The Lore of Magus Ilyas of the Swell

Lost I was within the ocean swells that near-capsized me. I began to pray that if I passed alive through soaking hell I wold serve the greater good for all my days; think not of pleasure or profit. When the storm spit me onto the shore, I wept with thanks and walked into a tavern to get warm. A mug of ale, a hearth with embers, lost in thought. A fire is more than opposite of water. It creates new life. The whole world is a lonely shore, like water, coursing through trickles and spates. To burn, to toil and spin my tale. Pondering whether to throw myself into the sacred flame.

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