(May 5, 2025)

A cool breeze brushed across the back of Gentlevibe’s neck, and they released a sigh of relief. The sun had been hot today, boring down on them as they trekked the dusty road towards home. That breeze had been the first reprieve in hours, but by the darkness of the clouds coming in, the day was about to change.

They needed to get home before the storm struck. The king had demanded a lot from them today, and all they wanted was to drop into a chair, have a cup of tea and read.

Which was why, when the raven landing in the tree in front of them, Gentlevibes let out a curse.

“What does Sorcerer Maven want now?”

(June 29, 2025)

 “Maven demands your presence,” the raven quorked. “Emissary spotted on the road. Diplomatic visit. Wisdom required.”

Gentlevibes cursed silently and turned their feet back the way they’d come, picking up their speed. “From where?”

“Glenvarry.”

Not a hostile neighbour at least, but the visit didn’t bode well. How long had it been since anyone had come to visit their tucked away little country? Over a year at least. And the last time… The last time, they’d brought the plague.

“Continue on to my estate,” they ordered the raven. “Advise Mayberry that I won’t be home be home for tea. Or dinner. And to prepare my alchemy table.”

(July 18, 2025)

The trek back the way Gentlevibes had come was longer than it was before as their thoughts raced to figure out why this emissary had come.

Maven’s home appeared up ahead, nothing more than a stone tower in the middle of an open field, as though at some point in time it had been severed from a castle and plonked down to enjoy its space. Smoke spilled from the upper windows, and Gentlevibes hurried. What had the sorcerer done now?

By the time they reached the door, it already stood open, the skeletal butler standing at attention. “Upstairs?” Gentlevibes asked.

The skeleton nodded, and they took the thick stone slab steps at speed to reach the top of the tower. Their heart thudded and lungs wheezed by the time they reached the top.

“What is it, Maven?”

The sorcerer turned to face her, the old woman’s face absurdly cheery. “We’re going to war!”