“People often mistake confidence for arrogance. The difference is simple. Arrogance refuses to be questioned. I welcome it. If your argument is better than mine, you’ve done me a favor. If it isn’t... then at least you’ve made the conversation less boring.”

- Valen

Magic was never a gift to be owned, nor a river to be endlessly drained. It was a current that flowed through every mountain, every forest, every ocean, and every living soul. Those who wished to wield it did so only through balance, offering something of equal worth in return. A healer surrendered years of their own vitality to mend another’s wounds. Druids nourished barren fields with their own blood before asking the earth for a harvest. Great enchantments demanded precious metals returned to the mountains, songs offered to the wind, or memories surrendered to the stars.

As civilizations flourished, so too did their hunger for greater magic. Kings desired armies that never tired. Scholars chased forbidden knowledge. Wizards sought spells capable of reshaping reality itself. In time, brilliant minds discovered ways to postpone the required offering—to borrow first and repay later. Then they learned to hide the cost altogether. Eventually, they convinced themselves there had never been a price to begin with.

Generation after generation, magic was taken without repayment.

The debt grew.

Invisible. Silent. Forgotten.

Until one day, the world quietly began collecting what it was owed.