9.III

I know I am not even yet four decades into my workings of sorcery but can anyone explain this to me?

Why do they no longer pick the right one?

Lost brothers, sons, daughters, sisters, lovers, fathers and mothers.

All have gone into my waters and fallen to the dangers that dwell there.

Sicknesses, venomous creatures, tripping on soggy branches.

One of them this year even drowned!

Who goes into a bog that cannot swim?!

As the pact I made to their grandfathers and grandmothers, I take up each I can and shelter them in the grotto with the frogs.

I Make them whole and healthy of what tragedies fell them and keep them to wait for their loved ones.

As agreed one who is missing is taken home and as that insufferable woman insisted thirty years ago it is always by their choice whom is returned.

But it's been years since any of them have picked the one they say they seek.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

I do my best, I ask them if they are certain. They always say they are. But this last child didn't even pick a frog that had ever been human at all when she came looking for her brother!

Do they really care so little for their loved ones?

I remember caring about the difference.

Surely I remember that right?

Or is this like when the crocodile scales upset everyone at the market?

Have I just forgotten and they actually don’t want their loved ones back?

Did someone make a deal to claim and care for those left in my care after a time?

Can one of my elders in sorcery help explain this to me?

I worry I am losing touch.

The frog seemed happy if confused to have a human body, sister and father. I’m sure he will enjoy cutting wood as much as he did catching flies.

I made sure to put the words as his sister knew them into his head and what skills I knew he would need.

And the brother seems eager to make tadpoles with the lost fisherman’s wife.

Maybe this is fine?

They all seem happy with the results, I’ve even checked in afterwards to be sure before and no one complains about more than my own presence.

No complaints.

But does that make it right?

-Missive of Tsulogothulan the Black to the Circles of Wizardry.