CH945 · Rewrite
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Chapter 945: The New Witch Group, Part II

To put it simply: Azima could locate a whole through one of its parts.

Hold a fragment of anything, and she could trace it back to the source — or forward to the greatest concentration. A drop of fresh water became a creek, a lake, a river bend. A fruit kernel recovered from animal droppings became the tree, its distance, its approximate size. On Sleeping Island this had been survival craft — a way of keeping a moving group fed, watered, oriented. It was also how she’d built her reputation among the Eastern Region witches, why they had gathered around her leadership, why they trusted her.

In Roland’s reckoning, Source Tracing was the finest natural resource survey tool available to him — more capable across most practical scenarios than Sylvie’s Eye of Magic.

The comparison was not a slight to Sylvie. It was a question of physics. When Sylvie pushed her perception underground, her magic expenditure climbed sharply and her effective range compressed. She could mark ore beds in the North Slope Mine area reliably. But veins buried deep — or formations she had no prior reference for — were at the edge of her ability, and what she could detect she could rarely identify. She knew something was there, not what it was.

Azima could identify. More usefully, she could quantify: not just presence but reserve. And if her ability could be combined with Lucia’s purification — the ability to isolate individual elements from complex mixtures — Roland could imagine, without too much optimism, something approaching a full resource atlas of Graycastle. The periodic table, laid over geography.

Even if Azima refused to help, the loss was tolerable. Resources didn’t move. Given enough time and enough effort, the mines would be found through conventional means.

Doris was not tolerable to lose.

His research on magic power had been hobbled from the beginning by bad observation tools. The witches themselves were his primary means of studying the force that underpinned everything he was building — and even they could only describe what they experienced from the inside. Theory moved slowly. Progress was measured in carefully designed joint experiments and cautious inference.

Doris’s enchantment changed the picture.

Wendy’s notebook entry described it as follows: the ability to attach magic power to a dead object to enable self-recycling, dramatically slowing depletion and making the object function as if alive. The notation “dead object” was witch convention — a way of saying that the object had no native magic of its own and would ordinarily exhaust any stored charge from the outside with no compensation.

Roland had reservations about that convention. The joint experiments between Isabella and Agatha on God’s Stones of Retaliation had complicated it. God’s Stones, when observed carefully, showed faint magic residue on their surfaces — residue that no external party had injected. The stones were generating it, or rather: cycling it. Agatha’s working hypothesis was that God’s Stones maintained a continuous equilibrium — bleeding magic, and simultaneously absorbing it from ambient sources, the way a sun-warmed stone releases heat through the night while also absorbing whatever warmth the night provides. The balance wasn’t perfect, but the cycle was real. This would explain why Isabella could restructure a God’s Stone’s nature without destroying its form — she was ending the cycle. After her intervention, the stone was ordinary rock.

Agatha called it death. Roland found the metaphor useful, even if he’d frame the physics differently.

What it meant for his thinking on enchantment: “magic cannot inhabit inert matter” was an approximation. A useful one for most purposes. But not a law.

Setting the theory aside: the practical effect of Doris’s ability was to perform something analogous to the God’s Stone’s self-sustaining cycle on any object she treated. An enchanted object absorbed ambient magic to compensate for the charge it was spending. The compensation wasn’t perfect — losses outpaced gains — but the ratio was startling.

Dawn I, fully charged, ran for five days. When Mystery Moon maintained it with Broken Sword, the runtime extended by ten days — but Mystery Moon’s magic was the engine. Every minute she sustained the current was a minute she spent. Even at peak hypothetical capacity, she could run a handful of Dawn I units at once. That was barely enough for the factories.

A Dawn I enchanted by Doris ran itself. Mystery Moon could be redeployed from maintenance to generation. The electricity supply — stable, extended, no longer requiring constant management — could reach beyond the factory walls. Witches with minor enchantment abilities, previously assigned to low-value tasks because their output was too small to matter independently, gained new utility as parts of a system. Agatha and Isabella gained a supply of test subjects that functioned like God’s Stones — objects with magic cycles they could study without consuming limited natural reserves.

Against all of that, the drawbacks were real but proportionally small. Enchantment took time to apply. Its efficiency was limited. A God’s Stone of Retaliation would disrupt the cycle. These were engineering problems — constraints to work around, not barriers to the ability’s value.

Roland had made his decision before finishing the notebook. The only question was how.

The sugarcoated bullet, he thought. I have found no instrument more reliable.


The last witch in his notes was No. 89, Slimwrist — the name, as it turned out, was exact.

She was a jeweler’s daughter. The craft had started before her awakening: fine tools, small scales, the discipline of working in a medium that punished every tremor. After her Day of Adulthood, what had been practiced dexterity became something more — her hands were faster, more precise, and she could carve patterns into any material she chose. Anything. Not just the soft metals and gemstones of her training, but iron, glass, ceramic, hardwood.

Anna could do similar work with her Blackfire, but Anna was a different order of thing entirely — a Senior Witch with two evolutionary thresholds behind her, the kind of anomaly the Union had measured its wartime losses against. Comparing them was beside the point. The useful question was: what could Slimwrist do that she couldn’t do without?

The answer: she could give Anna’s schedule back to Anna.

Precision work was never finished in Neverwinter. The demand was constant and expanding. There was no ceiling on how many capable precision crafters the city could absorb, and each addition freed the others for the tasks only they could do. On Sleeping Island, Slimwrist had used her gift to polish jewelry for nobles who could afford such things. In Neverwinter, Roland intended to give her something larger to work on.

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