Self-Shipping Lana Parrilla

Contains erotic text-based content and suggestive visual content

[selfshippinglana]

So not to be an ass, but finally having confirmation that Lana and Fred are indeed divorced really makes it a lot nicer to self-ship with her.

Like... we all knew they had split up, it was really fuckin’ obvious, but we didn’t know. Y’know? And now we do.

I think I might get back into writing and posting and shit now.

[selfshippinglana]

Beyond the Veil

There are doorways between our world and the magical world. Some are ancient, having been there since the worlds were divided and the veil put into place. (In this case “ancient” means a couple hundred years. It’s not really a long time, but considering how most doorways are less than a hundred years old, the word ancient is fitting in this context.)

In big cities like LA, New York, London, Tokyo and all those metropolises, there’s hundreds of doorways. It’s rare to have more than a half-hour commute, unless you’re walking. But even then, if someone’s on foot and going back and forth a lot, they’ll usually just... make a new doorway. Some people even have personal doors from their mundane home directly into their magical home.

I don’t live in a large city, or at least, I don’t until later. I grew up in a city of about 80 thousand, and we’ve got four doors.

Once you go through the door, you usually find yourself in a small room with two doors. The one you came through, and the one to the rest of the city. (A lot of people casually call the magical world “the underworld” so for the sake of clarity, I’ll do that from now on.) Through the door is the rest of the underworld.

Now, depending on where you are, the underworld might look different. Its features are based on the natural land of the location before humans came in and started messing with nature. There are buildings in the underworld, of course, but they tend to appear more natural than those in the mundane world. No glass and steel high-rises to be found. Most people live in “caves” or “burrows” (the quotations are because while the outside appearance is of a cave or burrow, the inside is formed by magic and can have any appearance at all. And let me tell you, it’s very strange to walk into what appears to be a rock-hewn cave and have the walls be the gauzy curtains of a tent, instead.)

Aside from the homes, there’s also usually a rather large market (containing everything you’ve ever heard of from magic flying carpets to enchanted jewelry to mythological foods and more) and several entertainment venues (sports, plays, fight arenas, gardens and parks, and a lot more).

Where I live, the underworld is quite small. Honestly it’s more of a hub than a city, although there is a small market and several homes.

The underworld cities are connected by paths, and even if you walk, it’s still faster than walking in the mundane world. For example, where I live in about a four hour drive to the nearest big city, but if I take the underworld path, it’s a four hour walk. If I take a flying carpet, it’s much faster. (The exact time depends on the carpet, but even the cheapest, slowest options will still get me there in half the time.)

There’s even what could be called a postal service. Small crystal orbs are enchanted by the sender with the identity of the recipient and attached to packages which are sent by carpet to the proper underworld city. The package is released when the recipient touches the orb and confirms their identity. Bigger orbs are used for communication, like video letters, with messages being stored, shipped, and played back upon the recipient’s touch, just like the mail.

Really, the biggest differences between mundane cities and underworld cities are the magic, of course, and the mythological creatures. You’re just as likely, if not more so, to see a vampire or werewolf or fae walking around as you are a human.

[selfshippinglana]

Travelverse: How We Met

So after the whole thing with the genie, my wishes really did work. On the morning of my 30th birthday, I woke up and it was my 10th birthday again. I got to live everything over again, with the skills and knowledge I’d already accumulated.

(If anyone wants to hear about my childhood, let me know and I’ll talk about it.)

The highlight is that I took my writing ability, that I’d been working on for 20 years, and immediately started applying it. As a teen, I became a published author.

The summer I was 16, I convinced my parents to let me go to New York City and LA. Partly because I really did need to do some research and make contacts for my next book (sales from the previous books allowed me the money for the trips) and partly because I wanted to see if I could meet Lana.

Yeah, even after all the repeat years, I was still a fan. She was on Boomtown then, and they were filming the first few episodes of the second season. Of course, I knew it was going to be canceled, but they didn’t. Anyway, I managed to talk (and pay) my way into a set visit.

Most of it was pretty basic, but Lana was there, and that was the important thing. The tour was between scenes, and she didn’t have anywhere to be, so we got to talk.

She asked what I was doing in LA, and I told her. Then she asked how long I was staying, and I said just a week or so, that I needed to get back home for my birthday and school. At that, she asked what I was studying, assuming I was at university (at nearly-17 I looked more like 23 or 24) and I had to explain that no, actually, I was finishing my last year of high school.

