Magic flows between locations of power. Shifting and floating. Rocking the foundations of existence. The flows are called Leylines. The Leylines are fickle and constantly shift. Like lightning arcing across two charged rods. They arc in different colors.
Red for the elements. Blue for support, the color of magic itself. White for healing, the holy unapproachable power. Dark, for deceit, and greed. Everything exists within the dark. And everything can be pulled from it… for a price.
If you seek the power of the leylines, do so with caution. They can spill over into you. They can consume you. Or if navigated with cunning and care, they can lift you from your mortal plane to the throne of the deities.
Only the most daring secure the leylines. They can be bound, by adding a magical tether. The process is daunting. Few survive. Old tales, speak of a lich who bound the leylines to themself. Where they went, the leyline did also. The controlled everything they touched, and bent everything to their will. They founded the Pax Lichdom. But nature, magic would not have it. The Nilflox were born of the void. And the Nilflox severed magic from the lich. Until the Nilflox, liches were unstoppable.
Yet, the leylines still flow. The magic courses through even you. Can you feel it? The subtle hum beneath your skin. The call to move without moving. To see without seeing. To feel beyond what can be felt.
Mages of old, codified the feeling. They set the movement of magic and wonder into laws and notation. They wrote in blood and ichor. And from their writings we can glean new spells. New forms of magic. Old forms of magic. Ever shifting mysteries set to paper.
You can find the elusive tome, here. If you dare.