Once wild magic shattered human civilization. Mage-built cities collapsed, spell-sped galleons sank, airships fell from the skies. Magic-born chimerae turned on their creators, and then their neighbors. The peoples of Awrhee fell into barbarism.
But that was generations ago. Humanity has scraped together kingdoms again, and learned to live without magic. Those who practice spellcraft are eyed with suspicion, as are the old ways, and the old places.
Some, however, seek treasure in the ruins of what was. Knowledge, gold, power—it’s out there. Treasure untold for anyone clever enough to find it, bold enough to take it, fast enough to get away with it.
It’s out there, in the Spell-Wracked Lands.
Flame Isfree and the Feather of Fate V
A Serial Story by KD Sarge
A chill rain fell as the group walked within a growing stream of traffic, all headed for the tall white walls smudged with murk. At the sound of thudding hoofbeats from behind, Flame jumped out of the way of a galloping horseman and while she was in the ditch stooped for a mudball to fling at his back. She thought the smear improved his blue cloak. Ryahled didn’t; he scowled at her. She grinned back, wiped her glove on a passing wagon. Kessa looked from him to her and didn’t speak. Again. Flame poked her.
“What is gnawing on you, little one?” Though Flame was smaller in …