“You have all heard of the time when the dead didn’t tread upon the land?”

The sea of youthful faces shone with the golden light of the hearth. The children nodded, expressions flooded with concern or fear. Even so, they were spellbound, as they were every night at this time, when they huddled on the floor surrounded by adults who gathered in chairs or leaned against the walls.

I turned to gaze out the window. The children’s curiosity prompted them to follow my lead. By the silvery light of the moon, we could see the wanderers ambling in the dark. Their cloudy gazes appeared distant as they searched. Their pale flesh was frigid blue in the moonlight, cold as the late autumn night. The front door rattled, and everyone jumped. It failed to open, and the wanderer moved on, passing by the window without a glance.

Beside me, young Corin gripped his older brother’s hand. “I don’t like to think about it,” he said.

I mussed the boy’s hair and replied, “We cannot ignore the truth just because we don’t like it. It’s important to understand how the world became the way it is so that we can learn and grow. Survival is never guaranteed. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

Corin glanced up at his brother, then back to me with a nod.

I leaned back in my chair and recalled the words of my mother, the same words spoken by her father and his before him. “The living once walked this world alone. They worked the land, growing sustenance for themselves and their children. They built homes and palaces. They sailed the seas, explored distant lands, and shared their dreams in artwork and mesmerizing enactments. Wizards and witches, mages and sorcerers, and all sorts of other magi performed feats great and small with their wondrous magic. For seculars like ourselves, life was made easier.