Skies of Ticivorna
For the fourth time in my existence I would not be alive if not for magic.
The first time, spirits of long dead god-kings brought me back from the grave after falling to Brann’s fire.
The second time it was the Lady Luft who conjured winds that allowed us to fly over the prison that would have been our tomb.
The third time it was Jord whose magic was essential in countering the magic of the two witches who imprisoned and tortured Eleanor.
And the fourth, just yesterday, Eleanor removed an addiction that all my years as one of Ticivorna’s best doctors had no answer for in minutes, with nothing but her will.
Magic. I have feared and hated it all of my life. I and most of Ticivorna’s public have good cause to be afraid We are nothing but insects to these mages and they could just as easily squash us as they could gently free us from the spider webs we stupidly fall into. Brann fried many ‘ants’ under his magnifying glass in Rustview and still walks the world free to do Ashurta’s bidding. How many child mages will find pleasure in ripping the wings off of ‘flies"? How many will wipe out a city because they made a mistake practicing a spell that was beyond their ability? What will ordinary people do when, like Jord, the response from the magical aristocracy is that they can’t do anything for your dead son so taking action against the mage who killed him by extracting every ounce of water from his body would be pointless, especially when his talents could be put to use helping various drought stricken areas? Would it be so hard for these people to live without using their magic?
And yet, I know the answer to that question before I ask it. Of course they can’t live without their magic. I’m not about to stop treating people because my syringe could be filled with poison as easily as medicine or that I could make a mistake during a routine operation and a child could die when they shouldn’t. I’m not about to stop being who I am any more than Myer is going to give up his potions, Miles his cooking, Ebenezer his books or Marcellus his guns. Gods help me I have no right to stop these people either. As afraid as I am, I have no right to stop them.
I just hope I’m fast enough to scurry away from the feet of such giants when I have to.