I carefully finished arranging each sample in my magical earth pile, making sure to label them for future observation.
As the stained glass windows lightened, I made myself and Stormy breakfast, my mind buzzing with anticipation about what changes the days might bring to my diverse collection of materials.
I lit some candles to provide myself with light as the sky was extra-overcast today, snow falling heavily. Staring at the various jewels and crystals in my possession, I added more writing to the Codex, having arrived at an idea.
Hypothesis: Magical energy can be observed through crystalline structures that have been exposed to my domain's influence, similar to how certain materials can detect specific types of radiation or electromagnetic waves.
This idea wasn't entirely without precedent in the scientific world I remembered. For instance, scintillation crystals were used to detect ionizing radiation, converting the energy of incident radiation into visible light. Similarly, piezoelectric crystals could convert mechanical stress into electrical signals and vice versa.
If magic in this world operated on principles analogous to electromagnetic or quantum phenomena, it stood to reason that properly aligned crystalline structures might be able to interact with or detect it.
Experimental Design:
Select crystals of various compositions and expose them to my domain's influence for extended periods.
Construct a viewing apparatus.
Use the apparatus to observe various objects and areas:
- My domain soil
- Plants grown in my domain
- Regular soil and plants
- Living creatures
- River Glinka
Record observations, noting any unusual visual phenomena, colors, or patterns that aren't visible to the naked eye.
Create control apparatus with unexposed crystals.
I paused my writing. I didn't have a big variety of similar gems on hand.
If anything, I could definitely compare regular glass to witch-irradiated glass. I've had a lot of that in my domain and outside of it. I returned to my outline.
Compare observations between witch-exposed crystals and mundane ones to rule out optical illusions or confirmation bias.
Vary crystal exposure times and arrangements to see if it affects results.
If successful, attempt to quantify the "magical" phenomena observed.
I went on to outline twenty more crystal apparatus ideas and how they might work in terms of magical tracking, filling the pages of the codex with a multitude of ideas.
Looking at the barrels stacked in the corner of the pub, I recalled the Sirin's words and Minnow's confirmation about how witches gain power: through their domain's gradual processing of organic material, particularly bodies.
"A bit morbid," I muttered to Stormy, who was batting at a loose thread on my sleeve, "but science demands sacrifice... just not mine, thankfully."
The shed where I'd stored the preserved bodies from the Sirin's tree was still there. Most bodies were in various states of crystallization from exposure to the Sirin's magic, but some remained relatively untouched—ordinary human and animal remains.
I gathered several empty barrels from the pub's storage area and filled them with my domain earth. The soil felt warm between my fingers, alive in a way that regular dirt simply wasn't.
"For science," I reminded myself as I dragged the first corpse from the shed. The man had been one of the Sirin's victims—his throat bore the distinctive three-claw marks of her talons.
I laid him carefully in the first barrel, covering him completely with the violet-tinged soil. "Rest well. Your contribution to the Warlock thesis is appreciated."
By midday, I had prepared three barrels, each containing a different specimen: the adult male, a woman, and what appeared to be a forest animal—perhaps a fox. Each was completely submerged in my domain soil, like macabre flower pots awaiting an unusual bloom.
I labeled each barrel noting the condition and approximate age of each subject, and positioned them around my sleeping magic-earth sled in an equidistant triangle.
The kitten watched with apparent disinterest, more concerned with a dust mote floating in a sunbeam than my necromantic gardening project.
With the barrels prepared, I turned my attention to the crystallized rocks I'd discovered in my domain.
"If regular rocks can become crystalline," I reasoned, selecting a particularly clear specimen, "then perhaps they can be fashioned into lenses that might reveal aspects of magical energy invisible to the naked eye."
I retrieved the metalworking tools I'd salvaged from the blacksmith's shop, particularly the modern ones with the crow logo. With these finer instruments, I began the painstaking work of shaping the first crystal.
Working with unfamiliar materials required patience. The crystallized rock was harder than glass but more brittle in certain directions. I discovered it had distinct cleavage planes—lines along which it would split cleanly-ish when struck properly. Using this property, I gradually began to shape a crude lens about the size of a large coin.
The process was tedious and time consuming. As the afternoon wore on, I lost myself in the rhythmic grinding and polishing. I also made sure to preserve all of the crystal dust in a glass jar.
