“My grandfather," he said, "your great-grandfather, was a wonderful man - us kids loved him.
Me, Fergus, Gordon, we'd sit around and he'd tell us all these fantastic stories. My father, however, didn't have a lot of time for him. All the stories he was telling us, he'd told my father when he was a kid. And when my dad grew up, he realised it was all nonsense, but my granddad refused to see it. My grandfather believed... He believed that we were magic."
Stephanie stared at him. "What?"
”He said it'd been passed down, this magic, generation to generation. He said we were descendants of a great sorcerer called the Last of the Ancients.”