Inside Wishville: A Candid Chat with Vex (Half-Cat, Half-Whispen, Full attitude)

By Lyra Wells—Guardian of the Well, reluctant interviewer, and frequent chaos manager

Lyra: Welcome readers to Inside Wishville! Today’s guest is none other than my partner-in-mystery and chief snark officer, Vex the Whispen Cat.

Vex: Chief Snark Officer? Finally, a proper title. Took you three centuries.

Lyra: Don’t start. We’re here to talk about life in Wishville, the upcoming Spring WishFest, and—unfortunately—the recent death of antique dealer Samuel Greer.

Vex: Ah yes, the human who thought ancient memory crystals made great collectibles. May he rest in enlightenment.

Lyra: That’s…not how enlightenment works.

Vex: Depends on the crystal.

Lyra: Anyway. Wishville is in a bit of turmoil. Between festival prep, a murder investigation, and a new police chief determined to cancel half our traditions, I’m running on coffee and questionable hope.

Vex: To clarify for readers, the coffee comes from The Twisted Loaf, brewed strong enough to revive the dead. Convenient, considering our current circumstances.

Lyra: (Glares) The Spring WishFest is our town’s biggest event—stalls, music, the ceremonial wish tokens, everything. It keeps the treaty between humans and Dwellers intact. But the new chief, Holden Thorn, thinks it’s too dangerous.

Vex: He also thinks wishes are a public-safety hazard. I think he’s allergic to joy.

Lyra: He’s…cautious. Ex-Marine. Detective. Very—

Vex: Cranky.

Lyra: —dedicated.

Vex: Cranky and dedicated. A rare combination. The man walks around like he’s perpetually narrating a noir film.

Lyra: He’s been trying to protect the town since the murder. And I can’t exactly explain that the wishing well beneath the forest clearing is a living portal guarded by an ancient treaty without ending up in his incident report.

Vex: I could explain it.

Lyra: You explaining anything usually ends with someone fainting or me having to erase memories.

Vex: So? Efficient.

Lyra: (Sighs) Let’s switch topics. Tell everyone what your job actually is—besides napping on sacred artifacts.

Vex: I am a Whispen, a Dweller familiar born between worlds. My duties include maintaining the balance between Elarion and the mortal realm, translating inconvenient magical energy, and offering superior commentary while my human halves panic.

Lyra: “My human halves”?

Vex: You know what I mean. Half-human, half-Dweller. Half likely to follow rules, half likely to set them on fire.

Lyra: Speaking of fire…Elarion’s Chief of the Enforcers, Calderis, has been a little—

Vex: Broody.

Lyra: —intense. He’s overseeing the Dweller side of the investigation.

Vex: Which means he glares a lot, quotes regulations, and secretly worries about you more than he admits. It’s adorable, in a “my-father-runs-the-Council-and-I-can-smite-you” sort of way.

Lyra: You’re impossible.

Vex: You invited me.

Lyra: Fair point. Calderis has his reasons. The treaty depends on balance, and Samuel Greer’s death might have disrupted that. When a human dies near the well, holding a memory crystal, people start asking questions we can’t answer.

Vex: You mean, “questions that could unravel three centuries of secrecy and spark another war.” Minor detail.

Lyra: Exactly. So, while Holden investigates from the human side, Calderis investigates from the Dweller side, and I’m somewhere in the middle—again.

Vex: The eternal theme of your life: between two worlds, surrounded by idiots.

Lyra: (Chokes on laughter) Vex!

Vex: I meant that affectionately. Mostly.

Lyra: All right, let’s talk about the upcoming WishFest before you get us banned from public relations entirely.

Vex: Too late for that.

Lyra: This year’s Spring WishFest will feature handmade crafts, enchanted soaps, Betsy Plum’s famous cardamom knots, and, as always, one lucky wish chosen by the well itself. The Wellies—Tilly, Belle, and Dot—have already declared themselves “Festival Security.”

Vex: Excellent. Nothing says “safety” like three retirees armed with glitter pens and premonitions.

Lyra: They mean well.

Vex: So did the settlers who started the first war.

Lyra: You’re in rare form today.

Vex: It’s all the excitement. Someone will make a forbidden wish, someone else will faint, and you’ll save everyone while Thorn grumbles and Calderis broods. Tradition.

Lyra: (laughs despite herself) You make it sound like chaos is the main attraction.

Vex: Isn’t it? Humans come for the hope. Dwellers watch for the balance. And I come for the pastries.

Lyra: If you steal another honey-lavender tart, I’m putting you on a leash.

Vex: You tried that once. The leash evaporated.

Lyra: Don’t remind me. All right, final question. What advice do you have for Wishville residents ahead of this festival?

Vex: Simple.

1. Don’t make wishes you don’t mean. The well listens.
2. Don’t drink anything Belle’s pigeons have touched.
3. And if you see me around, offer snacks. Preferably tuna-flavored.

Lyra: That last one’s not advice; it’s extortion.

Vex: I call it diplomacy.

Lyra: (Smiles at him fondly) There you have it, folks. Life in Wishville is never dull—especially with a magical cat, a brooding Dweller, and a stubborn police chief all circling the same mystery.

Vex: You forgot to mention the murder.

Lyra: I was trying to end on an optimistic note.

Vex: Then tell them this—no matter how dark things get, the well still grants light.

Lyra: That’s…actually beautiful.

Vex: I’m multifaceted. Like a crystal.

Lyra: You mean cracked.

Vex: Semantics.

Stay tuned, readers! Next week on Inside Wishville, Vex and I attempt to mediate a “friendly” debate between Chief Thorn and Chief Calderis about law enforcement, magic, and who has the better hair. Spoiler: neither of them knows they’ve agreed to it!

Want more of these two? Check out The Well-Kept Secret: A Wishville Mystery #1

A Spring Festival. A Magical Murder. A Secret Buried Beneath the Well.

Wishville, Vermont looks like a storybook postcard—complete with forest festivals, quirky locals, and a centuries-old wishing well that allegedly grants one wish each season. But for Lyra Wells, the magic isn’t just folklore—it’s her full-time job. As the half-human, half-Dweller Guardian of the Well, Lyra must keep the peace between the mortal world and the magical realm of Elarion. That means overseeing every seasonal WishFest, keeping tourists entertained, and pretending her glowing cat sidekick isn’t judging everyone.

But when an all-too-nosy antique dealer is found mysteriously dead by the well—and a rare memory crystal is discovered at the scene—the fragile treaty between worlds begins to unravel, and the ethereal Dweller chief enforcer isn’t happy. As the townsfolk whisper about curses and coincidences, something ancient stirs beneath the surface—and it’s not ready to stay hidden.