The middle existed to hold the directions together. North, from which Culleen Callawe’en came: cold, deep forests; thick snow; argon mines; pure magic. South: hot and steamy; exotic, erotic dreamscapes. West: farms and peasant farmers; lords and ladies; kingdoms and principalities. East: wild, untamed; sea tang; storms; wind-buffeted.

Culleen, born bereft of magic, felt pulled to the middle as if she would find her magic there. A fey quest to be sure, but one she must make. Though versed in nature and earthly arts and could defend herself with staff and short sword – a decommissioned blade of argon re-forged with no magic, Culleen still keenly felt her strangeness. Even Darwin’s surprisingly pleasant strong embrace and deep kiss upon her departure could not stop her and Vesta – more wolf than dog – from seeking some source of magic for herself. Perhaps with it came the answer to the forever-asked question:  How could a Callawe’en, the strongest of the argon miners and forgers; best of the spinners and weavers; the clan where magic pulsed with vigor through veins like argon through their mines or life through their textiles, be born humanish from the before times?

Continue reading here: #writephoto mystery: Culleen in the middle