When I was a child first learning the ways of magecraft, I found that a swarm of ants had found a path into our home in their quest for food. Aggrieved by the loss of my sweets to the horde, I tracked the trail of criminals back to the anthill that was their source. Without a second thought, I used my burgeoning talents to flood it from top to bottom, and then flash freeze it, trapping my newfound enemies in an icy tomb.

Flush with pride from my glorious victory, I returned to my mother, reading in her study, and told her the entire sordid tale of my conquest. I remember her expression well - the mask of the unimpressed, touched by a hint of vague amusement. Flustered by her lack of approval, I repeated the story again with added fervor, as perhaps she'd misheard me the first time.

It took some time before she closed her book and met my eyes, speaking in the gently reproaching voice mothers are fond of - "Sanai, darling, you've stopped them for now, but you'll never get rid of them that way."

Perplexed but unbowed, I returned to take my well-earned prize from the remaining sweets, envisaging myself a glorious hero. I did not put them away nor secure them, and indeed I dared the enemy to show their face once again.

The next morn, I found them besieged once again.

-- SV

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Solis, in the year 34 AM.