A short story/prologue about magic and the old religions.
|Long ago, millenia before humanity, the gods lived among the stars, and with them lived magic. Using this energy they wielded, they created life on our Earth, one form at a time, from the smallest blade of grass to the great oak trees, the tiny ants that travelled the land to the blue whale that traversed the vast oceans. Nature and magic were interwoven, existed in harmony, and for years, there was peace.
Then humanity arrived.
That is not to say that they disrupted the balance of this magic on purpose, nor that they did not try to embrace the gods. On the contrary, in fact. For the Egyptians worshipped Isis, the Greeks learnt the ways of Hekate and Circe, and the Romans admired Diana and Trivia. Just as beloved were Freya, Gwydion, Odin, the Triple Goddess, Ceridwen, and so many others whose names lie forgotten in history. Indeed, for a long time, magic prospered in our world, it became fundamental to our lives. But then They came.
Convinced of their own superiority over religions that had lived together since their creation, They belittled our beliefs, outlawed our practises, and tried to destroy any hint that the gods - the gods who had stood by our side since before our ancestors’ birth - had ever even existed, leaving their memory as nothing more than folk tales, myths, legends of a time They wanted forgotten to make way for their supposedly perfect God.
And so, Their religion grew - by force or by choice, it is hard to tell, but it is not as if our people would speak out against the power that then dominated society, a power that could control life or death by manipulating the thoughts of the masses - and They succeeded in their quest: the gods loved by us all had been forgotten.
Or so They thought.
For hidden behind masks of ignorance and complicity, there were a few who survived, a small number of us who remembered what had been lost to time. We did not want to worship this god who destroyed, this god who knew all, but judged based on obedience, this god who was supposed to save us all, and yet let children die before their first winter. No, we did not want this so-called perfection.
Despite attempts to disparage our craft, shouts that we practised the Devil’s work, cries that we murdered children in the night, yells that we were thieves and liars and went against all that was good, we persevered. We persisted through the struggles, and we upheld our faith, standing firm against the slaughtering of our number, the darkest of our times. We spent our years together, for together we were strengthened, and even as our lesser numbers continued to disrupt it, we maintained the balance between the forces of magic and nature, embracing the olde ways as we always had, and always would.
They might have believed us destroyed, but They were wrong.
For even if we survived in the shadows and the night, we still survived.
After all, the night held the stars, our light, and for as long as the skies held that reminder that we had the gods above-
Magic would never be truly forgotten.