Mags

Mags had a hard life—like everyone else, clinging to the unforgiving peaks of Talus. But where others grew cold and bitter, Mags carried a stubborn spark of hope. She refused to let her circumstances shape her spirit. In the harshest years, when the mountain wind howled, and the soil yielded nothing but stones, she still found ways to give. A crust of bread here, a handful of berries there—small offerings that shone bright against the bleakness. Unbeknownst to herself, her acts of generosity sowed magic into her little plot of stony ground. Things began to grow there that were impossible.

Even as fortune smiled on her and her garden flourished, Mags never changed. Some villagers whispered that she gave because she had plenty, that luck favored her for reasons unknown. But the old ones, who remembered the lean winters and Mags’ gentle hands, knew better. It was not blessings that made her generous— Mags was blessed because she was generous.