Dread Cycle

The first mob was the result of a simple bar fight; the second, a land dispute. Not many recall the specifics of the others, but the sources didn’t matter to them. A fight, a scuffle, a disagreement, they always ended with bloodshed.

The law was reluctant to step in fearing backlash from either side. As our numbers dwindled we withdrew to the darkest alleys and deepest holes, but still they found us. My mistake was lighting a candle—I barely escaped with my life. A thought, a gesture, a simple slip of the mind was all it took for them to pounce on us like savage beasts.

Men have always been fearful of that which they can’t control and we were the embodiment of that fear. The once honored and revered; Magi, servants of the glorious Empire, banished to the far reaches of the land where few dared dwell. There amongst creatures of horror we wait for their time of need. This is the price of our service, the price we pay for our ability to kill with our minds—our burden, our fate…

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