🧙‍♂️ TAP TAP TAP… 

Is this loud glowing box thing working?

A-HA! I see the little blinky light blinking. That means it’s working, yes? No? Too late—I’ve already started.

Welcome to Zosimos Says So!

A blog. A brain spill. A magical cry for help. An overly long scroll of things I find important even if no one else does.

I am—brace yourself—

Zosimos the Eccentrically Enchanted, Unofficial Alchemist of the Wizard Coven, Twice-Banned Mushroom Merchant, and Grand Commander of the Disappearing Sock Society.

You’re welcome.

🐸 Who the frog am I?

Some folks call me a menace.

Others call me completely unqualified.

Still others just shriek “NOT AGAIN!” and dive into hedges.

That’s fine. I’m here anyway.

And now I have:

A keyboard.

A wand.

And a frog.

OH, FROGGY FROGS!

They are both vile and cutesy-cute at the same time!

They make delicious morsels—for breakfast, lunch, second breakfast, tea time, and funerals.

They are also slippery little demon meatballs, and when I try to catch one as it hops away, well…

DAMNED.

STUPID.

FROGS.

Don’t ask.

🧠 What is this blog? What will I do with it? Will there be snacks?

Great questions! Shut up and I’ll answer:

Behind-the-scenes mayhem from Pazzaria Productions

Spark the Flying Frog sightings (and recipes, maybe)

Insight into our books: The Spellbook, The Legend of the Lost Rose, Elyndor and whatever else the elves haven’t stolen yet

Magical merchandise highlights! (Some of it even legal!)

Secret future project leaks that I probably wasn’t supposed to post but OOPS

Enchanted food, wizard fashion, why my left shoe talks at night, and…

Wild theories about whether Spark is a savior… or a snack

✨ Why should you read this?

Because:

I once turned a tax form into a goose (accidentally).

I’ve got insider knowledge on Pazzaria’s magical universe (or at least strong opinions).

I might drop mystery spell codes or forbidden coupons.

You love chaos. And frogs. And the chaos of frogs.

🧪 Blog Subtitle Suggestions I Rejected:

“Definitely Not Cursed”

“Chronicles of a Wand-Wielding Moron”

“Oops! All Magic!”

“I Shouldn’t Have Eaten That Glowstick”

📜 Closing Nonsense

So stay tuned, my twitchy little toadspoons!

I’ll be posting spells, secrets, and strangely accurate predictions (like: “Tomorrow, someone will sneeze.” Told you.)

This blog is now cursed blessed with my presence.

Until next time—

I remain (somehow),

Zosimos the Eccentrically Enchanted

The wand is fine. I’m the problem. 🧙‍♂️🐸💥

I will begin by stating that I was not looking for the Lost Rose.

That is a lie.

I was absolutely looking for it.

It started in Elyndor — as these disasters often do — with a tremor beneath the spires. Not an earthquake. More… a correction. The kind that makes the air feel like it is reconsidering you.

Spark noticed it first, obviously.

He stopped mid-leap and stared at nothing.

Which is how you know it was something.

“Do you feel that?” he asked.

I told him no.

I was lying.

The Spellbook had been restless all morning.

Pages shifting.

Ink warming.

One incantation repeating itself quietly as if clearing its throat.

That is never encouraging.

Naturally, I did what any seasoned wizard would do:

I opened it.

Immediately.

With confidence.

This was mistake number one hundred and twelve.

The moment I spoke the phrase — not loudly, just properly — the horizon bent.

Just slightly.

A seam of red light split the edge of the forest and for one singular, glorious second…

I saw it.

The Lost Rose.

Not blooming.

Not dying.

Waiting.

You must understand — it does not glow like a lantern. It pulses like a heartbeat you are not certain belongs to you.

I took one step forward.

Spark grabbed my sleeve.

Apovil went silent.

And when Apovil goes silent, the world holds its breath.

I was certain — absolutely certain — that I had aligned the forces correctly. That I had calculated the movement of Blue Pixie Dust, the Coven’s influence, the lingering spell architecture from the first binding.

I am very good at calculating.

The Rose, however, is better at humbling.

The ground shifted.

The seam closed.

The forest snapped back into place as if nothing had occurred.

Spark blinked.

Apovil exhaled.

The Spellbook shut itself.

“I nearly had it,” I announced.

Spark tilted his head.

Apovil did not dignify this with commentary.

Here is what actually happened:

I did not find the Rose.

The Rose allowed me to see how far I still had to travel.

Which is much worse.

If you ever believe you have mastered the Lost Rose, I advise you to sit down immediately.

Preferably somewhere soft.

It is not found.

It is approached.

And only when it decides you are no longer attempting to win.

I will try again tomorrow.

With slightly less confidence.

gloomydonkey

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