When the world was new, there was much chaos. Wars between gods. Wars between gods and those they were charged with guarding and guiding. The birth of terrible monsters on sea and land and sky. The birth of creatures who could cross between the realms of the living and the dead, who could haunt the dreams of all creatures who dreamed.
In the midst of it all, there were those who, perhaps in vain, still endeavored to live and love and build in the new world. Continue reading
Since they were young, their father always set challenges before the three brothers, challenges for their minds and their bodies. Challenges that tested their hearts and their spirits. Challenges that tested their chosen discipline. The eldest, Protos, sought to master commerce. So their father, who was a wealthy merchant in the southern province, once set to Protos the task of managing some of his most demanding patrons. The youngest, Teliko, was strong, brave, fast, and agile. He sought to master all sport. So their father once set to Teliko the task of climbing the highest mountain in the province, a task that only three other people had managed since the mountain had been discovered. Mesos was the middle son and a student of history and myth. So their father once set him on a quest to find the rarest book of history that told the story of their province. Continue reading
At last, a job she could enjoy and do in peace without interruptions or distractions or disruptions. Fara had been assigned to the “back room.” It wasn’t exactly in the back of anything. When the museum was housed in the old building downtown, there actually was a back room where the less apparently interesting items acquired by their adventurer patron ended up for later cataloguing and study. On the new grounds, the main museum occupied a gorgeous brick façade building with high windows that faced into welcoming hallways that then led into darkened interiors that housed all the light-sensitive treasures. There were gems and jewelry and weapons and wardrobes and tablets and tomes and more, all of which was proudly displayed and painstakingly maintained.
Then there was all the stuff in the back room. Continue reading
An animal’s would do in a pinch, but for real power, it would need to be human. I still can’t help but to find it curious. What they give away, what is no longer of any use to them is a treasure to us. Because we, of course, know how to use it.
The roots. The bone. The blood that once pulsed within. The essence of strength and health and prosperity.
It must be undamaged, unspoiled. A broken tooth or a rotten one has broken or rotten magic in it. It must be freely given. Not found, or there is too little magic in it. Not taken by force. Or else there is no magic in it at all.
*** Continue reading