PlayerOliver

When you were a kid, you lived with your grandmother in the small town of Silvertree, on the edge of a magical forest. Grandma is a witch, and she taught you how to use your magic to affect the natural world, too. “Magic is a part of you,” she always told you. “Learning how to use it means figuring out who you are.”

Now you’re 19 and on your own. After years of living in the forest while you perfected your witchcraft, you’ve returned to take care of your grandmother’s house and crow-familiar while she’s gone. Figuring out who you are feels more important than ever - not to mention, figuring out what Silvertree is. A lot is just as you remembered: the friendly generous next-door neighbors with a kid just your age, the proud town council, the quaint little shops with quirky punny names, the gentle shadowy forest full of magic.

Stone in the shoe

You run out to the hall to grab your bags and pull them into the living room. You drop to your knees and start fishing through them, pulling out clothes and books and whatever else you find. Soon you're staggering under armfuls of stuff, which you dump in a pile in the middle of the living room floor. You don't waste time scattering things around—a photo frame here, a stack of books there, a couple of colorful pillows wherever they seem to look nice. By the time you stand back to admire your work, the place is barely recognizable.


…As a living room. It looks more like a thrift store in places, with clashing colors and shelves jumbled with knickknacks old and new.


"Perfect," you whisper, proudly taking it in. "Just like home."


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