Entering my realm of imagination is dangorous for most. I warn you now because once you read the following, I cannot and do not garuntee, you will be the same after you complete this tale.
Many people assume that magic does not exist. Because if there is no proof human's are naturally skeptical. But what if I told you that magic is all around you even inside you hidden somewhere dark and deep within yourself? Speechless, unsure, afraid are the most popular answers I get when I ask that question. But occaisionally I do get the rare "curious". Nothing excites me more than finding a human who does not fear the unknown. My name is Nick and once upon a time I too was human. My story begins in a time when magic was strong within the world. It was woven into the fabric of society much as technology is today. No one feared it but most marveled at what it was able to accomplish. Magic could heal the sick, repair what was once broken, find that which had been lost and so much more. I was a baker's son in what is now called Great Britan. My father grew , harvested , milled and baked his own wheat from the time that he was of age. He earned well enough for me and him enough to keep a roof over our heads and food in our guts. My mother passed sometime after my birth but so soon I cannot remember her face. Father always said "Your mother had skin as smooth as cream and eyes that shone like the fiery embers of our hearth.". I assume from this that I took more after my father because my eye's were dull green and my skin was always rough and muddy from chores same as him. We lived on the sea and our home shook and trembled with every storm, the bright side to this was of course the traders. Most days when the sea was calm and the wind was strong, ships from all over came to trade for my father's bread. Once when I was not a child but not yet a man a strange man dressed in vibrant red robes came to our shore asking for my father. After they had conducted their business my father brought in a small purse filled with silver coins. I knew that we had made much money but usually when so much was given much more was taken from us. So I stared at my father puzzeled for a week, until I gained the courage to ask him what had happened. He never answeared but I found out that night when the man in red robes returned. He had sold me to this man for 50 silver pieces.