The following text is inscribed on a scroll, older- it seemed- than the oldest tome in the oldest library of the land. Though the years have worn heavily upon the scroll itself, the words upon it are perfectly legible. Uneffected by the tides of time...

The Makers of Wishes

Book 1: The Blessing of the Lost

For we found ourselves wayward, deep in the great desert of an unknown land. New to each man and woman among us- for we, also, were new to it.

Long was our struggle, taking of the fruit and fat of the land without regard for the serpents hidden beneath its floral beauty. Poisonous berries. Poisonous creatures. Creatures with fang and claw fit to end our wandering premature.

The dark wind, and the terrors it brought.

For long did we wander, harried by misfortune. Hunted by creatures superior to we, the meek.

Then did she at the forefront call out, with a triumphant voice. That she had fled the mass- wandering near to death alone before she was saved by a woman in aqua garment, and fairly complected. She spoke a language which she could not comprehend- yet one she knew.

And granted unto her the miracle of creation.

Her miracles were demonstrated. Tried, and true. Water from nothing, food from air. Live cattle for us to butcher, and partake of its meat. But no gift is boundless... No fount un-ending. Eventually, her strength faltered. Her miracles- her wishes- having been drawing upon her strength in ways that we could not comprehend. When she collapsed at the head of our column...

It was then that the woman appeared to all of us.

"I am Zuriel, from whose hand has sprung your gift of plenty. With which you have come to rely upon... To face your fears. To feed your hunger. Without regard for she from whose palm spills this milk and honey. See now- how this selfishness leads ever in circles."

And we listened, though the words she spoke were foreign... Though they were 'heavenly', to all of us- we seemed to know as one.

"The lessons learned must grow. To each of you I say- I grant the same gifts as those granted to her before. I grant each of you the means to be self sufficient- but give as well but one mandate."

As her words came, each of us felt a change... Something inexplicable. Something unlike even the strange sensations that Zuriel evoked within us. Out of each of us, she had made those who possess the power not of miracles...

But of wishes. To plea to the forces that be. That weave together both the world we see- and the fate that binds us.

"This gift is not to be used solely for the self. Others... Struggle. Others, suffer. You must go out into the world, and aid them each and all with your blessings. But I... I give unto you my last."

With this, Zuriel dispersed. Her very being merged with ours- and through it- her blessings. Reality was at our fingertips... We could change the world, for better or worse.

All it would take was a wish.