For three daysnow,Apple had been hard at work building a forge. The magician turned merchant possessed no experience in the art of forgingat all, all he had to rely on his brief of observations of the task being performed and that arcane intellect of his.


    What he quickly realised was he needed something to allow the melted copper to take the shape of thin wire. After a day of pondering and using a lifetimes knowledge of some book reading, Apple dug a long trench into the forest dirt, the depth and width of aplump garden worm.


    Afterwards he then made a pot container out offire-mud for the purpose of holding the liquid copper.


    It took two days for those two tasks to be completed, with the third day being nothing but gathering fuel for the future fire.It wasnotuntil the night of the third day when everything was ready.


    On top of a mountain of twigs, bark, logs,anddriedleaves rested a large brown pot with a shiny orange object poking out from its brim. Witheverything ready in place, Apple sat down in front of the pile of kindling, placed his hands on the outer layer, and summonedthedwimmerin his stomachto his hands.


    “Cambigin...Cambigin...Cambigin...”Applechantedwith a harsh whisper.


    It took about a minute for the pileof kindlingto smoke and ignite. However, Apple kept his palms on the pile. No ordinary camp fire would melt the copper, he had no choice but to keep pumpingthe element of fireinto the growing flames.


    Long painful minutes past until the entirety of the man-made hill had been consumed byblaze. The waving scarlet weaves sizzled and roared, drowning out the sound of Apple’s mantra.


    “Cambigin...Cambigin...Cambigin...”He still uttered,evenwhilsthis hands began to sting withanunnatural redness.


    It was notuntil nearly two hours had passed until Apple finally stopped chanting. His hands never once moved from their position. Even as they begged to be released from their oblivion, even when Apple began to feel blisters form on his fingertips andthe skinon his palmsbecome dried flakesthat fluttered away in the wind. He only gave his hands peace when it became apparent that the fuel feeding the fire had reached its burning limits. Not wanting to waste even a second for the mud pot to cool down, Apple grabbed it with primitive wooden prongs he made earlier and poured it into hisworm-shaped moulds.


    He walked backwards awkwardly as hespilled the molten liquidintodirt mould. Thegooeymetal was quickly emptied andbegan tohardwith asurprisingspeed.


    With nothing left to do but wait for the copper to completely cool,Apple began treating his wounds.


    **********


    Apple wrapped strips of black cloth around his hands, after hours of submerging them in the cold nearby lake. It took almost all the willpower he had to free his hands from the icy-cold water, for as soon as his fresh burns kissed air Apple would scream. With his hands now covered in fabric,Applelamented on his lack of ability toaidhisblistering handsany more. He was lucky that magicianspossesseda small resistance to the elements otherwise the pain he felt right now would havebeen so much greater he would havepassedoutlong ago. For now,he was only merely panting, with only the occasional tear drops leaving his eyes.


    Applehad littlechoice but to ignore the painthat tormentedhimfor now.Applerose from where he sat andheadedtowards wherethe copperwas cooling andinspectedhis work.


    There were dribblesand splotchesof now solid metal scattered everywhere. The wires weretoo fat in some places and too skinny in others. Most of the wireslookedas if therewere a battalion of air bubble trapped inside. Shoddy, shoddy workbutApple expected as much.


    Deciding it was now too dark to do anything else, Apple went to sleep andtriedto ignore the sound of his own screams.


    When Apple awokein the morning, he instantly noticed the feeling of wet scabscrinkling andtearingapartslightly as he carefully moved his hands. He grimaced sourly and carried on his plans for the dayin a foul mood.


    Hefreedcopper wiresfrom their dirt mouldswith his knife, while chewing on a piece of dried venisonas he did so.


    Afterwards he wrapped the wiresaround the grey iron of his staff’s spine. This was a lot harder than hehadanticipated, due to the sharp painsthat now occurred whenever hishandsmovedthis became one of the most painful things Apple had ever done.


    Once the wireswerewrapped tightly and evenly;the next stage was to attach the crystals. First, however, he needed to grind them into a powder so they could be sprinkled evenly across the spine, instead of just bulbous gems scattered across itlike some kind ofprimitive goblin’sstaff.


    This stage tooktheunfortunateApple all morning. Hours and hours of hitting shards of quartz and amethysts with hisdamagedhatchet, hoping theywouldshatter instead of just fly away into vast flora like they kept doingwhen he struck them.Apple lickedthetearsthatfell into hisgrowingmoustache todistract himself fromhis body’s spasms. At least when he finally made thegemssmall enough, he could proceed with the much easier method of placing them in his mud pot and bash themrepeatedlywith his pummelof his knife. Theentire ordealhurt worse than the questionable banter ofanew step-mother.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Next came coating the now copper-clad iron rod in a thin layer tree sap. Apple used the sap ofavoluptuous looking oaktreefrom nearby.


    After the coating, Apple got to briefly experience whatheimagined itwas like to be aforest fairyand playfully sprinkled the crystal dusk all over the stickyironspine. He concluded his fun by gluing the fist-sized amber to the top of the rod. Once he was positive all the three materials of his catalyst were touching each other harmoniously, Apple celebrated with lunchof more rock-hard dried meat.


    With that done, there was only one final stepto dobefore wrapping it in its skin, unfortunately for Applethistaskonce again involved fire.


