Introduction to Ipswich
Power Let’s face the facts; Abigail Hurst was far from normal, even by witches’ standards. She was still young, but she knew that she had barely tapped the tip of her growing powers. Some of her powers she knew completely and was comfortable with them. Some were barely on the edge of her consciousness. They would tease her in her dreams, or when she was confronted with danger or anger. She did not know their purpose, how to wield them or their strength (against her or others). Since she had had new powers emerging for years and more still unfolding, she somehow knew that there were still others farther in the universe that had yet to find her. These powers had yet to sense her and her ability to nurture them and help them grow. For power was a thing to itself. It did not have a conscience, but it sought out somewhere to root and grow. Abigail had been born in a kingdom where power and magic were feared and controlled. And not always by those who wielded the power. Many witches and sorcerers were either killed or controlled by the nobility. Power was not all powerful. The body was still flesh and bone. And the nobility did not care about being noble, they would easily use your family as a weapon against you. Abigail had escaped the shackles of the nobility, but the little bit of family she had left….they had not. In her travels, Abigail had met with a young noble that was kind, gentle, educated and modest. He was lovely. But he was also married….newlywed. He was returning from a diplomatic visit on behalf of his father, a prince and heir to a throne. His family was of a long line of royal blood…strong blood. His grandsire, the king was in his 50s and as healthy as any of his grandsons. This noble knew that he had a good life but that he would not be on the throne anytime soon. He was happy to help his family, but he was ready for his own life’s path as well. When he had met Abigail in the market place of a small distant town, there was an instant spark, a connection. It was nothing like his feeling for his wife. But he somehow knew that his life was meant to be entwined with this enchantress. She was charming to behold, with grand ideas about life and the world. He, his wife and Abigail had shared a meal that night in the tavern. And Abigail had finally told them of their destiny. For months, even before she had left her childhood home, Abigail had been privy to dreams. At first they made no sense to her, but they gradually evolved and told her a story. In the past century, there had been disease and famine widespread but spotty thru the adjoining lands. She had seen in her early dreams a small deserted village with a castle looming on the hill above. It was by the sea, and there were not many beasts invading from the near forests. Her dreams evolved and the fields began to flower and bloom again. And the beasts stayed at bay, as if they knew the village was not meant for them. And then Abigail’s dreams gained people. She knew none of these villagers, but they were happy and prosperous. And then, finally, one dream showed her advising the new ruler and the villagers about proper rituals, plantings and ways to keep evil spirits at a distance. She was obviously a cohesive element in this new thriving community. She had thought on these dreams most every day, even in the back of her mind as she attended to other matters of daily life. One day while meditating in the forest and listening to the forest, she felt herself rising above the world. She could see her village below. The sun was low in the sky, she got her bearings and then the powers slowly turned her. When she stopped and hovered like a bird of prey, she again took notice of her place in the world. She saw the setting sun, the mountain range, the old oak grove, the distant river. And suddenly she was soaring across the horizon, the sun rose and fell, rose and fell several times. Then she was hovering over that deserted village! She had found it. It was real and it was her fate, her future.
