Note: any resemblance to real events is purely coincidental
Once upon a time, in a far and distant land, there was a group of people who were born different. They were usually recognized by slightly impaired social skills, a disregard for fashion, and magical abilities. Their talents, and differences, appeared from a young age, setting them apart.
In effect it made them loners. However, their unique talents also allowed them to create things. An enlightened monarch of the time, who needed help in a war with a neighbour, had a group of them brought together and funded. They discovered how to layer spells to obtain a scrying network, that allowed them to contact each other.
This was a blessing, because they could finally communicate with people who were just like them. They took the insult ’sourcerer’ that had been thrown at them by scornful and envious people, and turned it into a badge of honour. They found comfort in each other’s company and in creating new and complex rituals together.
After a while, though, a strange thing happened. Some sourcerers, being at the right place at the right time, became successful and immensely rich. As a result more and more people wanted to emulate them. The sourcerers of old had created many layers of magic. It was no longer necessary to master them all to access minor spells. Many people could produce tricks, sparks, rabbits and flowers, or had somehow acquired powerful artefacts, and could now, too, perform magic ! So they called themselves ’sourcerer’ too.
The original sourcerers were incensed. These new sourcerers were outrageously normal. They were the very people who had excluded them before for looking frumpy and knowing the powers of two ! How could a prettyboy who could draw swirls and windows in the air, or a vain girl waving a pretty wand pretend to wizardhood !
As a reaction, the sourcerers of old withdrew to older circles of the scrying network. They exchanged secret signs and tokens of recognition, so that they would know they were amongst equals. They started to shun gatherings of new sourcerers, and tended to meet up only in certain prearranged locations. And they started looking for a new name.
Oh dear. We’re once again approaching that time when everybody feels compelled to summarize the last year, or to play at being a garden-variety Nostradamus. As in last years, I might just do a prophylactic ‘Mark all as read’, and leave it at that.
Life is edge. There is no experience worth living that doesn’t include the risk of pain.
There we are again – close to the darkest day of the year.