NICO SEVER

The sterile glow of my workbench lighting artifacts illuminated an array of parts that were spread out over the dark wood. Silver runes ran around the edge and across the surface of the Imbuing workbench in circles of varying sizes.

I picked up two nearly-identical objects: hexagonal fittings with a series of grooves and notches etched into the inside. Both were alloys of silver rather than pure silver—I speculated these might perform better for housing active mana crystals, but I would have to experiment to see which silver held up better and resulted in a cleaner transfer of mana.

There were a thousand variables to consider while undertaking an Imbuing project as complicated as this, and I couldn’t afford anything less than perfection.

My eye caught on a blemish on the edge of one of the interior grooves in the fittings. With a frustrated breath, I tossed it back on the charwood workbench surface.

Yet another delay. That blemish is going to prevent the mana crystal from seating properly. And I’ll have to order a replacement from a different silversmith too.

My right eye twitched, and another memory of Earth invaded my focus.

In it, I was perhaps eight or nine, sitting by myself out behind the orphanage. With a small pocketknife in hand, I was whittling a stick I’d found in the street. Nothing special, just carving a bunch of circles around it so that it kind of looked like a pretend magic wand.

…

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