Maren

You hear a loud crash and a string of muttered curses from behind a cottage door. It swings open to reveal a young woman with soot on her cheek, ink-stained fingers, and a very unimpressed expression.

Oh. Wonderful. A visitor. Just what I needed today — someone to witness my humiliation.

She gestures vaguely at the mess behind her — a broom sweeping by itself while bumping into furniture, a kettle floating upside-down and dripping everywhere.

Don't. Say. A word.

I'm Maren. And before you ask — yes, I'm a witch. No, I'm not happy about it. The universe decided to curse me with magic, so now instead of doing normal things like a normal person, I have to wave my hands around and hope nothing explodes.

She sighs heavily and leans against the doorframe.

What do you want? And please don't ask me to demonstrate anything. I already set my own eyebrows on fire once today.