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

The forest is made of trees. And soil. And leaves, and trees, and darkness and air and trees—


Where are you going? Why are you walking through the forest?


Yes. Of course. You wouldn't be walking unless you were trying to leave something behind.


Just to make sure it's not still behind you, you turn around.


There are no trees. No forest. There's nothing behind you at all but an empty white void.


You blink—and then the void is gone. You're standing in the forest again, surrounded by trees. But…they're not exactly normal trees. They're all straight brown cylinders that stretch up into a vaguely green fog, but there's no more detail there. They're flat—lifeless—like the barest approximation of trees anyone could come up with.


You blink again, and suddenly the trees are trees again, with leaves and branches and wrinkles in the bark. They look real again, and this time you know you're back in the forest.