That was when the skeptical look came out and she asked, “You’re in high school and you’re researching a book to write?”

Then my little bit of an asshole side came out, and I just casually replied, “Yeah. I mean, I can’t write it right away, ‘cuz my publisher wants at least one more in my current series, but it’s best to do the research long before you have to write the book. Publishers are pretty demanding.” When she asked, I told her the series name and the pseudonym I publish under.

Turns out, she’s read them and really enjoyed them.

I figured I might as well take the opportunity while I could and suggested exchanging email addresses to keep in touch. She agreed, and I pulled out my notebook (always carry one around with me) and we each wrote ours down to the other.

After that it was time to leave, but that was okay. I’d done what I’d intended and more, so I was happy.

[selfshippinglana]

Travelverse: How It Began

It’s the summer I turned 30, and I was visiting friends. We decided to take a day to go thrift shopping, and started with the flea market. T went off to look at housewares and K went for the books while I made my way methodically through the tables, starting from one end of the giant building and working my way to the other. I didn’t want to miss anything.

At a table of antiques, the woman watching over them suddenly spoke to me. “This is meant for you,” she said, and held out a tarnished silver oil lamp.

“No thanks,” I replied politely, turning my attention back to the collection of thimbles as I considered buying one for another friend.

“Yes,” the woman insisted. “This is meant to be yours. You must take it.”

I looked up, noticing for the first time the eerie pale grey of her eyes, almost white, almost seeming to glow. Then I looked at the lamp, and the price tag attached to it. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not spending a hundred dollars that I don’t have on something I don’t even want. If you want to make a sale, I’m interested in these thimbles.”

“For you, a dollar,” she said, and held the lamp out again.

That made me pause. Sure, I didn’t really want the thing, but I could probably turn around and sell it for a good fifty bucks, maybe more if I cleaned it up a little. And I already had silver polish at home. “Why do you want me to buy that in particular so badly?”

She smiles, and I swear her eyes actually do glow for a second. “They speak to me, these things,” she gestures at the table as a whole, “and this lamp says it’s for you.”

“... Okay,” I say, unnerved and just wanting to leave. If it means forking over a buck and attaining a genie-style lamp, I guess that’s what I’ll do. The exchange is made, and the woman carefully wraps the lamp in paper and bags it for me, and I leave, rather quickly.

The rest of the day was uneventful, although my friends did make fun of me for buying the lamp. Once the weekend was over, I headed back home, where I dug out my silver polish and prepared to put some elbow grease in to cleaning up the lamp for resale.

That’s... not what ended up happening. About half a dozen wipes of the cloth in, smoke started pouring out of the lamp, I start having a heart attack, and the next thing I know, a big dude in fancy clothes is standing in the middle of my kitchen, calling me master and asking what I want.

I’m just gonna come right out and say it, I thought magic lamps were the stuff of stories. But I guess it’s one of those “kernel of truth” things.

The genie laid it out pretty clear. I’ve got 3 wishes. I can’t kill someone, bring someone back from the dead, or make someone love me. I can’t wish for more wishes. I can’t use the words or, and, or but when making a wish. I asked if I was allowed to have more time to decide and he said yes, and to just rub the lamp when I was ready. Then more smoke and poof, no more fancy dude in my kitchen.

It took a while to wrap my head around that, and even as I was writing out my wishes and arranging the wording just so, I didn’t really believe it had actually happened.

When I finally figured out exactly what I wanted, I rubbed the lamp again, fully expecting nothing to happen. The genie appeared again, though, so I laid it out.

1. I wish to have the ability to use magic, including, however not limited to, being able to change my appearance both superficially as well as biologically, the ability to predict outcomes to one’s actions, as well as the ability to detect other magic in the world.

2. I wish to have the ability to learn at an increased rate, two to four times as fast as the average person on any given topic, the variance tied to the level of effort I put into it, i.e.: I learn twice as fast if I don’t study, four times as fast if I study constantly, with the variance of the middle ground working accordingly.

3. I wish to wake up the morning of my 30th birthday on my 10th birthday, to redo my life with the complete knowledge up to this point in my life, to remember the things I had remembered at that age as well as not forget the things I’ve learned since.

All wishes are to have the stipulation of not inherently harming anyone, nor is there to be any retribution, cosmic/personal/whatever, against any person I have loved, past/present/future.

