Toil and Trouble

"It's been awhile young one."
"Not long enough."

Warlocks, wizard, witch... my kind has been killed many names. We live in the shadows of your world, our magic blooming from the darkness, adapting to survive within the hateful confines. We gave you fire, knowledge and you gave us spite and exiled us to the lowest corner of your world. Most of us died out, withered away into nothing, becoming wisps of smoke.

We were once children of the gods, their strength became our blood, their thoughts became our manifesto, and their children became our sisters and brothers. Their creations became our enemies. Humans that were once made of the darkest clay of the ocean grew power mad. They destroyed their gods, their creators, and created a new one. One to replace them all. A false god that bore a name that burnt our tongues.

Their kind and our kind have never looked eye to eye that is until they began to hang us, they watched our eyes bulge as we struggled to breathe, before we died out like lights. I suppose they'd rather we kissed their boots than be our own species. After all... it is only human to fear what is powerful.