By evening, I managed to make a single witchglass lens. It was somewhat lopsided and not very transparent. Looking through it did absolutely nothing except make the view blurry and purple-tinted. I definitely lacked rock-polishing skills and my hands felt wooden.
As I slumped back into my magic pile, I glanced at the cold well cover and realized that I had a potential assistant who was theoretically stronger than a human, someone with magic powers that could potentially shape rocks, not just break doors open.
"Hmm," I muttered, tapping my fingers against my knee. "Magic beast murder might be significantly easier than trying to become a master craftsman with rock-grinding skills overnight."
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Stormy's ears perked up at my voice, and she fixed me with what felt like a judgmental stare despite her milky eyes.
"Don't look at me like that," I told her. "It's purely pragmatic. I need better tools or assistance, and our feathery friend downstairs could help if I brought her something magical to eat."
The kitten blinked slowly, unimpressed.
"I'm not going to go on a magic critter murder spree," I said. "But something non-sapient wouldn't be the worst idea. I just need to know where to look…"
As if summoned by my words, a soft scratching came at the window. I tensed, hand moving to my knife, but relaxed when I recognized the small shadow pressed against the glass—Minnow had returned.
I opened the window, letting in a gust of cold air along with the little nav. In the cloudy gloom, Minnow was blurred halfway into the shadows, only those black eyes remaining distinct.
"Harbor-giver," the nav greeted, voice like rustling leaves. "I return with news, as promised."
"Perfect timing," I said, closing the window behind the small creature. "I was just considering a problem you might be able to help with."
Minnow tilted its head, waiting.
"Are there any magical beasts around here that I could hunt?"
The nav's black eyes widened slightly. "Many such creatures dwell in these woods. White Blight-touched wolves move in packs across the forest—their fur glows with frost-fire when moonlight touches them. Burrow-drakes nest in the western hills—small, lizard-like things that breathe steam instead of fire. Ghost hares leap between shadow and light at dusk..." It paused, studying me. "Why does the warlock seek such prey?"
I hesitated, then decided honesty might yield better results. "I need to feed my Sirin."
Minnow went utterly still. "You did not vanquish her?”
“How did you know about the vanquishing?” I asked.
“Her domain-tree is dead, no longer casts its hungry heartbeat into the Astral,” the little undead replied. “She was here and her blood was spilled all around this pub, presumably by you. Where is she? I cannot detect her.”
"She's in a magical healing trance in my cold well. Said she would wake if I brought her magical meat to eat,” I said.
The nav backed away slightly, its form growing more translucent. "You... you've kept the Sirin alive? The beast whose song binds souls and whose hunger never ends?"
"She's contained," I assured it. "Weakened, too small to be a major threat. And potentially useful."
"Useful?" Minnow's voice rose an octave. "Like keeping a viper in your bed for warmth! Sirins cannot be trusted, cannot be tamed."
"She's not exactly a willing servant," I said. "More like a prisoner who might have valuable information. And skills I need."
Minnow's form rippled with what might have been agitation. "What skills could such a monster offer that would outweigh the danger?"
"She's lived for centuries. Knows things about this world that neither of us do. And," I added, gesturing to the crude lens I'd been working on, "I suspect she has greater control over magical materials than I do. Can you shape a rock into a lens?”
“No, I cannot.” The nav drifted closer to examine my handiwork, then made a sound like a small sigh. "The warlock plays with fire. But..." it seemed to consider, "perhaps fire is needed in these cold times."
I nodded.
“Oh! Before I forgets,” Minnow's voice dropped. "The Threshold has shifted its position within the village six times. Each time, it stands in a different place, always facing the sun."
“What? It moves? By itself?"
"Not while observed," Minnow clarified. “I suspect it hungers for new prey. It looks different each time, tries to draw me into its maw with a different prize that appeals to the curious.”
"Right, the creepy building creeps around. Anyways, magical beasts," I pressed. "Which would be easiest for someone like me to hunt? I'm not exactly a seasoned warrior. I need something stupid that mostly sees things via the Astral, no mundane eyes.”
The nav perched on the edge of a table, its black eyes glittering in the firelight as it considered my words.
"Ghost hares are plentiful near the southern edge of the forest—they hop between worlds, visible only when they wish to be. They are drawn to places where magic pools, like springs or stone circles. Their weakness is their curiosity—they will investigate strange sounds and can be trapped with simple snares. They have both astral and mundane sight."
