Mystics Unbound

Introduction

"To wield magic is to confront the most unsettling truth: nothing is permanent, and everything can be broken."

— Marcus Moreau, Matter mage

To be a mage is to exist on the edge of reality, where the laws of the world are mere suggestions. They see past illusions, perceiving the raw essence of magic itself. With a thought, they can unravel existence- reshape stone to ash, manipulate time, or twist nature to their will. But magic does not yield without cost. Every spell is an act of defiance, a challenge to the foundations of the world, and the world does not suffer such defiance lightly.

The Salem Ritual shattered the delicate balance that once tethered magic, leaving it wilder, more volatile, and infinitely more dangerous. The old covens fell, their sanctuaries reduced to ruins, their secrets scattered like ash in a storm. Those who survived are fractured, hunted, and desperate- rogue scholars seeking knowledge from a forgotten age, warlocks driven to madness, sorcerers ready to tear reality apart to reclaim what was stolen.

Here, on the edge of oblivion, the mages bear the crushing weight of knowledge. Their greatest gift has become their most damning flaw, and as the remnants of their order fade into legend, the haunting question remains: can the light of magic ever be reclaimed, or is the cost of its power destined to consume all?

Custodians of Magic

Mages have always existed, a hidden, enigmatic force burdened with knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. Where others see the mundane- a flowing river, a sturdy tree, the steady passage of time- a mage discerns what lies beneath: raw potential, the very essence holding the world together. For them, magic is not a mere theory, but a living, pulsating force that whispers its secrets to those born with the sight.

From birth, magic dances at the tips of their fingers, teasing the senses with forbidden wonder. Yet, such a gift carries a price few can bear. What begins as a great boon can quickly become an overwhelming storm, consuming both body and mind. Forever standing on the razor’s edge, mages learn early that to harness magic is to walk a fine line between brilliance and destruction. Each spark of arcane power holds the potential for both creation and ruin, and every mage must navigate this perilous path, ever mindful that the very gift they cherish may one day unravel them.

Mages In History

The Age of Wonders

Before magic became a thing to be feared, there was an age when it flowed freely and without restrains. In these early days, mages walked among mortals as sages, healers, and architects of miracles. Their influence was woven into the fabric of civilization, not hidden in its shadows.

The laws of reality had not yet solidified, and magic was far less constrained than it came to be. Wyld Surges were mild, little more than ripples in the fabric of existence, easily brushed aside by those who understood the currents of the unseen. Without the need for strict attunement, mages could weave spells with greater flexibility, drawing from the full spectrum of magic, unbound by a single pillar.

Pagan societies, steeped in reverence for the mysteries of the world, embraced mages as custodians of knowledge and power. They held places of honor- advisors to rulers, healers of the sick, interpreters of the will of gods and spirits. Early covens, though not secretive like those of later centuries, gathered to preserve knowledge, push the boundaries of magic, and bridge the gap between mortals and the unseen forces that shaped their world.

But such freedom was not destined to last.

The Legacy of the Diviners

Among all mages, none were as revered- or as feared- as the diviners. They were the seers, the oracles, those who could glimpse into the ever-shifting tides of fate. Unlike other mages who shaped the present, diviners bore witness to what was yet to come, perceiving fragments of destiny woven into the fabric of reality.

Their legacy stretches back to the earliest days of human civilization. The ancient shamans of Siberia, the augurs of Rome, and the star-gazing astrologers of Mesopotamia all shared the same gift. Figures such as Pythia, the Delphic Oracle, were not mere myth but true diviners whose visions altered the course of history. Yet, as magic evolved, diviners became increasingly rare, a mystery even to mages themselves. Some believed the shifting nature of magic itself made foresight unreliable, while others whispered that something, or someone, had ensured their decline.

The Age of Dominance

As civilizations flourished and knowledge deepened, magic ceased to be the domain of solitary sages or revered mystics. It became an art to be studied, a force to be refined. With the discovery of attunement, mages realized that magic had structure and laws that could be understood, as well as risks that could be mitigated. The days of unchecked freedom had come to an end, and with this revelation came a question that would shape the future: How should magic be wielded?

