(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.”