What’s a Bloo. Bloo is a stumpy rock like piece of a creature. Very odd looking but in a secure way. Bloo can be depended upon to keep things safe. He had a look about him that said “Do Not.” The kingdom was a pleasant place. There was no real cause for conjectures of “Do Not.” Bloo was unbothered.
Trinadia woke in the middle of the night because she felt something in her bed. She thought it was cat walking around trying to find a good spot to curl. She was deep in sleep so the movements startled her. When she opened her eyes and focused Cat was no where to be found. Her bed chamber doors were shut. This wasn’t the first time it had happened. Feeling uneasy she sat up in her bed fighting sleep. She lost that particular battle, drifting into a dreamlike space. This too was not unusual. She would have dreams that made some kind of sense, but no sense at all. Trinadia would awake with certain points swirling in her head. There had to be meaning behind these points. Points being the only way she could describe them. They had to be the point of the dream. They must be pointing her to something. She needed some answers. The dreams were happening awful frequent and it made her nervous.
Did we mention that Trinadia had no clue that her grandfather was a wizard?
She didn’t know. She had know clue how her life was about to change.
The next morning she ordered Bloo to seek Ms. Munrow.
“Your royal princessness” Bloo lamented when he felt she was being unreasonable with an order.
“Do as I say Bloo! Bring me Ms.Munrow! Now! Or I’ll feed you to the Ramose!” slamming her bed chamber room door.
“As you bid your royal princessness.” Scurrying through the castle corridors with not a minute to waste.
Bloo knew this couldn’t be good. The summoning of Ms. Munrow was a bad sign. Sworn to secrecy and one of the few people who knew about the spell on the kingdom, this thaumaturge had the power to unleash a hell no kingdom ever would be ready for.
What’s a Bloo to do? Pretend he couldn’t find her. Maybe she fell off of the cliff into the Ramose pit. If Bloo could cross his stubby little finger he’d wish for it. Oh how wishes come true. Especially before you wish them.