(April 11, 2025)
Okay, so, it was Friday. That should have been a win, right? Everyone loves a Friday.
But when the world is about to end, perhaps the end of the week doesn’t freaking matter.
PT glowered at the fireballs raining from the sky, splashing into the river, which was now a bubbling vat of horror.
This was not how the day was supposed to go, but it turns out when you mixed dark magic with the wrong ritual, you can accidentally set off the apocalypse.
“Right,” she said, turning to the coven who’d cast the spell. “Now who’s going to take accountability for this disaster?”
(April 15, 2025)
The goblins standing around the edges of the ritual circle cast their eyes downwards with sheepish expressions, but PT noted how they shifted away from one in particular.
“Gobsmack…”
His greenish face flushed the colour of fresh leaves. “I might have… mispronounced a word or two.”
“We’ve been over this. You know you’re supposed to practice without the circle until you’re ready.” PT shoved her hands through her hair, then dodged out of the way as a fireball crashed to the earth. “Okay. Damage control. We need to get PR on this, STAT, and then—are there even spells to reverse this?”
The overtime costs were going to be through the roof.
(May 12, 2025)
PT rushed to get everyone organized, away from the lava river, and towards the relative safety of the warded office building. They’d gone out to the field behind the building this morning to work their ritual, but clearly that had been a misstep.
As soon as they crossed the ward, the shiver of magic running down PT’s spine gave her a moment’s concern.
“What now?” she demanded as she stormed into the lobby.
The receptionist dropped her calling crystal and sat up sharply. “Sorry, Mage PT, but there’s been—”
“Tell me quickly, or I will melt your eyeballs.”
She gulped. “We’re under attack, Mage PT. The Green Sorcerers have come for us.”
PT let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”
“Mage?”
“Nothing. Rally the soldiers.”
(July 24, 2025)
While the mages gathered, PT rushed up to her office, muttered a few words under her breath, and pulled open the second drawer. Instead of the pens and papers she usually shoved in there, a bright yellow light filled the room.
“Corda, are you there?”
“Yes, Mage PT. I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Does anyone know?”
“No, Mage PT. The green soldiers believe the attack came from Mount Surnon.”
They had no idea that she’d launched that volley. One tiny explosion, and look at the chaos that ensued.
“Excellent.” PT grinned. “Be ready with the spells when the signal comes. The Green Sorcerers are about to be destroyed.”
(November 6, 2025)
Everything was going according to plan. Mage PT stood at the window and watched her forces rally. The Green Sorcerers, having not actually struck the blow that had sent her country scattering, would have no idea what was coming for them.
Years of strategizing, of organizing vengeance for the destruction they’d caused when she was young, and it was all coming to fruition.
She tightened her grip around the oak staff in her hand and left to join her troops. It wouldn’t do to serve at the back. She would lead her army to watch the Green Sorcerers scatter.
“Mage PT?”
The soft voice made her stop and turn around. Standing there was a slight young man with shaggy hair, black robes, and an unfamiliar face. “Who are you?”
A sly smile widened his cheeks. “Your nightmare.”
She didn’t have time to prepare before a blast of green light filled the room.
(December 8, 2025)
The pain over overpowering, but PT didn’t hold back from retaliating. Channelling her power through the staff, she returned the Green Sorcerer’s blow. It shoved him into the wall, and the books on the nearby shelf scattered.
“You sought to start a war,” he hissed. “We’re only giving you what you wanted.”
Another shock of green magic filled the room, but this time PT was ready for it. She blocked the blast, and the spell bounced off her ward to strike the sorcerer. His sharp cry pierced her ears as the magic sliced through flesh, but he bared his teeth and came at her again.
“Know that all the pain coming your way is your own fault,” he growled. Then he slammed his staff against the floor, and in another burst of light, he vanished.
The door flew open and PT’s aide ran in. “Mage PT, the fortress—it’s overrun!”
PT slumped against her desk. Had they’d lost the war before they’d really begun?
(January 7, 2026)
PT found herself in the middle of chaos. All around her, mages were launching their magic or crashing to the ground injured or lifeless. Sweat dripped over her brow into her eyes, but she didn’t let up her offensive attacks. At least, she told herself they were offensive. She refused to entertain the idea that she was fighting for her life.
The Green Sorcerers were on the threshold of the fortress, gaining ground. There were so many of them, and their magic was so potent. All her plans were going up in smoke.
Her mages wouldn’t win this. They had to evacuate. Get to safety. Live to see another day where they could take their own stand.
“Harold!” she shouted to the older mage fighting at her side. Blood streaked down the side of his face, but his spells were still strong. “Open the hatch.”
His eyes widened. “Retreat?”
She gritted her teeth. “Survival.”
Through the chaos, she spotted the male sorcerer who’d come into her office. He met her eye and grinned, and in that moment, she swore vengeance.
(March 12, 2026)
PT couldn’t stop thinking about the Green Sorcerer in the days after the battle.
Most of her band of mages had managed to reach the hatch in time. Three had fallen, and the mourning celebrations hadn’t yet ceased, but everyone was grateful that the majority of their numbers had made it. If they’d stayed any longer, that wouldn’t have been the case.
And although PT knew she needed to focus on what came next, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man and his goddess-damned grin. What right did he have to smile had her when his people were trying to slaughter hers? Never mind that she’d been ready to slaughter his, even under the guise of being someone else.
But somehow they’d known.
All of her carefully laid plans had gone awry. Which could only mean one thing: there was a rat among the mages.
(April 7, 2026)
“Gather everyone up,” she ordered, and her second scrambled to obey.
Within moments, all the surviving mages stood before her. Some met her gaze without concern, others were too exhausted to stand, let alone keep their chins up. And some appeared to be actively avoiding her gaze.
She took in all of them.
“How did this happen?”
Harold swallowed hard. “I don’t know, Mage PT. They shouldn’t have made it nearly that close to the towers.”
He had no idea how right he was. Not only should they not have been able to breach the wards, but on that day of all days.
“Who told them?”
She didn’t bother hinting at her suspicions. Confidence was needed here to sniff out the traitor, and she would wield everything in her power to get to the bottom of it. “Who opened their mouths so many of our number could die?”
Who allowed the smarmy sorcerer to reach me?
The reactions of everyone varied in suspicions, but PT watched Harold most closely. His pallour. His sweat. His fidgeting.
“Godsdammit, Harold.”