Fantasy is, at its best, the purest access to storytelling that we have. It universalizes a tale, it evokes wonder and timeless narrative power, it touches upon inner journeys, it illuminates our collective and individual pasts, throws a focus beam on the present day, and presages the dangers and promises of the future.

What man would dare believe that all he planned might come to pass?

A hand fought best when it made a fist.

One man sees a riselka: his life forks there.  Two men see a riselka: one of them shall die.  Three men see a riselka: one is blessed, one forks, one shall die. One woman sees a riselka: her path comes clear to her.  Two women see a riselka: one of them shall bear a child.  Three women see a riselka: one is blessed, one is clear, one shall bear a child.

We salvage what we can, what truly matters to us, even at the gates of despair.

It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree

Men made wagers with their judgment, their allegiances, their resources.