Archmagus Avelore Amantius had seen a great many things in his one hundred and eighty seven years of life, and he could confidently say he was done with all of it. Every damn species had problems, and those problems had snowballed into bigger problems, and now the problems wouldn’t leave him alone.

The sound of footsteps moving through leaves and underbrush felt far too loud, like the uncomfortable whispers of gossipers upon entering the room. Each crack of a twig was an accusation, and each rustle of grass comparable to judgmental eyes from corners of the forest.