The next morning, Dara was up, ready, and awake. She’d had some cereal, with milk and without sugar, and now it was time to get to work.

I can get this done. She’d been taken by surprise in the park. She’d had to make use of what she had when she’d dealt with the criminals, but now? Now she’d be ready.

“So what’s the plan?” Millie asked.

Dara had one of the crucibles that they’d bought out on the ground and was inscribing symbols into it. “This will be what I use to make my ink,” she said. Dara had hammered the jewelery into a compact mass, sitting on the side. “First, I need to melt it, here, and then I can purify it.”

“But you can’t make any gold,” Millie said. “Why not?”

“I…” Dara paused. “The universe has a sense of resistance about it, and changing one element to another is… impossible. I mean, there are always legends, but they never pan out. There was one case where Malan the Fool supposedly created a new metal, but…”

“But what?”

“It was poison. When his apprentice found him, he had sores, his hair was falling out, and he died soon after. The metal was poisonous and no magic could affect it.” Dara shook her head. “And Malan was powerful. The circles he’d used for that ritual were immense. Nobody else could do it, and given however he’d botched the spell, it only created something deadly, nobody else wanted to. Some of my professors think he’d just refined materials from some rocks he’d taken from a cursed mine, but nobody can know for certain.”

“Okay, so no Midas Touch for you.”

“Nope,” Dara said, inscribing the last of the sigils on the crucible. “Everyone tries it, but these days it’s mostly charlatans fooling the ignorant.” She shook her head. “Right, now I’m ready.” She reached down and started pushing the crushed jewelry into the mouth of the small crucible. Finally, when she was ready, Dara placed the crucible into the center of the circle of bricks she’d created, each one carved with the proper sigils.

“Why not just use the crucible?” Millie asked.

“The crucible’s symbols are to channel the heat and energy of the outer bricks,” Dara said. “That will produce the proper conditions for the ink.”

“Right.” Millie said. “Just pay no mind to me. I’m here for the magic show.”

Dara smiled and raised her hands, murmuring the words of the working. First the outer bricks started to glow, heat rising in the back hard. Millie stepped back. But then a glimmering aura rose around the crucible, and the heat seemed to be sucked into it. The jewelry fragments started to glow, slowly slumping into the crucible.

Dara stayed where she was, her words not slowing, her eyes closed as she continued the ritual.

This was simple. Every student made their own ink, but this was the first time she’d done it alone. The first time she’d done it on another world.

Now the glowing metal in the crucible was bubbling, the bright red surface shivering with each burst bubble. Dara felt the ink trying to form in her mind, and then raised her hands and spoke several sharp, short words.

With that, the crucible shivered and then suddenly, instead of heat, there was cold, vapor forming on the sides of the crucible, quickly turning to frost.

“What the hell?” Millie asked. “Where’d the frost come from?”

“Not from, but too. The ink needs to be empowered, and that’s what the heat is for.” Dara glanced at her. “It’s just that normally there isn’t enough energy in the air to empower it.” She gestured at the crucible. “There are some rituals that require very, very high-quality ink, and that’s normally created in a volcano.”

“Ink. In a volcano.”

“Yes.”

“Remind me to not get into the ink business where you come from.” Millie stared at the crucible, as Dara touched its cold surface. She held it up, then grabbed a screwdriver and punched a hole in the black slag that covered the top of it. Waiting for a moment, Dara then nodded and opened up a small vial, tilting the crucible over and pouring a glimmering silver liquid into it.

“Glowing silver. How long is that going to last you?”

“I can make several foci with it, and it’ll be enough to prepare my staff,” Dara said. “Then I’ll need some more.” She yawned and stretched. “But I’ll have to wait until tonight to work on the staff. For now, I can finish these foci.” She got up and turned to head inside the house. “And then we’ll be ready for anything.”

Millie didn’t say anything as Dara pulled out three pieces of paper she’d cut out from some of the construction paper Millie had around. She started working on the first one, dipping her scriber into the liquid metal that she’d created, the fluid still glowing.

Magic ink. That’d go for a pretty-penny. Dara touched the scriber to the first bit of paper, drawing intricate designs on it. As she continued, the glowing ink grew brighter, as if it was getting more powerful.

Dara didn’t say anything, just continued working. Millie glanced at the clock.

