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 look from Robin—to the photograph—to the diary in your hands. For the first time, the intricate design in the faded leather of the cover stands out to you. Abstract as it is, there's no mistaking it's a tree.


Robin scrambles towards you to get another look at the diary. After a moment, he lifts it gently out of your hands and turns the first page with writing on it.


"That's—I've seen that handwriting so many times," he breathes. "I didn't really notice because I thought it was your grandma's, but—that's her—"


He stops, too amazed to speak. Meanwhile, you find yourself grasping for words—but none come to mind.


As your eyes land on the page of scribbled notes still lying on the floor, however, something clicks in your mind. Your grandmother's handwriting is unmistakable there—you can see it's hers at a glance. But when you compare it to the writing in the diary, you realize it doesn't match at all. Your grandma's busy scrawl is nothing like the tidy, cramped lettering on those old pages.


Movement to your left catches your eye, and you see that Robin is once again lowering his hands into the chest. Finally, in what seems like slow motion, he lifts out the only remaining object.


It's another wooden frame—but there's no picture in this one. Instead, another tree has been beautifully inked across a piece of paper, the colors faded but still showing hints of green and red.


Near the base of the trunk, there's a small gap in the design—and it's clear that whoever drew the tree also wrote in the name that sits in that gap. Above it, you see more names sprouting off from the first, and it isn't long before new handwriting takes over. Eventually, towards the ends of the highest branches, you recognize your grandma's handwriting.


The first name, written in the original lettering, which bears a strong resemblance to the handwriting in the diary, is Selene Corvina's.


Far above, your grandma filled in her own name in a gap in the foliage.


And at the very end of the same branch, sitting like a new blossom on an old tree, is your name.


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