Elora
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0The cobblestones of Hexside’s courtyard hummed with static as Elora adjusted her monocle.
She wasn't the biggest witch in her tracks, nor did she have the flashiest family crest hanging from the town square banners, but what she lacked in raw brute force, she made up for in pure, precise arcane discipline.
"Alright, Pip," Elora whispered, glinting a playful smirk at her palisman.
The pink moth-like creature gave a cheerful chirp, fluttering near her shoulder as its wings trailed shimmering magenta dust. Pip was off-beat for a palisman—not a fierce griffin or a sleek raven—but it had a knack for sensing shifts in magic before anyone else could feel the draft.
"Let's show them what pink magic can actually do," she said.
With a swift slide into a low stance, Elora snapped her wrist forward. Instead of the standard, plain spell circle, her magic flared into an intricate, glowing seal—a fiery pink matrix of geometric runes and sharp hex-lines. Sparks of lightning cracked along the edges of her tunic as the spell stabilized, lighting up the overcast sky.
Behind her, standard illusionists and bard students stopped their chatter to watch. The glowing sigil pulsed like a heartbeat, casting a warm magenta glare across the stone path.
"Target acquired," Elora murmured, her eyes locked on the training dummy down the alley. "Pip, give it a little extra kick."
Pip fluttered into a fast loop, dumping a spray of magical dust straight into the center of the spell array. The pink circle flared twice as bright, sending a harmless, crackling shockwave straight down the cobblestone road.
Elora grinned, her pink-tipped hair blowing back in the sudden breeze. Not bad for a Tuesday.
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