The Almanack of Spellsinger Arcus of the Ether

INTRODUCTION

I grew up in silence. Didn’t speak much past my second birthday. While I dwelled among the Void Disciples, shy and meek, learning my magic, often I beheld the prodigies far sorcerers had wrought in cloud and hill, freshets in ancient woods— and figured out that wizards had begot these wonders by chanting aloud. I stood two miles from home. My half-remembered words pulled through me, and the mighty sacred force of elements invested me. I heard my voice rise to a fever-pitch. The course of rivers changed, descant over my song remembered from my mother, waiting long in starlight as the Hunt wheeled overhead and calling to my brothers. Secretly she lilted, rocking me in arms. The dread of exile didn’t faze her, and in me the music settled, wrapping round my bones, just waiting for this moment. Then I knew I’d leave the vale, to speak, and sing, alone. Magic bears us like flotsam, doesnt rue our sorrows and misfortunes. I have seen the mighty kings and hedge mages and ghasts and written down their stories. Now I mean to share my own discoveries at last— a little of my life. Brave tales to tell with noble verse, and every tuneful spell.

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