Ryan flipped through the box of old report cards, a history book with a ripped cover and several spiral notebooks filled with notes and doodles. Feeling nostalgic Ryan picked up the red spiral notebook and began to flip through it thinking about all his high-school friends who he had rarely seen in the last decade. There was to a series of remedial math problems, some notes about the hundred years war and various doodles. But what drew his attention were a series of notes passed between himself and his best friend Jim. He hadn't talked to Jim for almost three years and considered calling his friend, but it was late so he continued to flip through the conversation in the notebooks. About halfway through the book Ryan came across one of their old games. The two would take turns predicting things about the others life. Ryan didn't remember exactly why they had stopped only that something was said that made him angry so they stopped.
Marrillo read the dusty, leather bound book slowly. He was still convinced he had made a mistake. These were the same spells and ideas wizards had been using for a thousand years and everyone said the rituals to perform magic were random. It simply wasn't possible that hundreds of wizards had spent their lives learning these spells and missed the connections. Every wizard learned from his first lesson that magic had no order or set rules. Spells were born from the chaos of the universe and the only way to discover more was through random trial and error that could take a lifetime to learn a single spell that might not even be useful. But Marrillo had found a pattern. It wasn't a clear pattern yet and he didn't understand it completely but the closer he looked the more of those small connections he saw. He already had theories on how to make a dozen different spells and he was even able to guess what they might do. It was a power that generations of wizards had dreamed of.
From time to time I visit a small park south of my hometown. It’s a fairly average park with a baseball field, a small river, picnic benches and a few miles of paths that meander through the woods. It is those paths that brought me to the park. I like to bring a small lunch and a book and wander from bench to bench. It's a way for someone who spends too much time at a computer to get outside and exercise without being to bored. Not that the park doesn’t bore me. That’s what the book is for. It’s also why I noticed something odd. Not that I really thought much about it at first. It was simply a story I told myself to keep my mind busy, but over time the other explanations began to disappear.

 A Game of Secrets

 

 

Stillon pulled the wide leather straps around his chest tight pulling his wings as flat against his body as he could stand. He then pulled on the thick, scratchy, woolen robe over his head to hide the lumps on his back. Once that was done he turned slowly in front of the mirror to make certain that there was nothing to draw attention to him. He then unlocked his door and stepped into the hallway that led to the main room of the inn.

 

He could hear the sound of the bard from down the hall but he ignored it. That his hearing was better than a humans was another one of the things he hid and he had gotten good at it. He hardly thought about the things he hid anymore. Instead he focused on the smell of baking bread and cheap ale as he sat down at the counter listening to the calming sound of music from they gray haired bard.

 

Leaving the Cave

Emma had a brief gimps of a dimension beyond our own. To her that world now feel far more real than the one she is forced to live in so she seeks to once again escape the confines of the normal world, but she fears she is being manipulated by others for reasons she doesn't know.