I am Berenice, the illegitimate daughter of the Blue Baron. His exploits as an explorer are renowned far and wide, though he hides me as his deepest and most shameful secret. My mother’s death barely registered as an inconvenience to him.

They say he encountered alchemists, sorcerers, and wizards in his journeys. When I was young, I wished to the gods that one of them would hex and kill him. I still have that wish, to this day.

What is magic like in your life?

Magic is incredibly taxing on the soul of the caster and corrupts anyone who uses it. Magic is incredibly rare; anyone capable of casting spells is feared and revered.

Your talent for arcana reveals itself one day.

I do not know where my magic comes from.

Acquiring ultimate power attracts you.

Magic is endlessly interesting. There are so many secrets to unlock! What is the universe like? How can words create reality? I must know.

You begin your solitary quest.

One of my actions has caused a remarkable accident, and I have been exiled from my hometown.

It wasn’t my fault, I swear. I snuck inside this contessa’s wine cellar, hoping to grab a bottle or two. I didn’t expect a young boy to also be there. It was after ten, what was he doing in that place? We gaped at each other before he shouted for others. In my fear, I closed my eyes and rapidly wished him to disappear.

When the others arrived, they saw his twisted body on the floor. I could have run. But I was rooted to the ground in horror. What have I done?

They were too afraid to imprison me. I had to leave. My grandmother spat at my back as I left.

How did we meet? They begged me for help with a pressing issue.

Who are they? A single father toiling for his twins.
What is the mood of the encounter? Overwhelmed by earth-shattering awe.

“Is it true? That you’re a magus?” were the first words out of his mouth. Not even a “hello” or “how are you”. Rude.

I found a small, abandoned house two towns away from where I lived, and had been devoting the past months to researching spells. The world remained a mystery, and I must unlock it. I haven’t even learned any important spells yet, but the small tricks I could do has kept me fascinated.

Somehow, word must have gotten out.

“Go away. I don’t talk to strangers,” I brusquely replied, moving to close the door in his face.

“Please, wait. I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve never talked to magi before,” he stammered. “Please don’t turn me into a toad.”

“What do you want?” I glared at him.

“You’re the only one who can help. You’re the only one powerful enough..I’m begging you, please. My twins are so sick. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with them.”

“Why do you think I can help?”

“Because you’re magi,” he said. His eyes were wide with wonder and amazement, and he looked so sincere in this moment that I grew angry with myself for falling for it.

Begrudgingly, I followed him to his home and did what I could for his children. Their house was modest but filled with warmth and niceties that made me ache for my home.

I didn’t really know what I was doing, but it seemed to have done the trick, as they miraculously recovered the next day. I felt a painful pang inside of me—magic carries a heavy cost on the soul—but I sucked it up and tried to carry on.

The man came back to my house the next day and tried to give me gold.

“Are you serious? Go away. I thought I was done with you,” I told him.

“I have to repay you. What you did…you gave me hope, you cured my children. They’re my world. And you deserve the world. You didn’t have to, but you helped me.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“If money doesn’t work, I can do other things. I can… clean your library, sweep your floor. Cook you meals. Bring you books. Whatever you wish.”

I haven’t had a good meal since I left home.

“Fine. Make me soup. Then go away.”

True to his word, he cooked for me. He didn’t stop with the soup, though; he brought me venison, beef, vegetables, fruits, every day. Sometimes he would have the twins with him.

Eventually I asked him for his name. “Eppy,” he said. I nodded. “I’m Berenice.”

I found myself looking forward to his visits.

• Power: 1
• Focus: 0
• Perfect Control

Move forward 4 events.

Spell Name: Delirious Divinity

Spell Effect: For one, delicious moment, the caster is immune to harm and can ask one question from one god.

You traveled far, seeking the faintest remnants of this spell as written by a long-dead mage. What wondrous lair did you discover—and how did it remind you so painfully of the shortcomings of your current skills?

Eppy mentioned something one day that jolted me awake. “Are you going to build a lair like the previous magus did?”

I wasn’t the only magus who had lived in this town.

It turns out someone else had stayed here, a hundred years ago. Apparently, she was powerful. Would travel in the court of kings from time to time. She was dead, so her tower in the far north was bound to be abandoned. And I bet I could learn some spells there.

Eppy packed me ten days’ worth of meals. I nodded to him as I left to find her lair.

I found it, after a week’s worth of grueling, nonstop travel. It didn’t seem dilapidated at all; it looked clean and strong, as if it was just waiting for its owner to come back.

I chewed Eppy’s sandwich as I pondered what to do. A frontal approach might be fatal. But I couldn’t find any other entrances… I could always try to levitate and go to a window. I wasn’t very sure of my levitation skills. But I could always try.