The genie gave me some pretty dirty looks at my wording (however taking the place of but, as well as taking the place of and, nor taking the place of or, copious use of slashes) but he didn’t argue. In fact, he seemed almost proud, once he got over his slight annoyance.

The actual granting of the wishes was a little anticlimactic, just a wave of his hand. No smoke, not sparkles, no flash of light. But I certainly felt the change. I could feel the magic inside me, and I brought my hand up. I did Regina’s signature move and just as I willed it, a fireball appeared in my hand.

(holy fucking shit)

Then with a flourish, the genie disappeared back into the lamp, and the lamp also disappeared.

It was two days to my birthday, and I had a lot of things to plan out.

[selfshippinglana]

Vampireverse: Discovering the Truth

Practically as soon as the door closed and we were alone in my hotel room, Lana kissed me, holding my face and murmuring, “I’ve wanted to do that all day.”

“Why?” I asked, confused and well on my way to being turned on.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” she said simply, “and I want you.”

Obviously I’m not going to argue, not with every fantasy of mine on the verge of coming true, but I still couldn’t help but ask, “Do you regularly make out with your fans?”

“Never done it before.”

That surprises me, and has me wondering what makes me so special, but she’s kissing me again before I can think to ask.

Then we’re moving toward the bed and she’s pulling at my clothes, yanking my tank top over my head and dropping it on the floor. I figured I was allowed to return the favor, so I started pulling her clothes off in return. By the time she pushed me down onto the bed, we were both down to our underwear, and she paused to remove her bra before following me.

I admit, I was a little stunned at that point. Like any fan, I’d watched Lana’s entire filmography, I’d seen her in bikinis and nighties and bras, but never even partially naked. And, seeing my slack-jawed appreciation, she grinned and stripped off her panties, too.

I might have hyperventilated if she hadn’t climbed on top of me and kissed me (even more) senseless.

There wasn’t a lot of foreplay, she made her way down pretty quickly, taking a detour to lick and suck my nipples before settling between my thighs. I almost came as soon as her tongue touched my clit. It was too good, and I was way too keyed up, but there was also no way on earth I’d let it be over this fast.

I couldn’t resist reaching down and tangling my fingers in her hair, and she looked up at me when I did. When I say that there is no sexier sight than that of Lana looking up at you with her gorgeous dark eyes while she sucks your clit, believe me, I’m not exaggerating.

And as if it wasn’t good enough as it was, she then added fingers to the mix, sliding two into me and curling just right. She lifted her head, watching me, and replaced her mouth with her thumb on my clit.

By then I was moaning and panting and squirming and so close to orgasm I could taste it. She started kissing and mouthing along my inner thighs then, and just as I started to come, there was a sharp pain under her mouth. It wasn’t enough to distract me, in fact it heightened the pleasure from her fingers. I’d never had someone bite me during sex before, but it was clearly working for me.

Plus, I mean, Lana freaking Parrilla just went down on me and made me come on her fingers, I’m really not about to complain about anything.

When I finally started to calm, she unclamped her teeth from my thigh and my skin tingled oddly, but I didn’t have time to think about it as she came back up, kissing me again. I could taste myself on her tongue, but it was different than when I’d done so with previous lovers. I didn’t have too much time to think about it as she breathlessly said, “My turn,” into my mouth and then continued moving up my body.

The realization that she was planning on sitting on my face sent a wave of arousal through me, despite the fact that I’d just come. When she settled over me, I wasted absolutely no time in running my hands over her ass and hips and pulling her down against my mouth.

She tasted amazing, and felt deliciously hot and wet against my tongue. And she wasn’t afraid to grind against me, riding my face as she got closer to her own peak.

When she seemed like she was right at the edge, her muscles trembling as she rocked tightly against my mouth, I gripped her hips tighter and pulled her more firmly against me, sucking her clit and flicking my tongue against it.

The move sent her over the edge, and she let out a sound that was half cry of pleasure and half guttural growl. It was an unexpected noise, but completely sexy, prompting me to squeeze my thighs together. There was an ache where she’d bitten me.

After she came down, she pulled away and flopped down on the bed next to me, a blissful smile on her lips. I couldn’t help but stare, the knowledge that I had put that smile on her face made my stomach flip.

We laid in silence for a while before I got curious about the damage she’d caused when she’s bitten me, and sat up to have a look.

