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 lift the first box off the stack and heave it triumphantly down to the ground. It's only when you straighten up, hands on hips, that you realize you can count at least ten more that need pulling down as well before you can get into them all. You're not even sure the floor will hold that many—especially with Arctus sitting attentively right at your feet. You know she's just helping, of course, so you can't hold it against her.


You're in the downstairs hall, looking up at the pile of boxes you narrowly missed running into the very first time you let yourself into the house. At this point, you're getting a little sick of them greeting you every time you come home.


If ever there was a good time to unpack, it's now.


Still, you might have overestimated your unpacking abilities when you were lying safe and warm in bed. Giving the boxes one last look (just as Arctus leaps up onto your shoulder as if ready to start giving instructions), you make up your mind what to do with them.