Thirty minutes. Not something you can do in a fight, I guess.

Then Dara paused, nodded, and flipped the scriber over, before she stuck her finger with the sharp in, a bubble of bright red blood welling from the puncture. Dara breathed on it, then pressed her finger down onto the paper. It flared once and then subsided.

“Uh, what was that for?”

“I have to tie the focus to myself,” Dara said. “Self-powered foci are, ah, way beyond what I can do. But that’s why I can only make a few. Each one takes a bit of energy to maintain.”

“So what are you making?”

“Fog,” Dara said. She gestured at the first piece of paper. “It helped us a lot.”

“And the other two?”

“An elemental calling, and a working to shape and move stone.” Dara smirked. “I think those should be enough.”

“Okay,” Millie said, shaking her head. “Just remember, we’re trying to keep quiet.”

“That’s what the fog is for.” Dara shook her head. “Now for the others.”

Millie took the hint and sat back, watching her finish it. When she was finished, she stuck the paper into her pocket. “Right, I have to wait to do the staff.”

“Good, I can get you some culture,” Millie said. “Time to watch a movie.”

“A what?”

“Movie. C’mon in, I’ve got popcorn.”

“I—“ Dara glanced at the outside.

“You said you needed to rest. Do you need to sleep, or can you just sit down?”

“I can…” Dara finally nodded. “Okay. What is this ‘movie?’”

“Well, since it’s something I figure you’d find interesting, it’s about a farm boy who saves the universe.”

Dara looked confused.

“Don’t worry, you’ll understand.” Millie grinned. “It’s pretty self-explanatory.”

Then she got the popcorn and turned the lights down. Millie had seen the movie more times than she could remember, but Dara’s eyes were wide as she watched it.

“Wait, they have ships that fly through space?”

“Why would you live on a desert world?”

“Wait… if his uncle knew his father, why wouldn’t he tell him about it?”

As the movie continued, Dara’s questions dropped off as she got more involved in the movie. At one point, she squeaked. “The entire world?”

Millie just waited until the movie was over, staring over at Dara. “So? What did you think?”

“I—who would imagine destroying an entire world?”

Oops. “Yeah, that’s not something unimaginable for us. What about the magic?”

“I…” Dara shrugged. “It could be like some kinds of magic on my world. Not all mages focus on spells. Some focus on enhancing their own bodies and minds. It’s a difficult path.”

“And the dark lords?”

Dara stared at her. “Now that’s just silly. Why would anyone wear a helmet like that?” She shook her head. “Nope, nothing like that, and I’m ready to modify my staff.”

“How’s that work?”

“Foci like I just made? They’re… you use them once and you either have to recharge them, or if you put too much power into them, make a new one. The staff is more durable, and it grows with the wizard. I know some people who have used the same staff or other primary focus for decades. They also help us use our normal workings by letting us channel the energy more efficiently.”

“So why make the other kind?”

“It’s harder to encode workings into a staff. What I’m going to do is going to take time, but if I wanted to change it? It’d take even more time.”

“Okay,” Millie said. She watched as Dara got up and stretched. “How long?”

“About five hours.” Dara looked at her. “If you want to go to sleep…”

“Oh, hell no.” Millie grinned. “I’m gonna see some more magic.”

Blanking the imprints from the staff took only about thirty minutes, Dara spending the time sitting on a chair, running her fingers over the staff. She’d called her apprentices clothes, as much for familiarity as for need.

I hope I don’t get this wrong… This would be the first time she did something like this by herself.

Completely by herself.

But if they had any more fights, she had to be ready.

Finally, the staff shivered, feeling almost passive in her hands. Dara walked forward and put it in the middle of the circles she’d used earlier that day, standing it upright. A single gesture set the staff in place so that it wouldn’t fall over.

Now… Dara looked down and took a deep breath. She fixed the sigils in her mind and started scribing the first one. The staff started to hum, the circle around it lighting up.

Fire. You shall grant me fire. Dara by herself could do a fairly good fire spell, an artifact of her elemental affinity. But by tying it to a focus within her staff…

The next golem that thinks it can ignore me is going to be surprised.

