Did you know that life was a curse. Forged once long ago an ancient spell began. The world spun into existence as if part of a dance created by gods so old the sounds of their names were never formed.

There is much to this noisy world. More then you could ever know. A secret language hidden in the silence. Forgotten by the trees, that sang songs with the wind. Forgotten by the rivers and the seas, that learned to laugh and dance with the moon. Forgotten by the creatures of land whose many tongues and lips began to speak. Forgotten in the silence.

Forgotten in creation, but remembered in death. Remembered in silence.

A life time told in a single note. And a million notes to a never ending song told throughout time.

As the song of the world changed, life changed forever flowing with the sound. Slow and soft like a chilling note, icy and cold, dark and still. But even in that stillness a song can be heard. Yet the song can become bright and beaming, loud and chaotic.

It was said that in the beginning the witches were born of night. Some of the day. Some washed upon the seashore, hatched from eggs. Born of blood, born of the gods. The sun, the moon, the stars. There are many stories of the first witches. The first stories of magic. So many story's. All of which came from the very same place. That silence.

From silence we come, to silence we go.

It is said that once upon a time the great witches would trade their voices in exchange for great magic. For only in that great silence can the learn the truth of magic. A truth that can never be spoken for the laws of the world would begin to unravel. Those who break the law must forever return to silence. Forever return to death.

When the First Great Witch traded her voice it is said that she could see on forever. She knew the song of life and foresaw it's end. And yet she saw something within that end that gave her hope. The legends say that she gathered all the great Magic's of life and gifted them to her many children. She created the 13 covens and gave each a part to play in the song. For generations they passed down the magic. Until all knowledge of the song was forgotten. The ears of the witches could only hear man. The old songs were forgotten and the world became dark. The covens turned on each other and the great wars began.

It was the Blood Witch Dorna Mowndeiy who sought again the great truths of magic. But the truth was to much for her mind to bare. She broke her vow. With a dying breathe she told of a great prophecy.

Born in stillness, silence will call

Magic will change again for all

Betrayal spoken, the cursed will cry

Hidden away the truth will hide

The earth will sleep, the song will falter

Rest now Fables Green Daughter

Find the truth that silver guides

awaken the sleeping forests eyes

Boiled blood and rattled bone

Return again to the forests home

Magic will flow unto the land

When truth is spoke and silence stands

Many believed that the witch had just gone made with magic. Until one fateful winter night. When a witch is born without magic, it's born without life. Jeremiah Mowndiey held the stillborne child. His wife lay before him in the bed. She would never awaken from this rest.

The coven was in an uproar. A stillborne was a bad omen to witches. When his grandmother broke her vow of silence many witches believed the coven had been cursed by the old gods. Now he himself feared it to be true. There was only one thing he could do. He took the child deep into the Taraniel forest. He set the bundle before the oldest tree in the forest. On top of the bundle he clipped a silver medallion. An elegant M carved into the smooth surface of it. The medallion would have gone to the child when it was of age to be a witch. Proof of the coven a witch belonged to. He sat in the snow before the bundle and prayed. Prayed for the forgiveness of his elders betrayal. He cried in the night for the loss of his love. The loss of his child. He cried until darkness filled his mind. When sunlight shone again through the forest. Jeremiah awakened to find the bundle before him gone.

Jeremiah left the forest hoping his coven would be freed from the curse the night had brought. He could not have been more wrong.

For after that night no coven ever gave birth to a witch again, not for 13 years.

The coven wars dwindled but did not seise. For those who had magic became like gods. A great battle ensued between the witch covens. The blood of the covens and man alike spilled on the earth and bones met dirt. Then the great earth began to shake. It was if the mountain were singing and the trees began to bend, bowing before a great witch. A child stood in the battlefield where none had been before. Where she stepped, life grew anew.

The Green Witch. The only witch of her kind. Such magic had disappeared long ago. Yet it lived within this child. The child did not speak a word, and her every movement was silent. For she had taken the vow of silence, in exchange for this gift of life and great magic, they assumed. A silver medallion hung around the neck of this child. The stillborne from that night long ago. They named her Taraniel, after the forest where she had disappeared.

The covens rejoiced. The war ended. After all the Green Witch was surely a sign of good fortune. The stillborne child of the Mowndiey coven had lived. The curse was surely broken.

But again a dark night came. Jeremiah Mowndiey eldest child gave birth. The first witch born in 13 years. The hope of all the covens. But the mother was murdered, and the child disappeared. Siranee Mowndiey, a blood which like her great grandmother told the coven what the spilt blood had told her. Taraniel Mowndiey had betrayed the coven. She had killed her eldest sister in cold blood and kidnapped the child. The Mowndiey coven, angry, betrayed, went to the Taraniel forest. There at the edge of the forest they found the Green Witch Taraniel. There were no signs of a child, only blood staining her cloak. It was Jeremiah who started the spell. The curse of a Hells Fire. His other five remaining children added their own magic to the curse. Jasperal, adding his magic of the air, Vetalanie adding her magic of the sea, Arielle adding he magic of the storms, Harlen adding his magic of the shadows, and Siranee adding her magic of blood. Taraniel fought the Hellish Flames that began consuming everything in its path, but such a curse of hatred could not be quelled so easily. Defeated she turned and fled into the forest. Resigning to the flames of fate. But then a seventh magic was added to the Hells Fire Curse. Somewhere deep within the forest, something happened. A sound that had never before been heard broke into the hellish night. The Green Witch had broken her vow. The earth again shook and the land seemed to scream. The once red and orange flames turned Green flowing with strange magic. Turning the earth to ash. No one could stop the Hells Fire Curse. It scorned the land and silence betook the earth.

I remembered a land once green, like an old dream. And I remember the Hells Fire Curse. Now all I know is a world of ash and dirt bones and blood. A world with a sad song, every note coming to an end. The witches destroyed this earth. What was once a prophecy that brought hope became a tale of how the world began to die. They say there is no true way to break a curse. Not until the song comes to an end. For it is the song that guides the magic to silence.