“Don’t--” she’d protested, but was too late, I was already sitting up and staring in confusion at the two neat puncture marks on my thigh. They weren’t deep, or bleeding, or anything like that. In fact, they looked nearly completely healed, but they were definitely there.

“What...?” I asked quietly, and when I looked over at her, she was biting her lip, looking uncertain. I tried a joke to break the sudden tension and asked, “What, are you a vampire?”

She didn’t laugh. In fact, she looked even more uncomfortable.

You know, there’s a big difference between believing that vampires exist in some nebulous “out there” and undergoing the slow dawning realization that your favorite actress just fucked you because she wanted to drink your blood.

[selfshippinglana]

Vampireverse: How We Met

It started at a meet and greet event. One of those ludicrously expensive things where you get x number of minutes with a celebrity. It was also my birthday, which is how I was able to do it. Friends and family had pooled their money together and bought me fifteen minutes (plus a photo and autograph) with Lana. Mostly alone, even, just that one guy in the security t-shirt standing by the door.

There were a bunch of us at the event, standing in a line outside the room. I’d hoped to be near the front, but I was stuck dead last, and she was sure to be exhausted and tired of talking to fans by the time she got to me. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it, I just had to wait and hope for the best.

Finally it was my turn, and I stepped into the room. She was taking a drink from a water bottle and stopped suddenly to turn and look at me. It surprised me, the way she turned her attention to me so suddenly, but after a moment, she finished drinking and set the bottle down. There was a couch in the room, and she sat down on it and smiled, inviting me to sit as well.

I’m not gonna lie, I did the normal fannish stuttering thing for the first couple minutes, but she was patient and tolerant and coaxed me past it. Once my brain kicked in and I realized she’s just another person like anyone else (the irony, in hindsight, is hilarious), I was able to carry on a normal conversation. It didn’t last long, of course; fifteen minutes isn’t much time.

But at the end, after the picture and autograph, after I’d given her the gift I’d made, she leaned unexpectedly close to me and lowered her voice, murmuring, “Do you think I could have your number?”

My brain must have shorted out, because everything blurs after that. I know I agreed, that I watched her take her phone out and put me into her contacts as I recited my number for her. I don’t really remember leaving and going back to my hotel, either. The next really clear memory was my phone buzzing with a text.

“Hey, it’s Lana” was the message, followed quickly by a photo of her blowing a kiss.

It made me feel playful and a little silly, so I replied with a picture, holding a hand to my cheek and looking exaggeratedly bashful.

She texted back “that wasn’t where I was aiming” and I about died. So I asked where she was aiming and she replied that she would show me next time, then immediately followed it up by asking if I’d like to meet her for a drink.

I say yes, of course, without thinking about it, and we discuss when and where to meet, settling on a bar around the corner from my hotel in a few hours. I pass the time by having something to eat and changing into something a little nicer than jeans and a t-shirt, which really just amounted to nicer jeans and a tank top. I didn’t exactly pack for a night on the town.

Finally it was time to leave, and she was already inside when I got there. We found a table and ordered drinks and talked. For hours. When it was late and I was getting sleepy I finally begged off, despite how much I wanted to continue to hang out. It had been a perfect day, and I didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to wake up in the morning and discover it had been a dream.

She agreed that it was late, and offered to walk me back to my hotel. Then offered to walk me up to my room. Then asked to come inside, just for a minute.

It was the set-up to every cheesy pwp smutfic ever, but somehow it didn’t even occur to me. I just... let her in.

[selfshippinglana]

Stringverse: How We Met

It was the weirdest day, considering it started so normal.

I got up, went through my normal morning routine, and settled in for a lazy Saturday on the couch, Netflix on the TV, laptop open to tumblr and discord, cats asleep on the couch next to me. Then halfway through my third episode of Bob Ross, there was a knock at my door.

That was enough to elevate my day from normal to odd, as people don’t generally show up at my house. But then when I opened the door, the day went completely off the scale.

Because standing there, looking oddly nervous, was Lana.

I gaped.

She said hi, and I didn’t say anything. Then she smirked a little and said, “I’m guessing you know who I am?”

I found my voice, more or less, and said something along the lines of “You’re either Lana Parrilla or one hell of an impersonator.” I even checked for the scar to be sure.

She said that yes, she was Lana Parrilla, then she looked down at her hands, then my hands, looked back up at me and smiled and asked if she could come in.