Minnow gestured with a slender hand. "Frost weasels burrow through snow and ice as fish swim through water. They see magic and heat. They hunt in small packs of three or four, and can be lured with warm objects. They're dangerous only in groups but are easily confused if separated."
The nav's voice grew quieter, more cautious. "There's also a troll that lumbers through the northeastern woods—a massive, lumbering thing with skin like bark and moss for hair. It stands nearly four men tall but is slow and not terribly bright. Trolls rely almost entirely on Astral sight—they're practically blind in the physical world, feeling their way by scent and the vibrations of footsteps."
“Is a troll nutritious?”
Minnow's tiny form shuddered slightly. "A troll would provide much meat, much magic—enough to satisfy even a death-starved Sirin. Their weakness is their size and slowness. They cannot turn quickly or fit through narrow spaces.”
“I see,” I said.
"But," the nav added hastily, "trolls are dangerous, warlock. Even weakened, even slowed, they have strength enough to crush stone and uproot trees. A single blow from their fists can shatter bones.”
“Is that all the creatures?” I asked. “I expected more.”
"There are other beasts as well—wind-swept hawks that ride the currents above flitting between here and elsewhere, their feathers trailing ectoplasm like smoke; burrowing crystal-snouts that dig through stone as easily as soil, leaving tunnels lined with glittering mineral deposits; thorn-backed boars whose bristles secrete a poison that induces nightmarish visions. Crystal spine elks that can fry their enemies." The nav gestured toward the forest beyond the window. "But they are spread far out, too far for you to reach easily on foot. This dying land teems with beasts born of Celestorms, warlock. The question is not what you can hunt, but what is worth the risk of hunting."
I nodded, considering my options. A troll sounded promising—if it relied on Astral sight and was slow, my domain-infused backpack might give me a significant advantage. I could potentially remain invisible to it while setting traps or preparing an ambush. I could leave some traps for the hares too.
"Tell me more about the troll," I said. "Where does it live and hunt?”
"The troll dwells in a cave near the old quarry, about an hour's walk northeast from here,” Minnow replied. “Trolls are solitary and territorial—this one has claimed much of the northeastern forest as its hunting ground."
It paused.
"Its other weakness is water—not that it harms them, but deep water confuses their senses. They cannot swim and fear drowning. They, like us, dislike sunlight for it hardens their muscles and slows their movements.”
“What about fire?”
“Fire will burn a troll, yes… but only for a bit, damaging the top layer, not enough to kill.”
“Hrm,” I pursed my lips. “Tell me more about the crystal elks.”
"They roam the northeastern forests in small herds, typically three to seven beasts. They appear as ordinary elk at first glance, save for their antlers which shimmer like blue quartz in the light. When threatened, the crystals pulse with blue-white light, and they can unleash lightning at their enemies."
"How dangerous are they compared to the troll?"
"Less physically powerful, but more lethal in their attack," Minnow replied. "While a troll might crush you slowly, a crystal elk's strike could end you in an instant. They see with both mundane eyes and Astral perception—however, their thunder strike requires Astral focus to target." The nav's voice lowered. "Many hunters have fallen to these beasts, thinking them easy prey until Perun’s fury was channeled through those antlers."
"But if I'm invisible to Astral sight within my domain..."
Minnow nodded. "They would struggle to target you with their power, yes. But they could still see you with their mundane sight and trample you beneath their hooves."
I paced the room, considering. "What about their weaknesses?"
"They cannot fully maintain their power in wet conditions," Minnow said. "Rain or snow dampens their ability to channel lightning. And like most magical creatures, they have a vulnerability—in their case, iron disrupts their focus, breaking the flow of energy through their bodies to their antlers. Arrows with iron tips might not kill them outright, but would cause them great distress."
This was promising. I had access to iron and arrows, and my domain-infused backpack might give me protection from their most dangerous ability. "Where can I find these crystal elks?"
"They usually gather at sunrise near the frozen pond east of the village," Minnow replied. "They come to drink from the small spring that still flows beneath the ice—one of the few unfrozen water sources remaining."
“Can you guide me there?”
“I can,” Minnow nodded. “Tomorrow morning, before sunrise. Wake up early or keep a window open for me.”
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