Sandra Paxter

Sandra Paxter (75mm, 120mm)

Sandra Paxter leaned against her weathered oak chest, its surface covered in arcane carvings that pulsed faintly with stored magic. Inside lay an assortment of enchanted trinkets—dried herbs bundled in twine, vials of shimmering liquids, and charms carved from bone—all waiting for the right buyer. Perched atop the chest, her enormous fluffy cat, Malkin, purred contentedly in his sleep, undisturbed by the faint glow of the artifacts beneath him. Sandra adjusted her patchwork shawl and smiled at the nervous client before her. "Love potion or curse removal?" she asked, her voice warm but laced with the sharpness of someone who knew exactly which one they really needed.

Her cottage smelled of cedar smoke and thyme, the air thick with the weight of whispered spells. Sandra’s services weren’t flashy—no crystal balls or dramatic incantations—just reliable, homegrown magic for those desperate enough to knock on her door. Payment varied: sometimes coin, sometimes secrets, once even a firstborn’s name (she’d returned that one—too much paperwork). As the client stammered their request, Malkin cracked one golden eye open, as if judging their worth. Sandra chuckled. "Don’t mind him," she said, already reaching into the chest. "He’s just deciding whether you’ll pay before or after the hex wears off."