Maggie, the first of the two magpies, starts out small β as a common thief, a forest bandit. She is greedy, cruel, and quick with mockery. But donβt be fooled by her initial defeat. While Anne and Pouchy move on, the Magpie does not forget. Her ambition smolders quietly, and when she returns, it is on the wings of revenge.
Sheβs not particularly smart in the classical sense. Not strong. Not charismatic. What she possesses is far more dangerous: ruthless persistence. The Magpie doesnβt give up. She adapts. She sniffs the air, senses which way the wind is blowing β and rises higher than anyone would expect from a mere scavenger.
Her talent isnβt in leadership or vision. Itβs in survival β and seizing the moment. With every new power, the Magpie finds a crack. With every collapse β an opportunity. Sheβs one of those figures who grow in the shadow of chaos, feeding on what others have discarded.
And since no one takes her seriously β since they remember only the thief, the nuisance, the jester β she flies under fateβs radar. Until itβs too late.
The Magpie is not a symbol of evil, nor of tragedy. She is a symbol of what happens when ambition meets emptiness β when the world forgets to guard against those it has ignored. She doesnβt seek a cause. She seeks an opening.
And always finds one.