Attunement- aligning oneself to one of the Four Pillars of Magic- was the breakthrough that allowed mages to control their power without risking the catastrophic chaos of Wyld Surges. By attuning themselves to Matter, Spirit, Continuum, or Chaos, mages could access the full depth of magic within a structured framework. Yet, even with this mastery came a cost. To stray beyond one's attuned pillar invited disastrous consequences. It was a delicate balance between control and destruction.

Some saw magic as a gift to be safeguarded, others as a power to be mastered. Some believed magic was an extension of the natural world, while others sought to understand its every secret. These differences led to the formation of the first covens; groups of mages bound by philosophy, each forging its own path in an age of discovery.

The Five Great Covens

As the pursuit of magic grew more structured, five great covens emerged, each representing a distinct philosophy on the nature of magicand its role in the world. Though smaller covens existed, most aligned themselves with one of these great orders, drawn to their guiding tenets and influence. Unlike what many might assume, these covens were not divided by the Four Pillars of Magic. Mages understood the need for versatility, and each coven housed those attuned to different aspects of magic, unified not by their power but by their purpose.

The Eternal Axis

"Magic is not a gift. It is not a curse. It is a language, waiting to be learned. And like any language, those who refuse to study it are doomed to be ruled by those who do.

— from the archives of Erasmus, last Archscribe of the Eternal Axis

The Eternal Axis believed that magic could be studied, recorded, and taught. They sought to catalog all magical knowledge, establishing vast archives and developing methods of structured teaching. For them, mastery of magic was not a matter of birthright but of study. Their libraries housed some of the greatest collections of magical lore ever amassed- until the fire consumed the Library of Alexandria. With that fire, the Eternal Axis was lost, but their legacy endured in the scattered remnants of their archives, and in the methods of study they pioneered.

The Silent Order

"We do not seek recognition, nor do we crave power. We are the quiet hands that safeguard magic from those who would corrupt it, and from those who would be consumed by it."

— Elynor Veyne, Oathkeeper of the Silent Order

Where the Eternal Axis sought to share knowledge, the Silent Order sought to guard it. To them, magic was dangerous in the wrong hands, and its secrets were not meant for all. They operated in the shadows, their presence felt more in whispered warnings and unseen interventions than in open displays of power. Some viewed them as zealots, hoarding magic to preserve their own influence, while others saw them as necessary sentinels against reckless ambition. In the wake of the Eternal Axis's fall, the Silent Order endured, their secrecy ensuring their survival through the ages.

The Verdant Chorus

"To sever magic from the world is to silence the song of the earth. We do not command magic; we listen."

— Mireille, Verdant Shaman

To the Verdant Chorus, magic was not a force to be controlled, but a current to be harmonized with. They believed that magic was deeply entwined with nature and the unseen forces that shaped the world. Their practices were rooted in ritual, attunement to the land, and a profound respect for the natural order. Many of their greatest mages were revered as shamans and druids, able to listen to and guide the flow of magic in harmony with the world around them. Though they held great wisdom, their rejection of control and systematization often brought them into conflict with the more rigid philosophies of other covens.

The Ashen Circle

“Power is neither good nor evil; it is the weight of your will pressing against the world. The only sin is hesitating to use it.”

— Vaelor Maxwell, Magister of the Ashen Circle

Where other covens saw magic as sacred, the Ashen Circle viewed it as a tool- one to be honed, refined, and wielded with precision. They did not shy away from magic's destructive potential; they embraced it, believing that power belonged only to those strong enough to seize it. Feared and often reviled, the Ashen Circle produced some of the most ruthless and brilliant mages in history. Rulers sought their counsel, but always at a price, for the Ashen Circle did not serve others- they served only power itself, and would use any means necessary to expand it.

The Harbringers

"There is a truth beneath all things, hidden in the marrow of the world. You fear it because you do not understand it. I fear it because I do."

— Oracle Cassian, Harbinger Sorcerer

The Harbingers were those who dared to peer where others refused. Often dismissed as doom-sayers or misguided prophets, they sought the unfathomable secrets of existence. While some among them were oracles and diviners, others reached out to forces that could not be controlled, seeking knowledge others feared to touch. The Harbingers did not seek power or balance. They sought the truth, no matter how terrible, no matter how destructive. Feared by many and misunderstood by most, they were the keepers of knowledge that could unravel the world; knowledge that few were prepared to face.