All those tumblr posts about like ‘I’d willingly let her murder me’ went through my head, because really, I didn’t know why she was here, how she was here. But you know what? I just might actually willingly let her murder me if she wanted to. So I let her in.

(She didn’t want to murder me, obviously.)

I led her into my living room and she sat on my ugly orange couch and cooed over my roommate’s fat cat. It was surreal.

We made small talk for a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries (and my name) before she got down to business. She started with “I guess I should tell you why I’m here” and then when I agreed, she watched me silently for a long moment. Finally she broke the silence by asking, “Do you believe in soulmates?”

I said yes, and she looked surprised, so I explained. I believe that there are people you find over and over through your various lives, people who are meant to touch your life, whether it’s romantically, platonically, or familially. That’s what, I believe, a soulmate is.

She smiled at my explanation, nodded, and asked, “What about someone you’re destined to be with romantically?”

“That one I’m not sure about,” I said with a shrug. The idea of destiny choosing someone before I’m even born was a little hard to swallow. At least it was back then.

She asked if I believed in magic, if I’d heard of the Red String of Fate, if I would be willing to change my mind about destiny if I met the right person.

I answered all her questions as best I could, before finally asking one of my own: “Why are you here?”

She looked at her hands, twisted her fingers together. I recognized the gesture from Once Upon a Time, and I hadn’t realized it was something she did, too.

She told me that magic was real, as was destiny, soulmates, the red string, all of it. That she was here because she had used magic to be able to see her red string and it had led her... to me. That fate had tied us together before either of us were even born.

I didn’t believe her, of course. How could I? It was crazy. So I asked her to show me some magic, to prove she was telling the truth. She said she couldn’t, not then, but that if I went with her, she could take me “beyond the Veil” and I would see that it was all real.

And for some reason... I agreed. My bullshit meter was hovering around zero, and despite how utterly crazy it all sounded, part of me did believe her.

We didn’t even have to go far. It was only a few streets away from my house where a small, somewhat dingy shop sat, and she walked in like she’d been there before. The clerk nodded at her and she led me to the back, like she not only had been there before, but like she owned the place. The back office was cluttered on one side and strangely empty on the other, and I soon found out why when Lana took out a gold token, similar to a coin, and tapped it against the bare wall. And the wall opened.

She took me through, and somehow, there was a town, one like I’d never seen before. There were creatures out of folklore and market stalls selling all manner of strange things.

And then? Then I believed her. About everything. Magic. Destiny.

The red string that tied us together.

[selfshippinglana]

Magicverse: How I Met Lana

It was a festival in the summer of 2011. There was street entertainment, vendor booths, food stands, even some booths with carnival-type games. I had a vendor booth, selling my handmade curios and witchy things. I had wands and talismans and spell nets (not entirely unlike dreamcatchers, only multi-purpose and without the cultural appropriation). I had cast a subtle charm on my table to draw people in, and I saw Lana coming when she was still a few tables down.

At that time, I didn’t know who she was, other than a hot brunette that blew everyone else out of the water. She wandered from table to table, looking at what was on offer, and finally made her way to mine.

One of the luck talismans caught her eye, a woven piece with a feather on it, but it wasn’t quite right, and she asked if I did custom orders. I did, I even had most of my supplies with me, after last year when I was offered triple to customize an order that day. So I wrote down what she wanted and gave her my card, telling her it would be ready in an hour and she could come back.

It was an easy customization, swapping out the feather for one of a different color, add a little sparkle and a silver charm. I didn’t usually put very much magic into these things. Enough that they worked, but not so much that they worked suspiciously well. But she was gorgeous and maybe I wasn’t thinking things through as much as I should have.

I had some faerie thread packed away. On its own, it’s very obvious it’s not a mundane material -- it’s half transparent and shimmers even in complete darkness -- but woven in, it just looks like a bit of sparkle, nothing overt. But the magic, oh, that’s not subtle at all. Not in the mundane world, anyway.

I finished the talisman and she came to pick it up, gushing over how nice it was.

Truthfully, I didn’t expect to see her again. She had my card still, but I expected that our paths were only meant to cross the one time.

I was wrong.

She called me a week later, asking about my talismans. “It sounds crazy,” she said, “but I swear everything has been going my way since I bought it.” She hadn’t had to stop for a red light once, she found ideal parking, even in the most unlikely of places, service was quick and friendly, even her cat, whom she’d been about to take to the vet for a strange cough, had inexplicably gotten better. Nothing had gone wrong in the last week, and that just wasn’t normal. Even the luckiest of people deal with minor annoyances, but there had been none.

