“Fire is the oldest spell.”
They sat atop the hill, just behind Bel’s palace, across a circle of bare earth where Bel had cut away the sod. A little pile of tinder sat at the center of the circle. The night air was cool and pleasant as always, though in the world outside the seasons had turned. Samhain had come and gone, with feasting and bonfires and ceremonies not unlike Lughnasadh. The village’s rituals did change with the seasons, yet some things remained the same. Here, though, the seasons didn’t pass any more than the days did, and all was always the same.
“There are tales of men stealing fire from the gods, and they are not entirely false. Fire is a thing of great power, even when lit by ordinary flint. But fire is also simple, easy to perform for the beginning magus.” He smiled a