It was shaky floating up. My ascent trembled and traced a shaky line in the air as I rose. Okay, I’m almost certain that breaking into a long-gone wizard’s tower is the worst idea ever, but my curiosity wouldn’t let me rest. I had to get in.

I clambered into a window, miraculously unlocked. And there, in front of me, was a spellbook, open on the page “Delirious Divinity”.

I felt an electric current run through my body as I imbibed the spell.

• Versus Difficulty 7
• Roll result: 3, 2, 8 One success

I fell to the ground. I couldn’t breathe. Head was ringing. My vision was gone, replaced by flashing lights that reminded me of that night in the wine cellar. My flesh felt strange, as if it could slough off at any moment.

I felt an ominous shadow rise around me. The spirit of the sorceress? I had to escape. Coughing, weeping, I crawled back to the window and tried to levitate down. Instead, I fell.

The brambles barely broke my fall. I was ill, in pain, and almost ready to give up, when the image of Eppy flashed in my mind. That stupid man was no doubt waiting for me back at the house. The idiot.

The thought of him waiting there forever made me mad. How dare he make me pity him. I’ll show him. I’ll come back and shut his stupid, worrying face.

With broken gasps, I stood up and began the long, painful walk home. At least I’m alive, though the pain and sickness will last until the end of my days.

• Power: 1
• Focus: 0
• Perfect Control
• Scar: Rotting Disease

Move forward 2 events.

I haven’t progressed much in my quest to learn more about magic and the world. I want to push myself, try harder, be more disciplined and more rigorous about my approach. Sometimes I don’t sleep, just staring at books and writing sigils endlessly on the floor. Then I’m jolted out of my stupor when Eppy knocks and brings me a meal. He’s the only reliable part of my life now. Everything else is such a mess.

A child ran into me one day, and immediately I felt a spark from them. Magic. Somehow, this strange creature held arcana within them too, like me.

Then I shook myself clear. I couldn’t let myself be deterred or obsessed by someone, especially not a child. Instead, I decided to refocus myself on acquiring more spells.

Spell Name: Prophecy of Nourishment

Spell Effect: If a wizard whispers the correct intonations at twilight, they will receive a portent whether the next moon’s harvest would be plenty and bountiful.

A sorcerer agrees to teach this spell, but at a cost: they must be allowed to experiment on your body. The temptation of this spell is too high to refuse. What limits do you set with the sorcerer—and what boundaries do you allow to be broken?

I told myself I wouldn’t be dallying with other wizards anymore. Well, I’m a woman of many falsehoods apparently, as I immediately found myself reaching out to a sorcerer renowned for their work on raising farmlands for their kingdom. My town had entered a famine recently, and Eppy, the usual idiot that he was, suggested that perhaps a spell could help.

“Of course,” the sorcerer Ishtak said, in a magnificently handwritten letter. “For a minor trifling cost, I hope you understand. I require a subject for one of my experiments. Should you be a kind volunteer, I would be more than happy to teach you the spell.”

Argh. I still haven’t recovered from my illness—I doubt I ever will—and I don’t know if my body could take any more oddities.

“It’s alright, Berenice,” Eppy said to me, when I complained to him. “It was just an idea. I’m sure the town will be alright.”

I scowled. I hate him when he does this.

I wrote back to Ishtak. “I would like to make an appearance at your tower so we can discuss this further.”

Of course, I knew what would happen. I would be experimented with. I would be in pain again. But perhaps it would be worth it, because this time the spell will help others, not just me.

I just have to grin and bear it.

• Versus Difficulty 8
• Roll result: 5, 6, 10 One success

Somehow, I survived. Ishtak grinned at me. I wasn’t not sure if they were trying to be friendly or just be an asshole about it.

I touched my face. There was a lump in my forehead. What…what was it?

“Oh, it’s a hidden eye,” Ishtak cheerily said. “It will see ghosts. You have a third hand, too, but it’s spectral so you also can’t see it. It can touch ghosts. I hope you like ghosts.”

I gave a forced smile. “Oh, that sounds fun.” It sounds atrocious. This wizard twisted me into a strange abomination!

At least I have the spell now. I could help the town. Small, silver linings, I guess.

• Power: 1
• Focus: 0
• Perfect Control
• Scars: Rotting Disease, Tertiary Limbs and a Hidden Eye

Move forward 1 event.

Spell Name: Paradox of Ghost

Spell Effect: The target, dead creature will be revived while also manifesting a ghost. Only the ghost retains the memories and personality of the creature. The living version is a husk—a ghost in its own right.

