Her notes read, ‘Limited dust. Limited rust. Thoughts in the head, all are dead.‘ A kamikaze of words to attack her opposers from within. It was a test hex she’d coerced into existence with her novice-level skillset in witchcraft.

‘The words must rhyme,’ she told herself, but beyond that, the language didn’t matter much — it was all the magical force instilled in the sounds themselves that wrought forth the intended action. In this case, she was looking to simply stifle any negative thoughts there may be about her in the world.