“Do you believe in magic?” I asked her, and she asked if I was referring to Harry Potter or Wicca. “Both,” I said, and she didn’t seem to know what to say. So I asked her out for coffee with the promise of explaining how it worked.

And she said yes.

[selfshippinglana]

Magicverse: How I Became a Witch

I always knew I could do magic. The mundane sort, of course, but I could do it. I specialized in wards and healing. Somehow, when I put my mind to it, I could keep certain types of people out of an area. And it wasn’t just in my head, other people who had no idea I did magic noticed and commented. “Wow, your house is so peaceful” and “I can’t believe you’ve never had anything stolen in this neighborhood.”

I didn’t really think anything of it at first, it was just something I did. And then I met a friend, we’ll call her D. D had all sorts of ideas about magic that I’d never heard before. She told me about doorways to places where magic could do more than just make that creepy guy stop following you. Like Narnia, she said, or Platform 9 3/4. All you have to do is step through.

That was in my head for a long time, until one day I was walking down the street and a small shop caught my eye. It had a nondescript name and dark windows filled with clutter. A pawnshop, perhaps, or a thrift store. It called to me, and I stepped inside. The bell above the door rang and there was a clatter further inside, like someone was startled.

I looked around, trying to be casual, but something about the place made me nervous, made my heart pound and my palms sweat. I finally meandered my way to the counter where a middle-aged woman stood behind the till, watching me with slightly narrowed eyes. She looked curious and cautious and didn’t speak until I had. I said something inane like “you have a lot of interesting things here” and she tilted her head.

Just before it tipped from awkward to uncomfortable, she smiled and said something strange... that changed my life. “What calls to you?”

I asked what she meant, and she clarified that she meant in the store. What called to me, what did I feel drawn to. It was an odd question, but I looked around again, this time listening to the part of me that I used when I did magic. That pull in my chest.

I wandered around the store again for a long time and finally stopped in front of a display case of trinkets. She came up next to me and asked which bauble caught my eye, but it wasn’t one of the brooches or miniature teacups that had my attention. It was a box. Not the ornately carved wooden jewelry box in the center of the display, no. The dark grey cardboard box sitting behind a small figure of a dragon. Drab, uninteresting, clearly just the packaging for the dragon in front of it. But something about that little two-inch box made my hands tingle, and I always listened when my hands tingled.

“Ahhh... yes, I can see that,” the woman said, and unlocked the cabinet to take the box out. She led me further into the store, to a back office, and despite my logical side telling me it was dangerous, I couldn’t leave. I had to know what was inside. She set the box down on a desk and told me to open it.

I did, and a beautiful crystal piece was inside. It was a dial, divided into sections, with symbols in gold on each one, and a gold arrow in the center that moved, clicking into place over each symbol.

I learned later that it was an energy tuner. Each section represented a different type of creature (human, vampire, were-creature, fae, etc) and setting the dial helped tune the healer’s energy to the specific needs of that creature. It called to me, even from outside the shop, and the owner gave it as a gift, and took it upon herself to teach me true magic.

She showed me the doorway through the Veil and took me to a sorcerer to unlock my talents. To allow me to see the magic I had always been able to feel.

It took a few years, but I learned. And I took that knowledge into the mundane world, making me better able to pull together the scraps of magic left there and fashion them into something workable.

[selfshippinglana]

The Construct of Magic

Many years ago, magic existed in the world. Mythological creatures roamed and witches and sorcerers cast spells. As technology progressed, the risk of magic being exploited grew too great, and the decision was made (through councils and the most powerful practitioners) to separate magic from the world.

The Veil was created.

A wall between the mundane world and the magical world. Doorways were placed, and continue to be added or removed as needed, to allow passage between worlds. All the creatures who were created by magical means or who are in possession of magic relocated, and those humans able to use magic found themselves able to live in either world -- or even both.

Traces of magic have remained in the mundane world, unable to ever be truly removed, and there are those who can sense and manipulate these traces. They go by many names: pagan, witch, Wiccan, and more. But on a scale of construction, they are merely children playing with blocks in comparison to the true architects of the magical world, the mages and sorcerers, enchanters and alchemists, who mold reality to their will.