A chilling gust blew through the workshop, scattering blue petals all across the desk. There was a crispness to the air that reflected the fading warmth. It had been several hours since the last customer came in. The witch’s shop was often busier around this time of year, but today’s quiet was unnatural. Eila slumped in her chair as the hours dragged on. The faint chimes of the clock echoed through the quaint little store. She had built the store on her own. Everything in this store held a purpose. That was Eila’s gift. Through her eyes, Eila saw deeper than most craftsmen, prying through the deepest secrets of the item, though the mechanism was still a little tricky for her to optimize. Even with her eyes, the dagger in her hands was a strange mess. Most magical items retained traces of the spell, especially if the weapon was forged prior. Yet this little trickster was made from magic, there were almost no enchantments on the weapon. Instead, it looked as though the weapon itself was forged from magic.
Eila was born a seer. On this continent and in this kingdom, being born a seer is the gateway to nobility. However, Eila held no proof of her ancestry, though she had connections to the crown. She had several run ins with the Queen and her children, though her favorite customer was the prince. Eila always tried her best to antagonize him, it was a fine line between pissing him off and easing whatever was stressing him. Eila preferred the prince’s visit whenever his fiancé was not with him. Mako was more relaxed when he was alone yet somehow, he smiled more whenever Alexandra was near. Eila found that dynamic quite confusing, but those two had always been that way ever since the three of them were teens.
A knock on the door interrupted Eila’s thoughts as someone entered the shop. Familiar threads of azure and silver streaked through the door as the prince himself walked in. His black hair had long thin streaks of silver despite his youth. The prince had a concerned look on his face as he muttered to himself. Eila spotted a large bow resting in his hands.
“Hey Eila, I just got back from an expedition. Could see if there are any curses on this bow?” the prince said.
It took a mere glance at the bow for Eila to notice the significant lack of magic flowing through the weapon. It was not something that one could fail to spot, unless they were a faulty seer. Such a trinket could never bear a curse even if the wielder poured all their magic into the weapon.
“Yes, my lord. From an initial inspection, the bow is not cursed,” Eila whispered.
Eila laid her eyes on the bow’s frame, tracing the strands of magic as they converged and twisted all over one another. In her opinion, it was a miracle that the weapon even was still holding together, let alone functional. Eila reached for her mana, spooling a white thread between her fingers. The more Eila stared at the bow’s frame, the more she noted the various designs that the maker had inscribed. The sorcerer crafted this in a rush, cobbling threads together in such haste that most of them could be removed or restructured.
“Mako, who made this bow?”
“I told you that I found it during an expedition. Eila, if I knew who made it, I would be certain that it wasn’t cursed. You start to get a feel for these things even if you can’t see the magic lines within the items,” the young man said.
The prince scratched his head, though he didn’t look guilty to her. Instead, Mako looked rather boyish for his age, reminding her of when she first opened her shop. They had both been around the age of 17, but even back then, they were still close friends. Mako had been much timider in those days. Yet now, he held his head higher when he walked, and his mana channeled through his body even at rest. Even among sorcerers, his presence was that of royalty. It was as though his body had melded with the magic within, composing an equilibrium that pulsed with each breath he took. Eila handed Mako the bow, pressing the weapon against the prince’s palm. Perhaps, the bow would respond with someone who exuded mana like Mako.
Yet, the bow sat, unmoving and unresponsive. Eila let out a soft sigh and pressed her fingers together. Once Eila spread her fingers apart, a white strand of magic stretched between her fingers. The seer took the bow back and threaded her white needle through the magic lines. Within just a few moments, Eila created a mana reserve enchantment from the scattered excess threads. As she began to work on more advanced enchantments, Eila paused halfway through a rapid cast stitch and unwound the stitching to its unfurled state.
“So, my prince. Might I ask who this weapon is for?”
“This one’s for the training hall actually. I need a bow that can hold magic for the news recruits to practice with. My bow is far too advanced for them to even try to use,” he said.
Eila snorted as she imagined one of the recruits attempting to use the prince’s bow. A weapon crafted by the Goddess of water herself, the icy bow was the most beautiful piece of weaponry Eila had laid her eyes on. Rumors spoke of Mako wielding the bow at the young age of nine years old where he hit a target from a distance well beyond a child’s normal means. Many nobles called him a prodigy, while those who opposed his mother’s reign called him a freak.
“I can see those recruits now. They wouldn’t even be able to pull the string back. The magical output required to draw your bow, let alone fire it, is immense compared to bows crafted by mortal hands. Yet this one is strange in its own right, but it should be fine for recruits once I’m finished with it,” she lifted the bow in her hands, not even lifting her gaze from it.
Eila stared at the threadwork, her eyes scanning for any openings in the magic lines. Towards the handle of the bow, she spotted the grip, which was covered in what could only be described as gnarled weeds of magic. It would take her forever to craft such a weapon while keeping young trainees in mind, yet the young woman’s eyes softened as a sweet smirk stretched across her face. Eila knew this was a challenge presented to her by a friend that knew her well.
“Give me a week, my lord. I’ll have this bow ready for your recruits by then. That’s a promise.”
“Thank you, it’s a pleasure doing business with you, Eila. Do try not to stay up too late working again. You are like another sister to me,” the prince said.
The prince left a small pouch on the counter as he always did. The door chimes rang as the strongest warrior in the kingdom strode out of the witch’s quaint shop. Despite his departure, Eila never bothered to look up from her work. It was customary for her to do so with all her customers, even the prince. She knew Mako could have done a decent job of fixing the bow himself. Mako had crafted his own katana in the heat of battle, which he had her inspect once he finished resting. It was a perfect weapon, a feat last seen when the gods had fought to bring order to the continent and cast out chaos. She supposed that Mako liked to have a professional follow-up on his creations. It was the mark of true humility in his case. As Eila toiled with the ancient weapon, the witch chuckled to herself as the city bells tolled the passage of yet another hour.
“What a vexing individual he is. What has that young man gotten himself into?”
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