The Colour of Magic

Daton felt like he was in his element – which wasn’t the case at all because in Shadow he’d been a painter, not a scientist – but he’s had a classical education and he knew the principles of the natural sciences.

The lab was set up in a very classical manor. The bench was oak, or whatever passed for it here. The glassware was all polished and new, he’d lit a bunsen… I mean, he was doing an experiment with light, but it was the principle of the thing.

Daton checked at the window, it was high noon, the day was bright under the light of a Red sun. He retreated back to the mark on the floor and made a final adjustment to the mirrors and lenses, reached into his pocket and fingered the sharp triangular prism.

He checked his pocket watch, it was time.

Throwing wide the shutters Daton let the light flood in. Raising his hand he let the form planted in his mind by his patron take shape, the light defining itself as the railwayman’s lantern shining white and glorious.

Daton took out the prism, held it between thumb and forefinger, he rotated it this way and that, observing how the light played off the ground and polished surfaces. Opening the lantern he let the spotlight wash across the far wall, then introduced the prism.

The rainbow of light that shone out with unpredictable results; a lump of metal dropped to the ground, a part of the wallpaper caught fire, a lost penny was suddenly highlighted in indigo.

He turned it a little clockwise, a little more, finally the light fell across the bench, the scarlet light cast the rest of the room in a strange ruby shadows and a crimson glow. Daton held out his hand and pointed it at the carriage clock on the mantle, his mind flashing back to the clockwork horrors that had repeatedly assaulted his grand-daughter, Miss Haversham.

He adjusted the prism again and forced his will into it.

The room was lit by a terrible scarlet flash that left Daton shielding his eyes and blinking away spots.

When the light faded Daton ran a hand through his parted hair, adjusted his suit, cuffs, and smirked at the smoking remains of what had once been his timepiece. He looked down at the ruby light that pulsated below the brown leather of his gloves in time with his heartbeat as he willed his indignation back down.

(re-flavoured post to be about learning ‘Chromatic Strike’ instead of the chalice spell)



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