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Tag: fantasy, magic

I grabbed back at him just as incautiously with my hand and my magic both, even as he pressed magic on me from his side as well. His breath huffed out sharply, and our workings caught on one another, magic gushing into them.

Kulwar Wolters, a gloved man I suspect to be a Cliothaum, can and could be anywhere.Cliothaumy’s an illegal skill, rare and hard to learn. It lets you burn memory to twist the world in certain ways. The more you use it, the less you know why. Magic never gives you anything back, there’s always a trick. Kulwar Wolters used it rarely, if at all. But his fingertips were burnt, I think.

Like wine, Provençal magic had its own distinctive terroir. It was rich and chaotic and romantic. It was a night-magic, confabulated out of moons and silver, wine and blood, knights and fairies, wind and rivers and forests. It concerned itself with good and evil but also with the vast intermediate realm in between, the realm of mischief.

Diana Wynne Jones

…and said grace in Welsh. It was all rolling, thundering language.

The only magic that’s left in the world right now is the magic that we make ourselves, deliberately. You’re not going to stumble over enchantment by chance. You have to be open to it, looking for it, and when you first think you might have glimpsed it, you have to will it into your life with every machination available to you.

But leave us some magic in the world. Leave us some mystery to enjoy.

I grabbed back at him just as incautiously with my hand and my magic both, even as he pressed magic on me from his side as well. His breath huffed out sharply, and our workings caught on one another, magic gushing into them.

Kulwar Wolters, a gloved man I suspect to be a Cliothaum, can and could be anywhere.Cliothaumy’s an illegal skill, rare and hard to learn. It lets you burn memory to twist the world in certain ways. The more you use it, the less you know why. Magic never gives you anything back, there’s always a trick. Kulwar Wolters used it rarely, if at all. But his fingertips were burnt, I think.

Like wine, Provençal magic had its own distinctive terroir. It was rich and chaotic and romantic. It was a night-magic, confabulated out of moons and silver, wine and blood, knights and fairies, wind and rivers and forests. It concerned itself with good and evil but also with the vast intermediate realm in between, the realm of mischief.

Diana Wynne Jones

…and said grace in Welsh. It was all rolling, thundering language.

The only magic that’s left in the world right now is the magic that we make ourselves, deliberately. You’re not going to stumble over enchantment by chance. You have to be open to it, looking for it, and when you first think you might have glimpsed it, you have to will it into your life with every machination available to you.

But leave us some magic in the world. Leave us some mystery to enjoy.