This was a part of the new world that I absolutely loved. The feeling of my mana shaping raw materials into a finished product, guided by my mind. I had made things before, but my efforts at carpentry in the before times was terrible compared to what I could make now. I felt like there was a block between my mind and my hands. The things I imagined never came out properly. But now, with magic; creation became easy for me, exhilarating. I wondered if this was what I had been missing this entire time. Magic, was my body somehow already looking for magic to use before the system came? That didn’t make sense to me, how could I be a magic user in a magicless world? I shook my head and put that aside.

I thought I should make some knives. Several people had already asked me for weapons but all I could really make were war clubs with stones or wands and staves. I thought I could ceramic knives. I was almost positive that was a thing.

The experimentation began with a sense of enthusiasm. Using my affinity for earth and water magic, I easily manipulated the soil and moisture to form the perfect slurry. The sensation of the elements bending to my will was intoxicating; it felt like conducting an orchestra, each movement precise and intentional.

However, my initial triumphs were soon met with challenges. When I tried to remove the water from the slurry using fire magic, the powder I was trying to make either became too coarse or too fine. The balance was delicate and I realized that my control over fire magic needed to be more nuanced. Too much heat and the material would crack or warp, too little and it wouldn’t dry evenly.

The mold making proved to be another hurdle. My first few attempts at shaping the ceramic knife were crude at best. The blade was either too thick, making it cumbersome to wield, or too thin, rendering it fragile. Each failure was a lesson, though, guiding my hands and mana towards greater precision.

I decided to infuse the mold with a touch of my verdant magic, envisioning the ceramic blade not just as a weapon but as an extension of nature itself. This seemed to imbue the mold with a subtle, yet tangible, resilience. When I filled this enchanted mold with the fine granulated powder and applied my fire magic once again, this time with a gentler, more controlled flame, I watched in fascination as the ceramic began to take shape.

Yet, the blade was not perfect. Upon cooling, I discovered cracks along its edge. My fire mana control was lacking and heating the metal unevenly. Frustrated, I realized the kiln I was using was interfering with my attempts. Or I wasn’t strong enough. Drawing upon my burgeoning connection to the land, I imagined a furnace fueled by my magic, a controlled environment where fire, earth and air could converge in even greater amounts.

I didn’t know how to make this kiln and so I stopped my attempts for the day and sought out to restore my mana from the days expenditures. I sank into a meditative state and cycled the world’s energy between me, the dimensional shard and the earth.

As the mana cycled, I studied the aspects of the mana motes I observed moving about me. The mana motes, each a tiny beacon of elemental energy, moved with an almost hypnotic rhythm, weaving through the air in intricate patterns guided by the natural flow of the world around us. Some were bright and fiery, flickering with the essence of fire; others were cool and fluid, shimmering with the essence of water. Earth motes were solid and steadfast, while air motes danced with a carefree lightness. Observing their movement, I sought to understand the delicate balance of elements they represented, a balance I had struggled to maintain in my crafting.

It dawned on me that my approach had been too forceful, too direct. Nature didn’t coerce the elements into submission; it guided them with a gentle hand, allowing them to find their own harmony. I needed to apply this same principle to my use of fire magic in the kiln. Instead of imposing my will, I should aim to collaborate with the elemental forces, guiding them to achieve the desired outcome.

With this revelation, I emerged from meditative state with a renewed sense of purpose. I approached the kiln once more, not as a dominator of elements, but as a partner. I extended my senses, feeling the natural flow of mana around the kiln, and began to gently coax the fire motes, encouraging them to dance and move about in the kiln.

I fell asleep to the gentle whisper of fire motes dancing in circles inside the kiln.

I was gently shaken awake the next morning. It was Jillian. I smiled sleepily up at her.

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She looked down on me. “What are you doing? You’re covered in dew! Have you been out here all night?”

I smiled again and drew a deep breath. “I guess. What can I do for you this morning?”

“I’m here for more crafting.” Jillian said. “We got things to make.” Jillian looked around my workspace. “What have you been up to?”

“I was trying to make a ceramic plate.” I explained. “I was making plates and bowls and wondered what else I could make.” I looked around at all the broken blades and mess of mud and dust covering the area. “I discovered a great number of ways not to do it.”

