Hugh J. O'Donnell

She was considered something of an epicurean among magic users. She hated brewing her potions and elixirs in big iron cauldrons, as was customary.
Not content to reproduce formulae from grimoires, she could usually be found in her kitchen, studying and practicing.
She sought out other methods, and mastered techniques that she claimed were faster, easier, and produced better effects. She infused reagents using the Sous Vide method, and developed serious knife skills for chopping herbs.
The traditionalist witches claimed that experimentation would only lead her to ruin, but she became well known for the effectiveness of her witch’s roux.

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He was captured and enslaved by giants when they raided his village. He was still a child when they carried him off, and thus they thought him pliable.
At first, they put him to work in the mines, but he showed an aptitude for cleverness, so they taught him to brew potions and mix blasting powder.
He kept his head down and cringed with every quaking footstep as his masters walked past, and they thought him cowed.
He waited, and watched. And when he was ready, it only took one properly placed charge to bring their whole mountain tumbling down.

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The ancient Greeks believed the world was held aloft by the titan Altas. As scholars discovered the sciences and learned more about the world, humanity abandoned this belief.
But human belief is a powerful thing, and gods don’t vanish in a puff of smoke.
The titan held his sphere aloft, tirelessly spinning the Earth. It was another perfect day. Suddenly, it seemed to him that he blinked, and rather than standing at the center of Creation, he was passing through it. Rather quickly.
He struggled to hold on as the discovery of gravity suddenly accelerated the Earth to 108,000 kph.

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The ritual is held every year out in the Bluesand Desert. Witches from all over the kingdom gather to be a part of it.
In ancient times, the rite was held beneath the rising Greenbud Moon. Over time, as word of the event spread to the non-magical community, it was moved to the day. Viewing stands were erected in the dunes. The ritual became a spectator sport.
Broomstick in hand, Sol waited for the starting signal. She lowered her goggles over her eyes and grinned. The Great Flying Race was about to begin. This year would mark her tenth victory.

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Whenever we went through a hyperspace gate, I marveled at their size. Each was the size of a moon. They were so large that most of them had breathable atmospheres supporting life. The gates themselves were constantly flowing with traffic, and a hundred cargo vessels of our size could easily pass through one at the same time.
“Why’d they make the gates so big?” I asked as we passed below the verdant landscape of a stabilizing ring. Isn’t it a huge waste of resources?”
The captain smiled. “Did I ever tell you the old Earth legend of the ‘Ever Given’?”

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“Tell me about Prometheus,” she said.
I cleared my throat and tried to calm my nerves. “Prometheus was a titan who loved humanity and stole Fire from the gods.”
“Any child could tell me that,” she snapped. “What makes this meeting worth my time?”
“The question is, what is Fire?” I asked back.
“In some legends, he taught mankind how to make and tame it. In others, it stands for that certain spark that allows Civilization to flourish.”
I unrolled the map and shook my head. “The Fire of the Gods is real. And I know where Prometheus hid it.”

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The light, nimble pirate craft circled the wounded airship. Its envelope was already leaking helium at a prodigious rate, and it wouldn’t be long now.
The leader took another shot, ripping another hole and guiding the ship down towards the target area. The ground crew waited in the clearing below, ready to separate the passengers from their valuables.
Aboard the slowly sinking ship, the crew was paralyzed, caught between trying to fight off the attack and repair the damage before they hit the ground.
The pirate leader smiled. He always found it easiest to let gravity do the hard work.

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