Mages aren’t popular. Magic is an unnatural force, one that defies the laws of nature and science, and gives power to the deserving and undeserving alike. All it takes is a knife. Spells are cut into the skin, etched into the flesh, and then expended in a flash like fire, burning it away and setting it loose into the world. Great things have been done with spells. They have also been used to commit atrocity. But mostly, they’re the source of mistakes.
One of these is a city, renamed Neverspring some eighty years ago. Situated on the shore of Lake Erie, it boasts an attractive port for the shipping industry, a bustling downtown, the largest library in the state, and a curse that plunged the entire city into perpetual winter. No one knows how it happened, but the shockwaves echo to this day, stirring up currents of power that eddy in the streets along with the snow.
It is a very attractive city for mages. There is power for the taking, a high concentration of practicioners, and most importantly: everyone wears long sleeves year-round. For a mage with spells cut into their arms, this makes it easy to hide.
And hiding is important. Mages control this city, from the shadows, exerting their own push and pull on the frost-bitten populace. And over all of this looms the curse, shivering with power, waiting to blanket the city in snow and ice and the aftershocks of a spell gone horribly, horribly wrong.
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License: Community License