A Wand’s Perspective
You find yourself alone in your bedroom with your pet rabbit Rae Rae. Going over the notes made from the telepathy class from earlier that day. You knew that as soon as you joined the Harmonia Academy, it would be hard to learn the ways of psychic magic. But no one told you how much reading there would be. And your note taking skills were not the greatest, so you decide to take a break from theory studies and try some practical magic instead.
Positioning your seat in front of the window, giving you a good view of people walking by, you straighten your back, glance over at Rae Rae and give her a smile. With one hand touching your head, you begin to recite a spell of mind reading using your inner voice. Staring out of the window, trying to focus on people in an attempt to read their thoughts.
After a few minutes of struggling, you finally hear a whisper. A feint voice that comes from the back on your mind. A second inner voice. It calls out in the psychic realm, but it doesn’t sound like the usual chatter you hear. It not speak of any kind of gossip or internal worries about exams coming up. Instead, it seemed to be aware of you listening and politely asked for help.
The shock of someone speaking with you directly near knocks you off your chair. Who was talking? How did they know you were listening to them? You scramble back to your perch and concentrate your mind, scanning the outside world for the voice again. You call out with a simple hello and it responds once more. The voice sounded old, soft. It continued to ask for help. An odd request but the fact anyone was communicating with you grabbed your attention.
Following the voice outside, it directs you to a corner of a path. The same path you could witness from your window. With a small box of rubbish and a park bench that looked too damp to sit on. But no one was here, were you being pranked? You concentrate your mind and call out to the voice once more. This time, the frail voice asks you to look for the time devices. Time devices? You turn your attention to the ground and to your surprise find a rather unusual item. A common wand with various time keeping contraptions bound to it with fraying threads, discoloured string and bent pins. As you pick up the strange stick, the voice returns politely greeting you.
Returning back to your quarters, you place it on the table and sit on the opposite side of the room. Staring at the wand. A wand. Wands can’t talk. Wands aren’t supposed to talk. Why does it talk? How can it talk? Why can I hear it? Who created it? Does it have a name? What is it doing outside? Dozens of questions and more race through your mind as you stare at the item you picked up. Finally, with an overwhelming urge to answer your thoughts, you open your spell book. Concentrate your mind and speak the first question that comes to your head.
"So, what’s the first thing you can remember?"
"I am not sure. It certainly was not my creation. I did not have sentience from the very beginning. I could not formulate thoughts or conceptually understand anything. Similar to your kind in a state of infancy. You do not recall the events of leaving the womb or fed by your mother every night. The first memory is implanted when something significant occurs, which impacts you so deeply that you cannot help but remember it. By that logic then, my first memory came from the first powerful spell I successfully casted.
An erasure spell, casted by what I can only assume was my creator. After a period of time, I cannot confirm. The sensation of aura running through my grains as it absorbed the chromatic energy of clocks, stopwatches and hourglasses surrounding me. It felt, vibrational. A jolt of pure bliss intertwined with the pain of overstretching a limb. Mixed with a chill from bitter winds and the sound of crackling in my mind. A surreal sensation I do not intend to forget. From that moment on, my consciousness rose from hibernation will continue to grow until my demise."
"Sorry, did you just say an erasure spell? Like, conjuration magic?"
"Incorrect, the time erasure spell. An incantation used to void an item or creature from existence across the timeline."
The psychic hall where this conversation is taking place between you and this wand goes quiet. The voice of the wand calmly waiting for you to continue the conversation.
"What are you?"
"I am a wand. An instrument that is used to aid magic creatures channel their intentions in a controlled manner. Often being used by younger sorcerers such as yourself during training encounters. Lessons. I believe that is what your kind call it."
"Well, yeah? But like... You’re a wand, I can see that, but a wand that can talk. And a wand that can talk telepathically?"
"That is a correct interpretation of my state of being."
Your brain begins to hurt as you try to wrap your head around the concept of a talking wand. With an increasing number of confusing thoughts bouncing around your head, it is proving difficult to keep the psychic connection stable. Without intention, you raise another question for the talking wand.
"Why do you have so many clocks on you?"
"The time devices are a source of temporal energy. I am able to drain this energy when required and increase the rate at which the incantation is casted. Due to structural damage over the years of my existence, the devices have become a hinderance to those who use me as a tool for spell casting.
I recall a demonstration of this act of casting delay, an encounter involving multiple fireballs and a previous master. Some sentient being of hot skin and affinity to fire was in a situation which caused them to panic. I felt the sweat from their palm as they attempted to cast fireball. But to their surprise and my own, I was unable to summon aura from the air nor could I converse with the elements to produce the spell. They tried again and again. Four times in total before I felt the grasp of their clammy hands loosen. The rush of air whipped around me as a I fell to the ground, heavy landing with the addition of the time devices.
I lay on the ground, pondering the events that just occurred. It was the first time that I was unable to convert magical energy at the time of casting. It felt, underwhelming. I am unaware of what happened to my master, but approximately 897961 seconds later a familiar sensation manifested inside my core. The element of fire roared at me, demanding that I perform the spell. I called out to the aura around me and shot a ball of flaming magic. Once. Twice. Three times.
The heat of fire surrounded my core as I heard the sound of wood popping and cracking under immense flames. The smell of burning trees suffocated the fresh air. My mind was overwhelmed with a sudden sensation of sorrow as potential wands yet to be crafted cried out for a life they would never experience.
Then, 54 seconds later, the final fireball erupted from my point and added more to the destruction that was quickly enveloping the environment. By the time the fires had deceased, I remained trapped under a pile of ash and woodland debris…"
Listening to the story of this wand adds so much confusion inside your mind and the telepathic link finally breaks. You slump in your chair, your head throbbing from the mental strain you just endured. As you press your hand against your head, you catch the wand sat idly on the desk opposite you. Patiently waiting to resume some form of conversation. Feeling as if the wand is staring back plainly, you decide to slowly creep out of your room and find some place to calm down. Grabbing Rae Rae out of her cage and taking her with you, just in case.
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