“I—” I shake my head, astonished. “I didn’t realize you could do that.”
“Well, truth be told, I typically only see the life lived of beings I have a Calling with. Nonetheless, I was blessed with the opportunity to watch theirs and what these simple items meantto them. You now are going to shape them into something special for Lambrit and Laney, then place some of their parents’ ashes within the creations.”
Understanding dawns on me and punctures my lungs. My hands hover over the trinkets, analyzing everything about them.
“You want me to use my Creation and Obliteration together.”
“Yes.”
I nod as my mind starts racing over things to create.
“Okay.”
As gently as I can, I twist the delicate chain between my thumb and fingers. The piece remaining of the pendant resembles a petal of a flower, but I’m not entirely sure.
These items are perfect already.
Laney loves all things shiny and pretty.
Lambrit appreciates a good pen.
They just need…some love added to them.
I lay the chain and pendant piece in the center of my hand, and suck in a deep breath as I call my Creation forward. A faint glow appears in my palm, and I curl my fingers closed.
My eyes drift shut and a memory I didn’t expect to surface roars forward. It was a long, agonizing day, and like too many nights to recount, I found myself lying in the grass outside, staring at the stars.
Lambrit and Laney snuck up on me, and he gave me an apologetic smile. He said she saw me outside her bedroom window and wanted to come lie with me. I chuckled and patted the grass beside me.
She asked me how the stars were made.
The answer in my mind was fuck if I know.
The answer I gave her was the Valories wanted us to have light to make it through the darkness in case we needed it.
She said she wanted to shine bright like a star.
I told her she was the brightest star in my life.
A watery laugh escapes me as I push my power into the items in my hand. The quiet hum vibrates through my fingers for a few moments.
Once it stops, I uncurl them and smile down at the sparkling gold necklace. The pendant is shaped into a four-point star, and the center is a perfectly round, small globe.
For now, the tiny little glass piece is open.
I lay it down gently, then pick up the pen next.
It’s a standard writing tool. Nothing fancy or decorative.
The God of Scripture’s beautiful, feathered pen comes to mind first, but Lambrit wouldn’t care a thing about something so extravagant.
It needs to be simple but highly functional.
The pen warms beneath my fingers, softening and reshaping at my will. The dull, fragile casing deepens into a smooth, sturdier finish. Something that feels meant to be held and used. I reinforce the core where the ink goes next, strengthening it so it will never crack, never fail him mid-thought.
Beneath my thumb, I imagine an engraving of an open book. He’ll like the way that feels when he’s deep in thought and needs to touch the texture of something.
Behind that engraving, I carefully carve out a hollow. A space that’ll keep them safe and allow them to be with him while he loses himself to his work.