    In the time it took for a lowly maggot to transform into a common horse fly, mate, and die,Apple had once again gathered a hefty sum of kindling. He was thankful to whatever god was in charge of fire these days that this partof the processdidnotrequire him to place his hands inthe flamesagain.No, all that was needed this time was a strong but normal flame to soften the metals so they couldfuse together. Tree sap was a great holder of materials, butit would notbe capable of coping with the rigorous staff wielding of a homeless magician.


    Although, Apple was still required to start the fire with magic, unless he wanted to spend hours bashing rocks into each other, hoping for a spark instead.


    “Cambigin...Cambigin...Cambigin...”He mumbled the old word for fire once more. The rudimentary spell worked, but at a cost of searing hot pain that contorted the flesh and skin of his hands. This basic incantation of his hadannihilatedany sort ofhealinghis hands had undergone since they were first burned.


    With nothing to do while the welding process was in play, Apple once again ventured off to the lake to soothe hissizzlingpalms.


    **********


    “Soon. Soon.” Applebuzzed as he washed the smoke covered staff of his.


    It was a new morning and Apple was in a terrific humour now that he was only one step away from completing his first staff. All that was left now was to cover the rod in a protective skin of wood. He knew just the tree. A great and mighty oak tree of about two hundred years of age.Amagiciandid not wantthewood of a treetoo old for the skinwastoo brittle andflaky. Apple was hoping to come across a higher quality wood like mahogany, but decided this sublime oak tree would be just as good, it most certainly had nothing to do hisinabilitytorecognisethe difference between most tree types.


    After washing and drying his precious creation, he fastened it to his back and headed into the forest to find hischosentree.


    After about half an hour of walking Apple found the standing oak and got to work. Deciding he wanted to keep the bark intact for a more naturalruggedappearancefor his staff. He climbed the tree and looked for a branch big enough and strongenough for his staff.


    It didnottakehim long, due to the thicker branchestypicallybeing lower on the tree. He then went through the agonising task of chopping his chosen branch. Forced to grip his axe even tighter than usualbecause of the clothstripswrappedaround his hands,with every minute action causing him tosweat and shudder.


    One final good whack with his iron bladeseparated the branch from its host and crashed to the ground.Apple climbed down after it and continued to chop the wood intothe length his iron rod.


    It would take the grocer the entire day to shape the wood into the magicinsulatingskin he desired.Chipping away splinter by splinter with his knife at the wood’scentre,over and over again. Whenthetip of his knife could no longer reach the slender hole he had dug, Apple stabbed at the hole with various stick scattered across theforestfloors for hours upon hours. Hollowing a piece of wood of around five feet and eight inches was no easy feat, requiring amonotonygreat enough to drive someoneinsanewithboredom. If Apple was not used to days on end of mind-numbingsilence andrepetitivesurvival, he mostdefinitelywould have quit theendeavourlong ago.


    **********


    “I did it! I did it!” He proclaimed to the heavens above. “Me, the hopelessacademynovice has created a magical staff completely by myself!” What Appleboldly declared to the evening sky wasindeedtrue. For nearly a year the empty-handed magician had been attempting to create something that would once again allow him to wield the forces of nature. Blood, sweat, tears, skin,and most importantly time had been spent on this goal of his. The staff was crude looking and made of materials that a common magician wouldnevereven consider when making their own catalyst,yet Apple loved his creation like an uncle lovedtheirrambunctiousnephew.


    The staff was thick, heavy,andonly an inch shorterthan himself, but Apple didn’t care. How many magicians out there could say that they built theirowncatalyst completely fromnothing? Apple wagered none. Maybe a lower creature like a filthy goblinor akobold, although they typically either inheritedtheirs''sor simply stole itfrom someone else.


    With nothing left to do now but use his new toy:“Brinrogwyminumghar. Fliener, fest, teas.”He vibrated, his voice echoing slightly, as if he was repeating himself after each other word in a slightly deeper tone.


    With the incantation complete and his new staff aimed at a tree in front of him a torrent of water, shrouded inawhite smoke, slammed into the tough bark with a wet thud. The geyser continued to spring from the faintly glowing amber fixed atop of the staff foraroundeight seconds.


    Once the spell was over and the mist becamediluted by the wind, Apple appraised his attack. “Damn, only some of the bark hadbeen blasted off. With my old wandI couldexpose the innards of a tree withthewidthof a pig’s head.Aboutinhalf the time too.” He grumbled. Though, heshould not havecomplainedtoo much. Apple was well aware of the inferiority of his staffwhencompared to the modern-day wands. Besides, this wasnotthe limit of his catalyst’s capability, the more one uses and grows accustomed to theirmagicalaid, the better it becomes. He also couldnotjust blame the staff foritscapabilities, the vast majority of a magician’s power comes from oneself. Appledesperatelyneeded to start training again.


    So, for the next week, thatiswhat Apple did. Hours upon hours ofperformingthe few spells he knewover and over again,followed by intense meditation. If a fighter wishedto become stronger, they must abuse their muscles over and over, forcing them to become stronger to protect themselves. If a magician wishedto becomestronger,theymust look insideof theirown bodiesand force thedwimmerthat fuels their power to grow in magnitudeas muscles do.


    Apple also tried to exercise his body as well as his mindbutalas his burned hands made itexcruciatinglydifficult to move his body in many ways.Over timehe wasat least able toaid in thespeed the healing process with magichowever, he was no healer andknew none of their spells. At least he was able to firm up hisbuttockswith an exercise regime almost entirely made up of squatting.