Many days pass in which the Fool puts one foot in front of the other, to … well, why exactly? »Set out,« the voice had said. He has done that. And now? Now he is setting out. Again and again. Day comes and night falls. Sometimes it is dark and sometimes it is light. When he gets hungry, he picks some berries. He watches the landscape and sometimes he takes out his colorful balls and juggles while he walks, and walks while he juggles.

One night, growing thirsty from all the walking and juggling, he hears frogs in the distance and decides to leave the path to walk toward them. Where there are frogs, there is also water. The moon is in the sky, so the Fool can see where he is stepping. Soon he has reached the shore of a lake and begins to circle it to find a place where he can drink. The shore is tangled and overgrown, and if it weren’t for the frogs, he would no longer know which side was water and which was land. It is like a labyrinth.

At some point, his feet step onto hard rock, and the further he follows the rocky ground, the quieter the croaking becomes. Finally, it falls silent completely, giving way to a lazy dripping. The Fool is in a cave, and before him, in the black rock, he sees a surface of water that seems to glow from below. How can that be? The water looks clear, and the Fool bends down to drink. That feels good. As he sinks back onto his heels, he thinks he hears a kind of giggle over the dripping. Or was that his little bells? An echo? Strange.
Then something wet hits him with full force. He loses his balance, falls backward with a jingle, and lies flat on the smooth rock with a strange weight on his chest. The weight giggles.

»Hey, what … what is this?« Wet hands touch his face, his neck, and the hem of his shirt. He feels something or someone breathing and, with a few twists and some effort, manages to scramble up.

Beside him, in a glowing puddle, lies a creature that cannot be of this world. Its skin shimmers. And … it has no feet. No legs. No warm clothes! The Fool, half-sitting, half-crawling, shrinks back in fright, and then the creature opens its eyes and sits up. It stretches its lower half toward the water like a serpent. It is a fin, which now makes the water splash as children do with their toes in a stream in summer.

»You are here,« the creature says with a tender voice.
»I am … you are … a magic-thing,« the Fool stammers.
The creature smiles indulgently. »Not a magic-thing. I am a Nixie, and a lonely one at that. And you are a traveler, still at the very beginning of your journey. What are you doing down here?«
»Drinking. I wanted to drink. I set out to become a Wizard, I think.«
»A Wizard, you say. Did the Magician send you?«
»Uh. Yes. But I don’t know where I have to go or what I have to do to become a Wizard. I don’t remember anymore.«
»It’s always like that, don’t worry about it. But you have found your way, like all travelers.«
»How did I do that?«
»By setting out and trusting your inner voice. It led you to me in the cave.«
»Inner voice? And is this the right path? Am I in the right place to become a Wizard?«
»Hm. You know that better than I do. Look around. What do you see?«
»Magic? Glowing water? A magic-girl with a fin?«
»Well, almost. Nixie, please. And would you say this is a good place to become a Wizard?«
»Yes, I think so. Everything here looks so … magical. Can you show me how to become a Wizard?«
The magic-girl makes a face the Fool cannot interpret.
»Oh, I can show you many things.« It places a wet and surprisingly warm hand on the Fool’s chest. Suddenly, beneath its touch, he feels his own heart pounding.
»But not how to become a Wizard. The key to your magic lies here.« Its hand increases the pressure, and his heart pounds harder. For a long moment, the Nixie-girl looks directly into his eyes. He looks back and has the feeling of losing himself in the sparkle of her irises, of dissolving, of perishing and of being found.

Her fingers begin to open the buttons of his shirt.
»Hey, what are you doing?« the Fool stammers, startled.
»Well, what do you think? I am taking off your clothes. There is no other way.«
»No other way for what? Help! You can’t just … I can’t …«
»Oh, yes! I can, and I will.« In a single fluid motion, she peels the Fool out of his trousers and gives him a shove that sends him sliding across the slippery rock into the icy, clear water. He flails wildly with his arms and kicks with his legs, gasping for air under his cap.

The Nixie-girl watches patiently, glides over to him, and suddenly he feels her warmth on his back and her hands on his chest.
»… swim,« he coughs.
Her breath touches his ear. »I know. He who wants to swim, must dive in. He who wants to become, must be. There is no light without shadow, and no magic without surrender. That is the second lesson.«
The pull of the voice and the warm body draws the Fool into the depths, into the magical glow of the water and into the darkness beneath it, until finally, everything turns black and dissolves.

When the Fool comes to, he is lying at the water’s edge, freezing. The cave is dripping; the water is still. His clothes lie beside him, and on top of them is a piece of paper. In the dim light, he recognizes strange signs on it.

»Magic-thing?« he calls, but only the echo from the rock walls answers him. »Nixie-girl?« Silence. Someone has folded the clothes. Was it him? He gets dressed, puts the piece of paper in his pocket, looks around the cave one last time, and turns toward the exit, back to the light.