Jorn envisioned himself as a calm serene pond as he grabbed the quartz charge and brushed a small amount of adhesive onto the plate in front of him.

I am still waters, he recited to himself, No ripples mar my surface. Pure emotionless pond.

He’d rather envision himself as a lake. But he’d learned over the years that he just couldn’t imagine an entire lake with nothing disturbing the surface. Which then defeated the point of the exercise.

Moving with deliberate efficiency, Jorn settled the thumb sized rectangle into a spot he had carefully etched out for the charge. Checking the edges that none of the adhesive inhibited contact with the lead paths embedded in the plate.

Suppressing a sigh Jorn moved the plate to stack with four identical plates already completed and grabbed a fresh plate to make the same exact thing.

Jorn wasn’t told who had made such a large order of essence purifiers, but they must have large resources. Artificer Greyfoot was known to be able to produce quality mana circuits for a reasonable price. But even so, Everyone in the shop was working on this order. Even the other applicants like him were allowed to work on the purifiers. Which can not be cost efficient. Jorn wasn’t the best applicant at the shop, but he was in the top three of the 12, and his fail rate was 1 in 3. Whoever put in this order was happy to pay for these mistakes if it meant a slightly faster delivery.

Jorn checked the new plate in front of him. Basic Iron with the pathways of the circuit chalked out. His essence stirred around him, but Jorn just returned to his mantra and cleared his mind.

He wondered if he’d be allowed to work on some of the more complicated components once he was a full apprentice. Journeyman Hash was working on an intricate piece of marble with tin wiring and Quartz charges that looked eye gouginginly complex. Jorn craved to assist him.

The tip of the tool that he was using came loose, wobbling as he scoured the line of the circuit. Cursing Jorn quickly fastened the chisel back into his grip and inspected the plate. Luckily he hadn’t introduced any flaws to the circuit, which was good. Two accidents had already happened around him today and he really didn’t want a third.

Peaceful calm spring air above a still pond, he thought. Calming the aura that surrounded him. Refusing to let his mind wander, Jorn finished the next plate. Now he just had to adhere the charge into its slot like before.

A familiar sensation caused a shiver of anxiety to run through him. No, he thought, I’m a calm lake; the aura that constantly surrounded him stirred. Pond i’m a serene pond with calm wind. Indifferent to his mandtra Jorn felt the aura clinging to his skin drift outward around his torso. Like a snake lazily tasting the air.

A lifetime of experience taught Jorn that changing his actions would only further stir up the cursed aura, so he continued. With practiced motions, Jorn prepared the adhesive and brushed it onto the spot. The aura spread out across the place, nearly invisible to the naked eye. Ignoring it Jorn placed the charge down and finished connecting it to the plate. The charge held tight.

Jorn let out a sigh of relief, smiling at his minor victory. Nothing the cursed aura could do to ruin this plate now. He would show Greyfoot that he could be an artificer, even with the aura. He’d been an applicant for 6 months now. The average applicant only needs 2 weeks before Greyfoot either takes them in or turns them down. Jorn was a special case. Despite having more skill than some of the junior apprentices, Greyfoot was hesitant to take Jorn on officially. All thanks to the Aura he was cursed with at birth.

Unsatisfied, the Aura spread across his workstation, examining the essence circuit laid out before it. Go for it, Jorn thought. There are no variables for you to manipulate.

The aura ignored Jorns' confidence, spreading across his worktable. As a chaos aura, most times it caused obnoxious intrusions into his daily life. Broken pencils, wobbly chairs, things falling on his head. Kind of like having an obnoxious ghost following you around just to make life difficult.

But this circuit handles essence flows and is made ‌of iron and lead. The aura wouldn’t be able to do anything to it. It’s one reason Jorn wanted to become an artificer. To build mana circuits that ‌the aura couldn’t mess with.

The aura around Jorn moved in a wave, panic flooding Jorn before he even knew what was happening. Anytime the aura moved with purpose like that was bad for him.

Like a malicious wind, the aura seized upon the stack of finished circuits, pulling the plates down onto the floor in a crash. The quartz charges spitting light as they broke in their housing. The others in the shop looked around in alarm at the noise. Accidents in an Artificer's shop can be dangerous considering the essence different tools utilised. Jorn himself had gotten second-degree burns from a broken circuit that stored enough fire essence to melt iron. He probably would have lost his hand if he weren’t part gremlin and had a measure of essence resistance as part of that heritage.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

It was a sucker’s deal in Jorn’s mind, considering the chaos aura that plagues his life, comes from the same heritage.

Wincing at the whining noise the broken circuits were producing, Jorn tried to salvage the plates, setting them back on the table to see what he could repair. But the light bouncing out of the charges made it difficult to focus on the lead circuits themselves, and Jorn could feel the aura stirring around him as his irritation grew.

An ivory cloud drifted on top of plates, the venting essence mixed with the cloud and calmed as the two mixed. Bright lights diffusing to a dull glow and high-pitched whistles slowing to a dull hum.

A voice over Jorn’s shoulder said, "You should really just keep one of these dowsing rods at your desk."