You come across a most unusual artifact. It whispers to you—promises you untold power. The offer is tempting. Before you could act on it, however, a cloaked stranger warns you of its dangers and the corruption it can sow. What do you do?

The third hand and hidden eyes tilted my trajectory of research. I found myself drawn to the occult, of the strange manifestations of life and death that taunt all of us in this world.

Surprisingly, the next breakthrough in my search—a spell called Paradox of Ghost—was inspired by an artifact I found peddled in the streets. A ring. When I saw it, my third hand tingled. Which, okay, was very strange, but it was also how I knew I was in the presence of something magical.

The vendor seemed completely uninterested when I told her I’d buy it. I brought it home, placed it under my lens, and began scrutinizing the markings. Dwarven. The symbols seemed to speak about the mortal veil, though they shimmered and danced under my watch. Inspired, I began to write frantically in my spellbook. Yes… these runes… and these symbols… they make this spell. I felt a grin widen across my face. More power. Yes, yes. More, please.

I had a fitful sleep that night. I dreamt of half-living things, undead zombies controlled by manic necromancers. And the thundering footsteps of dead giants…

Thum

Thum

Thum

Then I realized. It was no giant. It was someone banging on my door. Someone who wanted to see me.

I leaned on my crutch and shambled to the door. Eppy? No. Eppy would be home, with his children. This was someone more sinister.

“I assure you; I am a proficient wizard most capable of killing you,” I spoke clearly. “State who you are.”

A gruff voice boomed through the wood. “You have it wrong. I’m here to save you. That ring is no ordinary trinket. It steals souls.”

A chill ran down my spine. Magic is taxing on the soul because magic runs on its energy, on soul’s essence. If a soul were stolen, the owner can no longer cast magic.

“How do you know this?” I demanded.

“Because I made it,” he said. “Now open the door, so we can talk like civilized people.”

Something in me wanted to trust him. Still, I took a dagger and clutched it behind my back. If I was too slow to utter a spell of killing, at least I could try to physically defend myself. I let him in.

The dwarf sat down brusquely on my table. “As I said. That ring is dangerous. It meddles in soul transmigration. The witch-queen forced me to design it that way.”

“So, you designed it. Why are you warning me?”

“That ring, it’s like a battery. Well, you don’t know what batteries are, you’re too ignorant to know about real things, the mechanical ingenuities that we dwarves know. Not your fault.”

Excuse me?

“But anyway, that thing has charges. The more sorcerers use it, the more arcane energy they feel, but they also sacrifice bits of their soul to it. The more bits of soul it eats, the hungrier it gets. So, it eats more, and eats more, until the sorcerer is just a husk. And then it moves on to the next.

It keeps doing this. It gets so overfull with the souls of sorcerers that it starts craving more. Not just the souls of its bearers. Even the souls of people, all innocent-like, just standing next to it. Sinless. No teeth in the game. Just their souls gone, just like that.

We’re getting at that point. You’re the last bastion. When I was freed from the witch queen, I made it my mission to track down the ring. Now you have a real chance of stopping the worst thing from happening.”

I smiled.

• Versus Difficulty 8
• Roll result: 8, 6, 2 One success

“I think I’m keeping it,” I said.

“No! I won’t let you!” he howled and leapt across the table. Surprised, I take out my dagger out of instinct—we fall together, and everything is lost in a flurry of motion. Weak as I was, I still tried to protect myself as best as I can, and stab. I felt blood. It ran down my face. When I came to my senses, there were bruises all over my body…and a dead dwarf in my house.

I sat up, horrified. No no no. He was only trying to help me. What have I done?

Wait. My new spell could revive people. He would be a husk, but he would also have a spirit that can live on, in its own way. He would have memories and a personality. I hurriedly cast it on him.

His body seemed to heave. It stood up and blinked at me. A transparent apparition floated from it, bearing a shocked face. “What have you done, you fool?” it moaned. At the same time, his body started to walk out of the door.

“You…you’ll be okay. You can always seek out a necromancer, ask them to put your spirit back in your body…”

“You have doomed the world!” his ghost groaned. With a painful moan, it split into a hundred fractured pieces and left my home.

I shuddered. Whether out of pain, or out of horror, I do not know. All I know was that a terrible thing had just come to pass. All for a trinket.

• Power: 1
• Focus: 0
• Perfect Control
• Scars: Rotting Disease, Tertiary Limbs and a Hidden Eye, Bewitched by the Ring

I have gained power, somehow, by learning more and more complex spells. I feel an even greater appreciation for magic, and the many wonders it holds. Somehow, I am a contradiction: capable of studying magic for the greater good, capable of shallow cruelty for the merest glimpse of power. I wonder what the future holds for me—and whether I will survive it.