Jonathon Goode: Honorary Witch

Twelve thousand years ago...  when mankind was very young and civilisation was just beginning, there was an island so fair and proud it was the wonder of the known world.


From her were born all the arts and all the sciences; and her people took them to far-off places and brought light into the new lands. Farming, wine-making, weaving, pottery making and writing were some of the skills they brought; astronomy, engineering and medicine were the sciences they taught. They knew the secrets of building in stone, and massive monuments were built all over their empire... for empire it was... as testament to their greatness and fame.


These were the days before history began;  and in that far-flung time, great sheets of ice gripped the Earth and all the northern lands were buried far beneath them. The waters of all the seas and all the oceans were much lower and much more benign; the distances between continents were much shorter.


This island was known as Aztlan, and it stood beyond the Pillars of Hercules in the waters of Okeanos, the great sea between continents.


And the people of Aztlan plied that ocean with their ships of painted sails and no part was unknown to them, for they were the first explorers and knew the secrets of the Earth. They knew the secrets of crystals and with those secrets they knew how to draw energy from the very air and ground and water, and channel it into power that they could control; power to lift great stones. Power to heal. Power to calm the waters. For the people of Aztlan were the first magicians and none could stand before them; all peoples bowed to them. 

Yet, all things are fleeting... 

... and in one single day and one single night, the Earth convulsed, tore itself apart and erupted; and the proud island of Aztlan fell beneath the waves, never to rise again. The fabled isle became shrouded in myth and legend.


Legend says that all her secrets were drowned with her; myth says... maybe not.