The staff resisted, but Dara forced it to her will, finishing up the symbols on the metal shaft. They flared for a moment, then seemed to sink into the staff, vanishing into the metal. And then, with a shiver, the staff incorporated the focus into its body. She didn’t look around, didn’t think about how much time was passing, just focusing on her staff.

Now for the next one. Hardened air. A simple spell, one hardly even worth incorporating. Battle mages had other sorceries, but on the other hand, Dara could think of a lot of uses for manipulating the air, uses she couldn’t use without the extra power a focus would give her.

This time, the focus was easier to put in, the staff quickly accepting it, almost as if it had decided to surrender to its owner.

The next two foci were the simplest ones. Aralon’s Tendrils, the same magic she’d used chasing the thief from the library to the temple back home, and the stun bolt.

After all, she might have to fight people here, and she wasn’t about to kill anyone.

The staff was humming, the sound a warning that she couldn’t add any more foci. At least not now. Some of the great mages could have ten or more foci embedded in something like this—but Dara wasn’t a great mage. She ran her finger from the bottom to the top of the staff, a gleaming line of energy following her touch, and then spoke her final words, finalizing the working, sealing her sorcery into the staff.

Moments later, Dara found herself sitting on the ground, panting. The sky was dark, and she felt like she’d run from her dorm to the town square.

“You okay?” Millie asked.

Dara took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” she said. “It just took a little out of me. When you do rituals like this, sometimes time can get away from you.” She looked to the sky, now dark save for the moon and some flying lights.

Airplanes, and no, I am never getting on one of those. Millie’s car is bad enough. She held the staff up to the darkness, staring at the way it gleamed with an inner fire.

“But this is ready. In fact, I’m—“

There was a howl, the sound echoing over the yard. Some dogs started barking from the surrounding houses.

“That didn’t sound like a cat.” Millie looked around. “Dara?”

“I…” Dara closed her eyes and then went stiff. This can’t be!

“Dara, you just went pale. What is it?”

“It feels like an animated object of some kind. A spirit, but where was it and why is it…”

Suddenly, Dara turned around to look at where she’d been working on her staff. She swallowed.

“Oh.”

“Dara, ‘oh’ what? Why did you say ‘oh?’”

Dara turned to look at Millie, a sick feeling settling in her stomach. “It’s coming here. I… did you know that reconfiguring my staff probably made some really obvious magical signs? I just didn’t think anything was around here and I didn’t shield it.” She stared at Millie. “But it doesn’t know where I am. I don’t think it’s the kind of spirit that can really tell where it is, beyond getting to the magical beacon it’s chasing.”

“What does that mean—Kid, what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry! I’ll lead it away and deal with it!”

“Deal with it! You don’t even know what it is, or who sent it!”

Dara didn’t respond. She turned and ran out of the back yard, holding her staff up for a moment while she applied the cantrip to her hair, turning it brown. Another second and her mask was over her face.

Good, nobody will recognize me now. Time to see if this works. She cast the first working, flicking out a golden tentacle to a nearby light post, pulling up and over it.

Thank the gods for our physical education requirement, Dara thought. She swung back down, hitting the ground, and kept running. She could feel the spirit getting closer to her, focusing on the bright beacon of her power.

There were ways to hide that power, but Dara wasn’t certain if she could do it.

And more importantly, that would leave one other beacon out there—the circle she’d used to work with her staff.

Maybe it’s just a minor spirit. I can handle that. Maybe it’s…

Like a bolt of malicious lightning, the spirit dove on her. Dara barely managed to avoid the flaring blob of energy and rolled to the side, ending up laying against a street sign.

State College… I’m only a few blocks away from Millie’s house. This thing is fast.

Dara got to her feet, glaring at it, her staff flaring with energy. It was unhoused, and that made it vulnerable to a weapon like her staff. She could—

With a shriek, the spirit spun away and fled across the street, the glowing form sinking into what looked like an old, battered car. There were people around, using their cameras to film Dara and the spirit. Of course, none of them were running away, like anyone with a brain would do. But at least the spirit was hiding…

Wait a minute. If it wanted to hide, why was it chasing me and why did it—oh, no.

Before Dara could do anything, the car started twisting, metal shrieking as parts of it turned into crude arms and legs. Then it stood up and stared at Dara, before it opened a mouth of jagged metal and plastic and roared at her.

I hate my life.