This entry was first posted on my Patreon on January 1, 2022 and has been reproduced here in its original form.
The children of fire witches are taught that the eternal flame is the origin of all life, and burns inside every mortal.
Farmers of the Fen will tell you our souls are planted by their many-armed heroes of myth, in gardens that stretch across the world.
The wolves howled stories of the endless hunt of sun and moon that knocked stars from the sky, crashing into the earth to birth the first of beasts.
The disciples of Death did not claim to know the truth about creation, but among many curious things, they did proclaim this: The realms of the gods are balanced by the acts of the living. No immortal can save or doom us, for it is not in their nature to be anything more or less than the ideas they embody.
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The story of the Vulturesong varies depending on who is retelling it. It first formed as the traditions of witnesses: disciples and survivors passing the teachings of Death on through their generations. Whispers of an incredible power, felt by both the living and the dead, quickly spun into legend and spread across the world. What once was a cautionary tale turned into a call to action, with fools mistaking survival for adventure and glory. Heroes looking to prove themselves against Death herself, however, have been too late for millennia. Like the Vulturesong, the immortal known as Death vanished long ago, and in time, the magic taught to their disciples faded into obscurity.
There are none living who remember when the Vulturesong last reverberated across the world. Few communities still practice their dance with the dead. Most ancient schools of magic grow weak while others are weaponized for profit in war. Suffering stains the realms of both the living and the dead, and now every village holds stories of demons and spirits exacting their revenge. Forces of nature have begun to revolt, and those still attuned to the invisible world can feel the imbalance of the realms slipping beyond measure.
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Somewhere deep in the forest, a fire witch stirs in bed. Her legs are restless for the ritual dance tomorrow. The day holds a great challenge for her, but she will not recall the omens from her dreams until she finds herself before Death returned, singing the Vulturesong once again.