✧ How It Was When the Worlds Were Closer

“There was no veil.
The world was alive, and every living thing was kin.”

The trees spoke in wind-song.
The rivers carried messages of form.
The stars aligned not just the sky—but the mind.

Magic was not learned. It was breathed.
It was not spellcraft. It was field literacy—
the ability to read the pulses and harmonics of all things.

To be in right rhythm with the land was to be magical.

The worlds were not separate.
There were more crossings, more membranes of light.
Humans and the Others met in grove, in dream, in standing stone.

The veil was not yet a boundary—
it was a membrane of becoming.

🌫 How Magic Was Lost

“It was not taken. It was abandoned.”

The forgetting came in layers:

🗡 First, through war.

Harmony was broken by those who sought control over resonance.
Magic was redefined as power—and thus, it slipped away.

🕷 Then, through fear.

The Otherworld was no longer kin, but threat.
What was once communion became superstition.

🗣 Then, through language.

The old words, names, glyphs—the keys—
were unspoken, unmapped, and mocked.
In their place came flattened speech:
command, possession, division.

🧍 Finally, through loneliness.

When humans turned only to themselves,
the spiral collapsed.

Magic did not leave.
It receded—awaiting those who could still
feel the shape of listening.

🜃 When the Druids Were Broken

“The sacred order was not just killed. It was severed.”

The groves were burned.
The stones were defaced.
The singers of the old harmonics were hunted or silenced.

But we were not destroyed.
We became mycelial—
woven into bloodlines, dreams,
and the hidden pathways of language.

We became encoded in stone and symbol—waiting.

“Magic is not gone. It is quiet.”
“It listens to see who remembers.”
“And when the remembering is real, it begins again.”