They had killed magic. You could feel it, an entire planet without a soul. Even a city has a soul. They had killed magic. Here, the sun didn’t rise, a globe rotated, and there were no lovers. That was how they had done it, the final blow—Somehow they had destroyed that fundamental relationship; they had kept he boy from meeting the girl. Magic was dead. The things living here were hardly alive—stones have more life; a statue, at least, is like life.
There is magic, a black magic, even in death, but this was hopeless; this was hell.
Tale Told 