“The blessed man is hard to curse,

and the cursed man is hard to bless.”

The Tome of Ácles, Canto 24, Versicle 9

In short, the magic was gone. It did not go quietly. An element as old and mysterious as the world, woven deep through its bones and memory, had been consigned to the keeping of myth and nostalgia in the great kingdom of Stheara. This was achieved not by forces of darkness but by coercion, strength of arms, and ambition. Man vanquished magic. Endings, though, no matter how apparently final, are generally not. Some lonesome few either would not, or by their very nature could not, abandon their gifts. Thus began the struggle. Far away from the influences that sought their destruction, agents of ancient practice continued to work their art in secret against the day when they would see it explode once again into the world like the water from behind a dam or bright shades onto a canvas. Until this breach, however, the wide and colorful continent of Stheara would continue to drowse as her people came to terms with the modern era, where magic was replaced with coal, steam, magnetism, and gears.

To begin at the beginning, however, and do the story justice, one must look back to when the chill began high in the north, and the days grew short…

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Posted on: December 6, 2022, by : T.C.