((I don't mind ^^. I'm just stopping when I run out of ideas))
Kellan absently ruffled Jei's hair. Then pinched the bridge of his nose and returned to look over what was next.
One day, when the boy was ten years old, he was searching for snake eggs in the desert when he bumped into an old shaman. The shaman had a perpetual fire floating around him, and he radiated an aura of menace.
"Boy," he had hissed to the boy, "Where do you think you're going?"
The boy looked boldly at the shaman, for he felt no danger from the elements, as he was not in tune with any of it. "I'm going to find snake eggs to eat." Said the boy, his eyes blazing with inner fire.
The shaman laughed. It was a harsh, hollow laugh. Like the desert that they were in. "Well, boy, don't you think you could accomplish greater things?"
"Greater things?" The boy echoed, interested. The ambition in his eyes, some say, lit up the atmosphere around him. A twinge of magic, so faint it was almost not there, some say.
"Yess," The shaman hissed hypnotically. And he tempted the boy.
The boy was given a stone of great import, with which he gathered the magic in the air. The magic, paired with his ambition, led him to grow a large tribe of followers.
Soon, the boy had conquered all the desert, and he had many affairs with the people of his tribe. The boy, now a man, had children both of strong and weaker magic, though none of them were nearly as magic-less as he. But their blood had been diluted, and now the recessive gene for magic was born in them.
The man, growing older, conquered and conquered. He shed tears over his lost spouses, he cried when his army died. He blazed across the arctics, he stormed over the forests. He blew across the plains like a force of nature. At the end of his years, he looked over all that he conquered and cried, for though he had created a proud tribe, he had done nothing but destroy beauty in his life.
The shaman had long since died. The boy, the man, the old man, they cried for what they had done before they died. A great funeral was given to them, and all the people mourned.
Yet the tribe of all tribes remained. And they were so big, yet so disjointed with the loss of their great leader, they scattered and broke apart into the four corners of the world.
As time passed, those who had less magic always grew stronger with ambition. They subjugated those without magic to burnings and to trials that only led to death. The people with magic accepted their fate and returned to the mother Earth.
Eventually, magic disappeared from existence, except for the few pockets where those who had it practiced in secret.
Over time, kingdoms rose and kingdoms fell.
The McKarthy family came from a forest tribe where the forests were lush and full of deer. But the tribe was was conquered during the Great Autumn, as some would call it. When the Great Tribe broke apart, they broke apart from the tribe and carved out a place for themselves in the forests. But, just like the rest of the world, the magic-less hated those with magic. Eventually, we were left with nothing but the stones of petrified Earth. And so is the story the same for every other family, except the very few secret families who we don't come into contact with.
Kellan set the history book down with a sigh.