Chapter Text
Many scholars tried to record the fall of magic. Tried and failed
When magic left, it tore away something nameless and fleeting, but integral nonetheless. Like the whole world plunged into a deep and inescapable darkness, a black shroud wrapped tightly around the very heart of humanity itself, concealing all light and mirth within its inhospitable embrace.
It felt as though all hope was lost. But as the passage of time continued, so did those who lived in the violent absence of that which once flowed bountifully in their veins. All who had known magic, be it as a friend, mentor, or guardian, had long fallen, their names nothing but memories scrawled onto their desolate graves.
Aeons spun by, till all that was once revered, once loved and celebrated, fell swiftly to legend, leaving nothing to remind the inhabitants of earth, save for a small, ever-present, unshakable sense of loss.
Until some five hundred years ago, when the great slumbering heart of magic began to stir.