The senior apprentice on duty regarded the mess on Jorns worktable, "Or, maybe keep one on you. You seem to need it often enough."

Jorn rubbed his face, thankful that he didn't have hair; as he'd surely be pulling it out otherwise. "I was done. I put in just as much work as the full apprentices and something like this happens." Hesh looked at him with her large brown eyes. As a demi-human with mouse heritage, her eyes took up around 20 percent of her face.

"It can't be easy. Usually, naturally producing an aura is considered an advantage.” Not sure where to take the thought from there, Hesh just sighed, looking around awkwardly.

Jorn had heard statements like that his whole life. 'It sure is unfortunate you have a saboteur that is connected to your spirit.' Usually someone tried to add a caveat of some sort. Tying it to a life lesson if they were feeling especially pretentious. Jorn could appreciate that Hesh was enough of a realist to not try to make him feel better.

“I actually came over because Greyfoot wants to talk to you in his office.”

Greyfoot’s office wasn’t an actual office so much as an alcove separated from the rest of the shop by a pair of bookcases and an enormous chalkboard. Greyfoot sat at a table with various plans and materials strewn across the area. Just being there gave Jorn anxiety. Greyfoot himself was a tall being, just shy of 7 feet tall. Despite his size, Greyfoot was actually small compared to the goliaths that stay in the plains east of Kael Valley. “Young Vallen, good. I’ve been needing to talk to you. Come sit.” The man said, gesturing to a stool that appeared to be a huge spool of wire. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this; I’m mighty fond of you, but the fact of the matter is I can’t take you on as an apprentice.” The words hit Jorn like a guillotine. He felt like his intestines were trying to crawl out of his throat.

Obviously uncomfortable, Greyfoot continued, “Truth is, I’m strained to support the apprentices I’ve got. It’s a forsaken shame. You’ve a sharp mind and are a hard worker. It’s just that I’m spread thin as it is.” Greyfoot paused, gave Jorn an almost guilty look and said, “and honestly, with that chaos aura of yours, you go through too many resources. I just can’t afford it from a business view.” Greyfoot held a paper to Jorn, who reached for it mechanically but registered nothing on it.

“I’ve written a recommendation. You’re a quality kid. This is just a setback. You’ll come out the other side of this stronger.”

That pulled a dark chuckle from Jorn. He knew ‌artificery was a long shot. It seemed his diligence and skill didn’t make up for the liability that he presented. Responding to Greyfoot’s confused expression, Jorn said, “I’m sorry, It’s just funny to hear the whole ‘What doesn’t kill you strengthens you’ talk right now. This isn’t a setback. I’m finished, done.”

Greyfoot sighed. “Look kid, you’ve a rough heritage and that has you looking at things in a bleak light. But this is Kaelton. We don’t waste resources; or beings. There’s a place for everyone.”

Jorn forcefully prevented himself from rolling his eyes. Greyfoot wasn’t trying to be condescending. He just didn’t understand. “Master, look at me. I’m an orphan with an aura that actively tries to break things. I can’t even join the Dragon's Gate and guard the border to the ley-lands. This tilted aura is too much of a liability. The entire reason I tried Artificing is because circuits are naturally resistant to essence. Unfortunately, tables, chairs and whatever else isn’t. I’ve searched. I’m going to be stuck working the Wrecks.”

Greyfoot nodded. It had been clear for weeks that he couldn’t keep Jorn in the shop, but Greyfoot had stalled searching for a place for the youth. He came to the same conclusion. He’d be stuck somewhere he couldn’t do harm. Hard labor at the wrecks.

While there was the option of joining the Gatekeepers, but he was just an orphan. He’d need backing, which he’d never get. Mentioning the possibility would just give him false hope. “The Wrecks is a worthy project with a lot of great Kaelers working it with pride. It’ll be a great defense against excursions from the Ley-lands.”

Jorn nodded along. He’s heard the same points about the Wrecks project, “Sure, I agree. There’s no shame working the wrecks. But no Future either.” Jorn waved his arms in the air. “One of my friends from the Orphanage works the wrecks. He’s much more… durable than I am. Even he’s says he'll only make it a few years if he doesn’t land in a different trade.” Jorn gestured to his thin arms and wiry frame. Though he was in shape enough to keep his militia certification, he was still part gremlin. Gremlins, as part of the imp family, are long-limbed with little weight or strength. Jorn likely would always be under 150 lbs. He gave a hopeless shrug. “I’ll be disabled in 3 years.”

Greyfoot warred with himself. He hated to send the boy into such a difficult situation. But he had his own responsibilities, and Jorn couldn’t be one of them. Rubbing at his face Greyfoot said “You have two months before you get assigned something. I’ll keep my eyes and ears out, but you keep looking, too. There’s got to be something. What about weapons testing?”

Jorn stared at Greyfoot. Weapons testing? Was Greyfoot trying to get him killed faster? Then again, Jorn thought, at least it’d be interesting- Maybe it’d be better than moving rubble around in the Wrecks. “I’ll see what I can do.”