Peter glanced up at the stars and a wicked smile lit his face. "Time to play," he whispered to the stars and winked. And the stars winked back, for Peter's smile is a most contagious thing.

Then let us go and be terrible.

But Peter had seen too much, knew too well that men-kind didn't need an excuse to be cruel and murder one another.

My tale doesn't end there, for the end has yet to be written.

Burn? Smite? Punish? Why is your god so intolerant? So jealous? Why must there be only one god? Why is there not room for many?

Men-kind shared this world for but a blink, then, sadly, they became enlightened, found science and religion. The new world of men left little room for magic or the magical creatures of old. Earth’s first children were driven into the shadows by flame and cold iron, by man’s insatiable need of conquest.

Don't let them win. Don't let them beat you. Don't let them steal your magic.