“Where do they come from?” asked Tab, as he and the Elder stopped by the weathered stone pillars. Ever since he was old enough to crawl, the out-of-place stones had fascinated him. Carved by some unseen hand from a light grey material, there was nothing else like them in the whole of the tribe’s territory.

The Elder glanced down at him, then folded himself down onto the ground. Sitting cross-legged, he patted the bare earth beside him, and Tab obliged.

“If you are to one day take my place, and wield the magic of our people, it is time you learnt about our oldest, most sacred legend. It is a story passed down from master to student throughout the ages, and it is why we hold a feast in honour of the stones every year.”

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