just pick the grapes now, no one will notice."

"Mum, it doesn't work like that, they will know."

"Look Relva, why don't I do it. I'm sure the dagger won't be looking for me. I'm too old for that nonsense."

"You can't carry the grapes with that ankle, it's too swollen. Come on mum, tomorrow they will be overripe. Please, just let me save the farm."

"I could call that handyman, the one that works for Grakin. I'm sure he wouldn't mind getting paid late."

"Mum, that guy is a creep. He tried to touch your butt last time and that was only a week after dad left us."

"I can't lose you too, even if it means someone that nasty has to help us!" She stormed off although it was more of a hobble and slammed the cottage door. The top hinge broke slightly, leaving the door at an awkward angle.

Relva sighed and started with the many chores she had to complete as well as her mother's, with that ankle she had no hope of doing them herself.

Later that evening, they ate together in silence. Relva decided not to mention going out, her mother didn't need to know.

When her father's watch showed eleven o'clock, she snuck out the front door, it was locked but her mother hadn't noticed the broken hinge. The wheel barrow trundled along as quietly as she could push it, the cooking oil she had dripped into the axle earlier had done wonders to the squeaking wreck.

She had packed several sacks and some cord onto the barrow, ready for tonight's harvest. But no lantern as the grapes must be harvested in moonlight.

After stubbing her toe for the millionth time, Relva arrived at the vines. The grapes were so black that they appeared like little holes in the moonlit darkness. Glistening dew began to form on their skins like the silver lining on the most ominous storm cloud.

Smiling at the sight she had last seen with her father exactly a year ago, she rummaged through the other sacks filled with down to cushion the grapes but she had forgotten her sickle.

"No, this can't happen! I'm here, I can save the farm dad!" Relva sobbed.

Slumping against the vine she hunched forward and dug her fingers through the rich earth. Something cold and sharp pricked her finger. Squinting at the spot under the vines, Relva made out a long thin object. It was a knife.

"Thank you, father!" She gasped, wiping her tear stained face. In her heart she knew that her father was watching and guiding her.

Pulling the knife out of the ground was harder than she thought. Once it's full size was revealed, she understood why. It was a dagger, almost a short sword. She forgot all about the terrible rumours and clutched it firmly.

Working quickly, Relva cut and packed as many bunches as she could, clearing half the field in only half an hour. The dagger was a life saver so she kissed it and placed it in the barrow. She hurried to get the grapes into the cold cellar before they lost their magic.

She sighed in relief, now she had no regrets. The farm was saved. Picking up the dagger again, she began to clean and polish it as her father had taught her.

"Master, it is time."

"What? Who's there?" Relva spun around, searching for the voice's owner.

"Relva, it's time to leave. Everything you hold dear must be left behind, that is the price of my magic."

"How, why?"

"You gave tears, blood and sweat. You didn't harm anyone with me, only showing love, my Master."

The cut on her hand split open, her flesh turned to starlight and phased into another plane. The rumours had been true after all.

"Please, let me talk to my mother."

"I'll give you five days to watch her but you can only interact for five minutes within each day."

"Thank you." she cried.

The next morning Relva's mother searched for hours before discovering the grapes in the cellar.

"Oh honey! What did you do?" She sunk to the stone floor in tears.

"Mum, I'm OK. But something happened. I picked the midnight grapes for you and the farm so you will be fine. I'm sorry but I have to go. I love you." She said, appearing at that moment.

Her mother saw her bright but translucent form wavering in the air.

"You're a ghost!" She sobbed.

"I'm alive and well, but different now..." she faded away.

"Relva, where are you?" She broke down in dispare until her stomach rumbled, the overwhelming sweet scent of grapes made her mouth water. Tasting one brought tears to her eyes.

She stood with sudden confidence. The wine would be magnificent, for the farm and for Relva.

Relva watched her mother process the grapes until many bottles of midnight wine stood on the wooden racks of the cellar. She helped occasionally but she didn't speak to her mother again. Then the five days were over.

"Where now, dagger?"

"We go to the source, where I was made. Our purpose will be clear when we arrive. Just order me to take you there and we will pass through the fabric of the universe and arrive instantly." With that thought, she commanded the dagger and disappeared.

Something small, the size of a broom head, wriggled out of the leaf litter under the olive grove nearby. Continuing its labourous task of movement, it searched out the now much weaker scent of its necessary food.

The wyrym had arrived too late, but the strands of magic in the field were enough to fill its belly. It sucked in the stray magic but was unable to reach the magic deep within the grape vines. It slept, burrowed deep within the earth, it's body developing and growing.