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Words formed in the Cydney’s mind. “Accept the gift of grayness for your people.”

Cydney managed, “Am I dead? Is all hope lost?”

The intimidating voice replied, “No, my servant. You have found new hope.”

Cydney replied, “In my mind I see words, phrases, thoughts that are new to me and without meaning.”

The voice answered, “You will understand when you awaken.”

Cydney asked, “Who are you?”

The shapeless form answered, “You are visited by the grayness of Andreas. You may call me Xenn.”

Cydney Klarje awakened bruised and battered with rudimentary spells in his mind. When he slept, new Magick appeared in his mind. Cydney Klarje became the first sorcerer of Sagain.

“It’s OK, Morganne. I mean…Teacher. I rather enjoyed your touch. If you don’t mind, I’d fancy another kiss. Perhaps just a bit longer,” Gaelyss awkwardly requested.

“My…pleasure,” she responded.

She tenderly placed her soft orange lips against his and let them linger for a while. Gaelyss felt warm. Morganne gently stroked his long orange yellow hair and then softly brushed her long fingers across his smooth face. Without speaking, she smiled, turned and walked through the soft thick bark of the Spellweaver’s home tree.

Sad eyes watched Morganne leave the tree. An iridescent tear trickled down Kirrie’s cheek as she saw the new Teacher depart.

The big Droll preferred the name Moochie, though it was not the name his mother Minnie had given him. She called him Kevin. He was a member of the Korcran Clan. Moochie’s father Mickey had taken the group from obscurity to one of the more powerful clans in the Peaks of Division. Early in his life, Moochie took up the typical Spartan life of his folk.  Because the cub, as Drolls sometimes referred to their youth, had a knack for sneaking snacks and goodies intended for others he picked up the moniker Kevin the Moocher. Being called Minnie’s moocher got the youth piping mad. He preferred Moochie. Bigger and stronger than most young Drolls, he made his peers pay for teasing him.

After taking a drubbing at Moochie’s hands, a defeated opponent named Reggie moaned, “If he wants to be called Moochie, so be it!”

Drolls were muscular and powerful. Long flowing manes dominated their physique. Some might refer to them as wolf men, but other than their wolf-like faces, the ruggedly handsome folk had nothing in common with the canines.

Duoths had a collective society, but the care and cultivation of the precious onyums was entrusted to a group of thirteen Duoths designated as Onyum Growers. These thirteen were given the names Emanuel, Candler, Treutlen, Bulloch, Wheeler, Montgomery, Evans, Tattnall, Toombs, Telfair, Jeff Davis, Appling, and Bacon. At any given time, in all Duothdom, there was only one Duoth bearing each of the thirteen names.

Seven pods of Duoths served as stand-bys for the role of Onyum Grower. These seven pods were Jenkins, Screven, Dodge, Pierce, Wayne, Long, and Laurens. The leader of Duoth’s society, who was always named Mose, appointed Duoths as stand-byes.

Montgomery32 and Candler26 mutely communicated and monitored goings on in Vydaelia. At the time the onyum patch was outside the first wall constructed by the Drelves.

There was not a lot of variation in Onyum Growers’ names, but the numbers after the names differed quite a bit. The Candler nameline had been more fortunate than Montgomery, but both fared better Bacons. There had been 98 Bacons. It seemed Unduothers had a particular fondness for Bacon.

Observers in far away galaxies witnessed the supernova explosion that obliterated Sagain. More than stardust remained after the World of Sorcery exploded. An irregular gray stone and thin purple staff floated through space. Searching…

Several roguish easterners gathered around the dwarf.

The gruffest easterner said, “You aren’t from around here are you shortie?”

“I’ve heard that dwarves are sneaky little cowards,” another added.

“I’m thirsty. Why don’t you buy us, drinks?” another said.

Nigel finished his bartering, rushed over to Boomer, and spoke to the easterners.

“Fellows, please don’t take advantage of my servant. He is mentally challenged and can only perform simple tasks. Here, go have some drinks,” Nigel said and gave the burly men a handful of Dakin.

Those same Dakin had resided in the easterners’ pockets a few moments earlier. Nigel’s pick pocketing skills were second to none.

“He does look rather pitiful,” the first easterner said as he looked at Boomer.

Nigel continued, “Yes. There’s no sport in picking on him. I‘ll have him clean up after your horses. Go. Enjoy yourselves.”

The easterner slapped Nigel on the back,  laughed, and walked away.

Boomer was steaming as he said, “Dawg gone you, Louffette!! You’re lucky I promised Knarra and Cara not to fight unless I had too. I’m fixing to kick your butt!”

Nigel laughed. He watched the easterners walk away and then untied the reins of their horses from the stable, slapped the animals on the rear, and shooed the animals to freedom.

Eomore said, “The lair of the Banshee΄ lies south of the Dark Elves’ lands in the Lachinor. There is a mound of soil…oh, my…there is Evil…I feel It! It feels me! It hurts! It really hurts! Knarra you must reveal your lineage. You must curse your mother! You must yield to your fate!”

The Chalice of Mystery overpowered the room with green light. Intense auras filled the room. Green smoke billowed from the empty Chalice.

“Clear your mind! The potion has empowered you with Magick! You are using Magick!” Roscoe urged.

Boomer went to the fourth pile of rocks.

“Ouch! I’m snake bit!” the dwarf shouted.

Eyerthrein proudly translated, “That’s a colloquialism that means he has bad luck.”

“No, it means I’m snake bit!” Boomer insisted.

He fell down and convulsed violently.

Kyrsstina waved her hand and dispelled the Invisibility Spell. The little viper was about to bite Cyttia.

Bad mistake!

Cyttia’s Drelvish boot squashed the purple viper. If anyone had measured the little snake, he would have found that it was thirteen inches long.

Eyerthrein cast Cure Poison on Boomer but the dwarf continued to convulse.

“He’s in big trouble!” Eyerthrein screamed.

“My spell is no different from yours!” Knarra said in a worried voice.

Erinnia knelt down, uttered an elfish phrase, and touched the wound with a sprig of mistletoe. The dwarf’s convulsions stopped; his labored breathing returned to normal. The druidical Neutralize Poison Spell had been effective.

Boomer sat up and without hesitation quipped, “Go on ahead and check out that next pile of rocks, Nigel.”

Envision a naive young man beguiled, robbed, and ridiculed by a beautiful sorceress. Imagine the young man became the greatest assassin that ever lived.  See in your mind’s eye an assassin consumed by hatred of all things Magick and committed to their destruction. Through the power of a True Wish the assassin creates an artifact of great power to assist his quest.  The assassin wishes for more time and a labyrinth to keep his treasure forever secure. Imperfect wording of his second Wish allows an arduous path to the assassin’s treasure, the Death of Magick.