March 2025 Prologue

Wayward wards grow wary when forgotten. Letters left misplaced laced with good intentions. Written by a mysterious Mistress, making a manifold of her predicament. Prone to mishap, is it good luck or none at all? Consequence of a foe not quite defeated. No fault of her nor the soon collateral. Since battles past time contracted and receded. Shattered glass now smoothed by the sand once held within. Cunning and unseen they creep just around the corner, how tragic it must be for the victim yet known? Some scholars study who's yet to come. Dread seeps into every calming thought so persistent, something lurking from its cage plans action against. What will you be?