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

For a moment, you simply stare as you hold the laptop reverently in your hands. Then, shoving the box aside, you set the laptop on the desk, and a minute later it's plugged in and whirring enthusiastically (at least that's how you choose to interpret the loudly humming fans). Soon you're greeted by a login screen with two profiles—one with your grandma's name, and one which, to your slight horror, you realize is yours that you made as a kid. Even worse, the profile picture shows you:


You notice after a second, however, that there's part of another face in the picture—another kid about the same age as you.


Suddenly it clicks: the picture is a little too blurry to recognize them properly, but you're sure this was the kid you thought you remembered playing with when you were younger. It's a little weird to see visual proof of something you can't even properly remember, but there it is.


At least the picture reminds you of one thing—the other kid was a boy. That's all you know—you can't remember his name, or even how you knew each other. For a moment, you wonder idly if you'll end up running into him while you're in town—but then you push it out of your mind as you get on with figuring out Grandma's old laptop.


Luckily there's no password on your profile (although you discover through a definitely accidental click that your grandma's profile is password protected)—and even luckier still, there's an internet connection somewhere nearby. After only a few minutes and a couple of unnerving beeps, you get online, and another minute later the browser loads its home page: what looks like a local news site, proclaiming "Silvertree Today!" in a slightly-too-bright orange font. Presumably your grandma's choice of home page.


Evidently today wasn't the most eventful day in Silvertree—the most prominent headline simply reads Local Man Swears Tree Wasn't in Yard Before—but then your eye is caught by a section titled "Upcoming Events."


At first you only skim the first bullet point, but as you move further down, you feel your mouth go dry. You read it over again, more carefully this time:


"On Thursday evening at 8 p.m., Town Council leader Dina Voche will chair a meeting at the Town Hall, which all local residents are encouraged to attend. Ms. Voche, along with other Town Council members, will take questions about local issues. Ms. Voche is also expected to announce the date of the Town Council vote on the planned Alberobello Developments and will offer residents the opportunity to voice their opinions on the matter."


You sit back in your chair, fixing your eyes on the word "Alberobello." It's only been hours since you were there, but it already feels like another world—and the name alone catches you off guard.


But as the moment passes, you realize you can feel the hopelessness that had settled on you after leaving the forest churning into something else. Whatever's going to happen to it, it hasn't been decided yet—could that mean it's possible to stop it altogether? To save the forest from whatever plans that voice seemed to have for it?


As you let the idea sink in, you realize this new emotion you're feeling is:


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