An unknown force that only a few can work with. Some bend it to their will. Others let the will of the magic take them. A beautiful, dangerous power. It can wreak havoc on entire kingdoms. Destroy the mind. Or grant the grandest wish. Awash halls in gold, sliver, and pearl. Give marvelous crops that feed thousands. Magics that dwell in Underground Palaces made of precious metals and stones. Their own halls filled with treasures and jewels, laughter and singing. Endless music playing waltzes, ballads, lullabies, and tunes. Tiny feet twirl in those halls. Giant feet pass with soundless thunder. Fairy folk, aged yet youthful, exchange never ending dances and songs and joys and tricks and whatever else can fill the minds of their kind.

There’s two sides to a coin. Two sides to magic. The grand and marvelous and the homely and simple.

The quick little potion. A swift, easy spell. Simple. Be careful, my friend magic is magic. These fast little hexes will screw up your life. The crag by the bog will still bargain for your firstborn. The tired old fay will still ask for a few favors in turn. The kindly wizened wizard will take your candlestick for a potion, an old shoe for a charm, a new basket for a spell. They are shifty and crafty yet some benevolent. The sweet old lady will give you free bread along with that charm that you bought. The old hag in the wood is glad with just an hour of your time.

Then there’s the magic of creation. The world all around us. The sky painting itself every day. Trees covering themselves, like brides, in pale blooms, then throwing on bright green leafs that alight with the fire of autumn, then freeze over with the ices of winter. The bright snow making everything clearer, the sky, the air, the cold. Then the ice melts away and fresh blooms pop up from the damp, rich ground.

Our world is magical. You just have to look.