More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.
This follows from last week’s snippet.
“We need to move.”
“A moment,” Kestra replied, turning and kneeling next to the young ogre. “My name is Kestra,” she told him. “I’ve come to help you.”
He looked at her, his body stiff with fear. “What’s your name?” she asked gently. He didn’t reply and she felt a stab of worry that the terrors that had been assaulting him had destroyed his reason.
Veren shifted uneasily, dark eyes watchful. They were trapped here with nowhere to run, and it went against all his training, all his experience.
Kestra glanced at him, then looked back at the boy, rising slowly and extending her hand to him. “It’s not safe here,” she said. “We need to leave. Come with us – we’ll take you some place safe, some place where they can’t hurt you.” She could see the hesitation in his eyes, the indecision, and was at a loss as to how to get through to him.
“Here.” Veren appeared at her side and handed her a round hard cake. “Give him this. It’s a travel ration.”
An overly long blurb:
Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.
Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.
Almost no one.
There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.
There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.
And, gradually, a balance was achieved.
Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.
In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.
But also in the cities, magic remained.
Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population.
Veren was one such human.
Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden.
Jopie was one such child.
And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.
Kestra was one such person.
(Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)
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