The artifact had changed him.
Harris could feel it, a humming under his skin, a static charge in his fingertips. The knowledge it gave him hadn't faded, but it hadn't made things easy either.
Runes danced behind his eyes when he closed them, but when he tried to draw them, his hand trembled. The lines wobbled. The power didn't flow.
For the first time since his memories returned, magic didn't come easily.
"Why can't I get this right?" Harris muttered under his breath. He sat cross-legged in the Arcane Garden, chalk in hand, a flat stone slab before him.
Around him, five failed attempts stared back in smudged white lines and burned-out sigils.
He was trying something simple, a basic Rune of Light. According to the memory the artifact unlocked, it was one of the easiest foundational runes. A focus circle, a solar symbol, a power-binding glyph. That was it.
He redrew the lines again, slowly. Carefully. Every line needed to be exact. Every rune needed to connect properly, balance, flow, containment.
He placed his hand over it.
Nothing.
No glow. No hum. Not even a spark.
Harris slumped back, groaning. "Maybe it only works for adult wizards. Or maybe I'm missing some kind of wand focus?"
He shook his head.
No. The memory said intent was just as important as magic flow. The runes are meant to focus your intent. To carry the will into the world.
He stared at the slab again. The lines looked perfect. But something felt off.
Then it hit him.
I'm trying to copy what I saw… but I'm not putting my will into it.
Runes weren't just about shape. They were about meaning. Belief. Power.
Gritting his teeth, Harris took a deep breath. He wiped the slab clean. Picked up the chalk again. This time, as he drew, he focused his thoughts.
Light.
A soft glow. A guide through the dark. Warmth in shadows. A symbol of his new beginning.
He pictured it all as he carved the runes: the solar sigil, the flow runes, the containment lines. Every stroke with purpose. Every symbol charged with feeling.
He placed his palm on the center circle.
"I will light the dark."
The rune pulsed.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the stone glowed, faintly at first, then steadily, like a captured sunrise. A warm, golden orb of light hovered over the rune circle, pulsing gently with his heartbeat.
Harris blinked. His mouth parted in disbelief.
"...It worked."
He laughed, breathless, giddy.
It wasn't much. A faint glow. Weak by wizard standards.
But it was his.
His first rune. His first creation.
His hand still shook with effort. The rune flickered after a few seconds, then died, the chalk lines crumbling away.
But he smiled wide.
"Trial and error," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "But now I know. Runes need more than precision. They need me."
And slowly, piece by piece, he was beginning to understand something important:
He wasn't here to follow someone else's path.
He was here to forge his own.