Jillian laughed, a warm, infectious sound that brightened the morning air even further. “I think there’s a famous quote about that,” she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Something about finding ten thousand ways that don’t work.”

I chuckled, pushing myself up to sit properly. “Yeah, Thomas Edison and his light bulb experiments. Too bad I just can’t buy someone else’s patents and drive them out of business with superior public relations.”

Jillian laughed again at my lame joke. She offered her hand to help me stand up. “Let’s see if we can increase your success rate a bit, shall we?”

Gratefully taking her hand, I found myself pulled closer to her than I had anticipated. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away. “That sounds like a plan,” I said, my voice softer than intended.

Jillian’s cheeks flushed with a delicate pink, but she didn’t pull away. “Before we get started, how about we try something a bit…warmer?” she suggested, her voice laced with a hint of mischief. “You mentioned wanting to control fire better. My forge could use a magical touch.”

The suggestion sparked excitement within me, not just at the prospect of honing my skills, but at the thought of working so closely with Jillian. “I’d love to,” I replied, the words barely covering the depth of my eagerness. “And maybe, while we’re at it, you can show me a thing or two about crafting that doesn’t involve ending up covered in mud.”

Jillian laughed again, leading the way to her forge. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep your magic in check. I’m rather fond of my forge, you know.”

“Don’t worry, your fire box is in safe hands.” As we walked, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation, not just for the lesson in fire control, but the opportunity to spend more time with Jillian. I didn’t understand what she saw in Carlos, but it wasn’t my place to judge.

Standing before the forge, Jillian turned to me, her gaze earnest. “Fire is more than heat and light,” she began, her voice taking on the cadence of a skilled artisan sharing her craft. “It’s life, passion, destruction and rebirth. When you control it, think of it not as bending it to your will, but as guiding a dance partner.”

I nodded, taking her words to heart. Focusing on the forge, I reached out with my mana, feeling the warmth of the fire as if inviting it to a dance. Jillian watched, her presence a calming influence as I carefully, gently coaxed the flames higher, then lower, finding a rhythm that felt natural, a harmony between my magic and the elemental force before me.

As the fire responded, growing steadier and more even under my influence, I couldn’t help but glance at Jillian, seeking her approval. Her smile, wide and genuine, was all the confirmation I needed. “You’re a natural,” she said, pride evident in her voice.

As I stood beside Jillian in the forge, the heat from the flames mingling with the metallic tang in the air, our project began to take shape under our combined efforts. With Jillian’s guidance, I focused inward, calling upon my earth mana to envelope the copper ore. Under the pressure of my will, the ore crumbled, transforming into a fine powder right before our eyes.

“Next step is to create a slurry,” Jillian said, peering at the powdered ore. “But we’re short on the usual chemicals for this part. I was hoping you could use my magic to separate the minerals and make the copper float to the top?”

No matter. I could do this. I wove together water and earth magic, manipulating the powder into a thick slurry. Concentrating further, I teased the denser copper minerals to the surface, forming a concentrate, much to Jillian’s approval.

“Time for the smelting,” she announced with an air of excitement. Together, we approached the furnace. Using my fire mana, I stoked the furnace to life, the temperature soaring until the heat from the furnace was a roaring beast crying for food. Jillian had a crucible ready and placed the copper concentrate into the furnace. My mana wove and danced around the flames. The charcoal took on a blue sheen from my mana. Jillian added the flux and the impurities began to separate and float away as slag, leaving behind the gleaming, molten essence of copper, which we poured into molds to cool into anodes.

By this point in the process I was exhausted. I had been channeling my mana the enter morning, I felt like I had been put through the wringer.

“I need a break.” I told Jillian.

She agreed with me easily. “I’ll say so. I could feel the amounts of mana you were pushing around. It was incredible. I felt like I was an ant standing beneath a mountain as it towered above me. How do you have so much mana?”

“I don’t know.” I answered. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No.” Jillian immediately answered. “They don’t. You’re something of a freak among the magic users I’ve since the Lightning. Anyways, we need to let these cool before we go to the next step. What do you say we go to Kim’s for lunch?”

“That sounds amazing.” I said. “I’m suddenly famished. Would have thought sitting here and staring into a fire would be so exhausting.”