Bacchus lives a life of wild decadence, lounging in a forest throne of grapevines. The Maenads gather around him and sing wild songs, high-pitched and feral, and draw strangers into their throes. They have remained unchanging for millennia, and calling modern travelers into their circle always leads to awe. The small devices that tell us secrets are made from the bones of dinosaurs, our clothes no longer hand-stitched. The Maenads can smell the strangeness on you, and to them, it is indistinguishable from magic.
What magic exists in your everyday life? Little magics and big ones – the coffeemaker likes you best or the wind changes when you ask it to. However small and strange, what magic do you carry inside of you?