Trade began between the townships as radioactive half-lives ticked away and the land became better able to support the growing of crops and the raising of healthy livestock. Barter gave way to letters of credit, followed by the exchange of metal and paper currency.

Five hundred years after those few days of thermonuclear insanity, the widely-separated townships were burgeoning centres of trade ringing the pockets of intense radiation that had been the old cities. The most important cities established the first schools of magic, training magically-gifted youngsters of both sexes. In time, two main classes of magic emerged: the male art of Thaumaturgy, whose acolytes derived power from within themselves; and its feminine equivalent, Geomancy, whose devotees obtained their magic from within the life-forces of Earth itself, including physical love.

Most witches went about their lives in a harmonious way, applying their Geomantic powers to cure sickness and to mend damaged items; most of the new cities welcomed powerful witches.

The early mages used their budding Thaumaturgical skills in a mechanistic manner to lift heavy loads and to deter crime, and, in many cases, they lived alongside their female counterparts in a harmonious and friendly working relationship. Romances between mages and witches were not only tolerated but encouraged; the child of a witch and a mage was likely to be more powerful and skilled than either of his or her parents.

Generation by generation, the dispassionate power of Natural Selection amplified the traits of magic and the differences between the two complementary disciplines.

The truce between the devotees of Geomancy and the adepts of Thaumaturgy did not last. The death knell of the old concord sounded as the mages began to band together into what would become the Guild of Magic-users, Sorcerers and Thaumaturges, guarding the secrets of their art with jealous zeal. The witches responded by forming the Geomantic Sisterhood, which the mages saw as a threat to their growing power.