Arash stared at the small rune before him. His fingers traced the slender lines dancing around a small wooden stick. He had dreamed of this moment, strived for it, but he didn't feel the joy he had expected. The engraved stick in his hand felt ordinary; nothing like the magic he had dreamed of. Somehow it felt wrong...

"How long are you going to stare at it?" a voice called out to him. Arash looked up.

"I... It doesn't"

"Doesn't feel quite like what you expected?" Arman said with a bemused smile. He walked over to Arash. "May I?"

Arash didn't want to part with the wooden stick. but seeing the outstretched arm he chose to comply.

"Not bad." Arman carefully studied the curves of the light rune. Every single stroke seamlessly connected, forming a complete circle. His brows furrowed at the thin notch between two strokes.

He turned towards the light and squinted his eyes in concentration. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Pity it was a such a beautiful rune, Best I have ever seen. Alas, you chose wood to carve. It introduced a flaw in the design."

"Flaw?" Arash frowned. "Where?"

"Look right there" Arman pointed at the thin slit in the wooden stick. "I missed it at first, but its there if you look in the light."

Arash took hold of the engraved stick, his eyes searching for the flaw. He turned towards the light and finally he saw it, thinner than hair, but there it was, hiding in plain sight. His heart skipped a beat as his hands trembled. Arash stared up at the Rune Master. "It's so thin, it could work. Maybe. We haven't tried it. It might hold be able to hold."

"Child, magic is a delicate thing. Everything crumbles down even if there is the slightest flaw." Arman gently squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"But you always say that the magic comes from the heart." Arash retorted. He had worked so hard. It was so beautiful. So complete...

"It does. But we need a base for the magic. We need a strong base. The runes hold them and the flaw introduces a leak in the magic. It would be a failure even if you try."

"But..." Arash noticed disappointment flash over the old man's face. Even though his heart felt heavy, he still had the sense of when to push or when to stop. He shoved the wooden stick in his pocket and let out a long sigh. "You are right. Magic is a delicate thing. I should have known that wood wasn't a good a material." Arash could see the immediate results of his acquiescence.

"I am glad, you understand" Arman bloomed with a smile, showing a half-moon of tarred teeth. His eyes held a strange glow to them. "Boy you should work on your lies. I have lived for 50 years. I can recognize bullshit when I see one."

"I..." Arash cheeks burned with embarrassment. He searched for words but looking at the way the old man was staring at him. In the end he decided to come clean. "Magic is not a set system. It is not a set of rules. There has to be a way that this would work."

"Why are you so hell-bent on using this rune?"

"I...uh. I just am." Arash struggled with words. He set his jaw with determination as he leveled his gaze against the old man. "There has to be a way. Magic is not an invariable thing."

"That is true and false at the same time..." Arman grinned. "In magic, there is a single elusive truth. It is up to us how we take from it. Our truth is only one facet of the reality. I can say that this rune that you have so crudely stuffed into your pocket is useless. But some might disagree with me."

"Then why are you telling me that it's faulty." Arash frowned in frustration.

"Because you have no truth of your own. Your truths are formed by my words. So unless you find yourself a truth that belongs to yourself. The wooden stick in your pocket will be a failed product." Arman let his words sink in.

"You are a smart boy. You think about things. You question them and you have a thirst for knowledge. For your questions to be answered, you have to listen first. You dive headfirst with your ideas and when you are met with a problem that rattles your brain. You fumble around asking for questions that I have no answers to. I know talking to you is like banging my head against the wall." Arman shook his head in dismay.

"I reckon I would sooner break a wall with my head then talk some sense into you." Arman's hand dug into the pocket of his loose woolen robe and came back with a small sapphire stone. "I believe you know what this is?"

"Magic"

"You could say that. But this also something that would turn you into gleaming crystal and I can assure you it isn't exactly a thing to desire... Are you wearing your gloves?"

Arash produced a pair of gloves from his leather tunic and snuck his fingers into them. He looked up to see the old man glowering at him. "What?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? Wear your fucking gloves. These stones are not a joke. They can turn a heedless man into stone. Its a slow and terrible death."

"But... I can't--"

"No buts. Give me your word. No bullshitting. I don't want the blood of a foolish lad on my conscience. No more lies of yours. I can tolerate anything but not this. If you lie to me, I will find out. You can be sure of it. Swear it!" Arman roared, his chest bellowing under his seething fury.

"I swear on the life of my brother." Arash solemnly nodded.

"On your brother?" Arman screwed his forehead in displeasure. "No games. Swear on the life of your mother."

Arash let out a long sigh as he leveled his gaze at the old man. "I don't want to lie to you." He closed the distance between them and snatched the stone from the old man.