We made our way into the witch's den.

The whole arrangement was like a maze made of web and dust. It's airs were that of a knowledge long dead and forgotten.

When the otherworlders had first appeared in the realm they brought the system with them.

With the system came a magic that could be manipulated with ease.

A spread sheet and skill tree of points assigned gives you control over powers that shouldn't be that rudimentary.

Of a power that should be respected, not toyed with. Not manipulated in the manner that we do now.

Drunk with power we play with our systems like a boy plays with a game. Tweaking a system in numerous ways all for that extra bit of damage.

But can you blame us?

For we knew no better.

This began the destruction of old magic.

Magic cannot be destroyed but it can be forgotten.

Like a religion without followers.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Its power lays dormant and hungry for the hearts of man to allow it in.

But the hearts of men now lie in the grips of the system. In that of a gratification that comes with ease.

In these musty halls in which horns of creatures that told of monstrosities, eyes the size of heads, skulls made of pure ebony darkness, I was reminded of the mysteries of our realm.

Not everything has been discovered.

We adventurers only scratch the surface and never delve deeper than necessary.

We don't attune ourselves with the land, we farm spots that are known to drop powerful items.

We've lost ourselves on the search for power in order to obtain glory.

A boom shattered the halls, causing old tomes to spill from shelves that looked as if they grew from the walls, appendages of the house, not ornaments but a living piece of a bigger living piece.

Hurry it up.

Don't touch my trash.

It may look like treasure in the eyes of fools, but it's not worth the precious time that you poor wanders can't afford.

Lilly and Rose stopped their playing by the skull of a massive troll. Fredrick stopped his perusing of the tomes, Shelly placed the bone rapier down.

And I left my thoughts alone.

A cloud of mist appeared over everything but a path down the hall into the further reaches of the hut.

I looked at the rest of the party with a glance of trepidation.

I guess it's this way.

They nodded and regrouped into a tight nit ball as we moved into the blackness of the hall which hummed of an ancient, ambiguous power.

Does evil or good await us?

Is there a difference?

Does it matter?

The worst question then entered my mind.

Do we even have a choice?