With the rise of the covens, magic entered an era of structure and dominion. The greatest of these covens, the Eternal Axis, believed magic could be mastered- its knowledge should be written, shared, and preserved for future generations. Their crowning achievement was the Library of Alexandria, which housed the greatest archive of magical understanding ever assembled. It was here, in this vast sanctuary of knowledge, that their downfall began.

When the fires came, they did not merely consume scrolls and stone. The world remembers an accident, an act of war, or the blindness of time. But mages know the truth: the destruction of the library was no mere accident. It was the work of Ozymandias, a chaos mage whose pursuit of power reshaped the course of history. In the aftermath, Chaos magic was declared forbidden, its practitioners hunted, its secrets almost lost to time.

For centuries, the remaining covens adapted, bending with the shifting tides of power. The Ashen Circle thrived, entwining themselves with rulers and faiths, pulling the strings of kings and emperors. The Silent Order worked in the shadows, ensuring the knowledge that remained did not fall into the wrong hands. The Verdant Chorus retreated into the wild places, safeguarding their sacred rites. And the Harbingers, ever shunned, whispered of a reckoning that none wished to hear.

But for now, the world belonged to the mages. They had suffered their first great wound, but they still stood.

They did not yet know that their true downfall was only beginning.

The Age of the Inquistions

The balance between the covens had always been uneasy, but by the time of the Inquisitions, it had become a fragile thing held together by necessity. The Ashen Circle had long understood that power did not belong to those who wielded magic, but to those who dictated its use. Where others clung to their ancient ways, the Ashen Circle adapted, entwining itself with the rulers of the time, whispering in the ears of kings, priests, and warlords alike. Kings sought their wisdom, empires rose and fell beneath their guidance, and for centuries, magic remained a force entwined with power. But beneath this veil of dominion, something was shifting.

The common folk had always feared mages, but it was no longer the reverence of old. They saw them as something beyond their reach, wielders of forces no mortal should command. Magic was an unseen force that could shape reality with a mere thought, while those without it could do nothing but watch. And what cannot be understood will always be feared.

The Ashen Circle, in its arrogance, failed to see the danger lurking within its own designs. Entwined with the great faiths of the age, it sought to rid itself of rivals, turning doctrine into a weapon. Pagan traditions, the rites of the Verdant Chorus, and the last embers of Chaos magic were branded heresy. The pyres were lit, the hunts began, but the Ashen Circle had miscalculated.

The purge they had engineered did not stop with the Verdant Chorus.

Once the flames were set, they did not burn selectively. Faith turned against all magic. It was not only the witches and the heretics who were dragged to the stake, but the sorcerers in their gilded halls, the diviners in the temples, and the healers in their sanctuaries. The very kings the Ashen Circle had advised now called for their destruction.

The Inquisitions had begun.

The Ashen Circle

For the Silent Order: “They hide in the shadows, too cautious to act, but their knowledge is a necessary evil.”

For the Verdant Chorus: “Their magic is wild and untamed, but they are too soft to survive the coming storm.”

For the Harbingers: “The ravings of madmen, hopelessly lost in their own prophecies. They do not understand the true nature of power.”

The Silent Order

For the Ashen Circle: “Their ambition blinds them. They’ve allied with the very forces that wish to burn us all.”

For the Verdant Chorus: “Their love for the natural world blinds them to the dangers of meddling with forces they cannot control.”

For the Harbingers: “They have seen too much of the darkness, and now they are consumed by it. They know nothing but doom.”

The Verdant Chorus

For the Ashen Circle: “They have sold their souls for power. Their hands are stained with the blood of those they once called kin.”

For the Silent Order: “They guard secrets as if they are the only ones worthy. But knowledge alone will not save us.”

For the Harbingers: “Their warnings were never heeded. Now, their doom is our own.”

The Harbingers

For the Ashen Circle: “Power will devour them. They do not see what is coming.”

For the Silent Order: “Their silence will not save them. They are too removed from the world to understand its true peril.”

For the Verdant Chorus: “Their trust in the world’s harmony will be their undoing. The balance they cherish is already broken.”

For the first time in history, magic became a crime. Those who had once shaped the world found themselves hunted, gutted, and silenced. Those who resisted burned. Those who begged for mercy burned. Those who hid were rooted out. And they burned.

