Shirley Steelheart, they call her. Bravest battle mage this side of the Silken Sea. Sure, she’s a little shaky these days, but she can still send you flying with a quick fireball.

It’s her fiery soul, I say. Few ever truly master firecraft, but it always came naturally to her. Surprising, really, that a gryphon like myself – a creature of air and earth – became her familiar, and not a toasty dragon. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I think I’m the luckiest gryphon on record. We spend all day fighting monsters, laughing and soaring, and then retire for a great feast cooked over open flames. Magnificent.

Perhaps it is that inner fire that keeps her going at ninety-three. I’m feeling the ache of age in my knees and claws, and my silver-dappled face shines a little more every day, but I don’t think anything will stop my Shirley.