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Oh, no! She’s not going to die like that, in the middle of nowhere and oblivion. She must, she must leave something behind… Only, what?

Lost in her thoughts, the witch, soaking in the sun, soon fell asleep. The lullaby of the wind rustling the young leaves and the chirping of the countless birds that inhabited the thickets near the marsh lulled her into a deeper and deeper reverie of her past.

***

A hundred and fifty years ago, Ilfania was a veritable haven for magic.

Who hasn’t met in its forest thickets, high mountains, and cool lakes? And there is no need to talk about the Marshlands.

Mermaids and woodsmen, goblins and dwarves, trolls, faeries and even dragons.

And there was no shortage of mages and witches. Well, not so many that their art ceased to amaze, but many. And their skills were valued: they could heal a cow, help a woman in labor, or help a king in battle. Oh, well, yes, they could also send rot on the neighbor’s field or boils on the old miller’s ass. Yes, it happened. But for the cause! Yes, yes!