In the end, the Silent Order, once a mere guardian of secrets, became the last refuge of mages. It was they who laid down the only law that could save their kind:

Meddle with humanity no longer.

From that moment forward, mages became ghosts. They withdrew into the forgotten places of the world, their covens diminished, their numbers shattered. The Ashen Circle, once the most powerful, was left broken by its own ambition. The Verdant Chorus became little more than whispers in the wilds. The Harbingers- always cast aside, always unheard- now spoke of an ending that no one was left to listen to.

The Inquisitions did not destroy magic, but they ended an era.

Mages survived.

And for a long time, that was all they could do.

The Age of War

"The earth does not mourn for the dead. It mourns for what we have forgotten: the balance that once was, the harmony we shattered with our own hands. Now, even the roots twist in fear of what we have unleashed."

— Aeris, Elder of the Verdant Chorus

The Inquisitions had broken them. Their numbers dwindled, their great sanctuaries reduced to little more than ruins and whispers. But as the Immortals rose, the mages did what they had sworn never to do again. They gathered.

For the first time since the fall of the Eternal Axis, the scattered covens stood together. The Silent Order unearthed spells buried in time. The Verdant Chorus invoked the oldest pacts of nature. The Ashen Circle sharpened their influence into a weapon. Even the Harbingers, long dismissed as mad prophets, stepped forward- because the doom they had foreseen was here at last.

But war against monsters is not waged with steel alone. Magic, the very force they had spent centuries safeguarding, was unleashed in ways unseen since the Age of Wonders. Entire landscapes were reshaped in battle and the cost was unspeakable.

The greatest of these desperate acts was the Salem Ritual- a final gambit meant to strike at the heart of the Immortals' dominion. The mages sought to breach the barrier between the material and spiritual realms, to sever the undying from their tethered existence. Their plan was both brilliant and grim: by binding the souls of the Immortals to the spirit world, their bodies would wither and collapse in the material, forever breaking their curse. The cost? Their own magic. A sacrifice they were willing to make.

But the Inquisitions had left them scattered, fractured, and slow to act. And that delay gave way to treachery. No one knows who betrayed them; whether it was a desperate mage who feared the cost, an Immortal who had wormed their way into their ranks, or something far worse. But as the grand ritual was invoked in Salem, the mages were ambushed. Fire and blood drowned the night as the Immortals struck, tearing through the gathered spellcasters before the ritual could be completed.

When the war ended, there was no victory. The Immortals remained, the world lay in ruin, and magic had never been so unstable. Some say this was the true end of the mages, not the Inquisitions. The moment they realized that no matter their power, no matter their wisdom, they were still bound by the forces they sought to command.

And the world would never let them forget it.

The Age of Ash and Blood

When the dust settled, there was nothing left to fight for. The world was broken, and magic, once the force that shaped reality itself, had become a curse upon those who wielded it. The great covens were gone, their legacies buried beneath the ash of a ruined world.

Magic is no longer a source of power, nor a path to knowledge. It is unstable, erratic, and cruel. The Wyld Surges that once punished overreach had twisted into something worse; unpredictable, uncontrollable, a force that scarred reality itself. And worse still, magic has become a beacon. Every spell cast is a call to the horrors that linger in the wounds of the Veil, remnants of the cataclysm that could not be undone.

And so, the mages disappeared.

Some retreated into what remained of the wild places, where the Verdant Chorus, broken as they were, still whispered to the remnants of nature. Others buried themselves within the ruins of civilization, where the Ashen Circle had once woven empires. The Harbingers- if they still exist- became nothing more than myths, the last voices of a forgotten doom. The Silent Order, the last great power among mages, fractured under the weight of its own failures. They became ghosts, keeping their knowledge buried, their identities unknown, ensuring that what little magic remained would never fall into the wrong hands.

The age of power had passed.

Now, there was only silence.

In the silence of the ashes of the world, whispers speak of a diviner;
one whose gaze pierces the shattered veil, glimpsing the threads of a future yet to unfold.
It is said that this diviner carries within them the key to the restoration of magic,
a vision of what might come when the world turns once more.
A promise of what could rise from the ruins.
But this, is a story for another time.