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In all things be sure

Standstraw carefully mixed a bit of this with a bit of that. He slowly poured his potion into a small copper bowl. The contents bubbled as the color changed from red hot to icy blue. Wizards don’t stay wizards without being careful he thought to himself. The previous owner of the bowl had burned that phrase into his head. It was his favorite saying. It had been a long time since he had thought of Gracewood. It had been many more years since he had seen him. Straw was old now, and Gracewood had long passed. The smooth copper bowl was a bounding gift at Standstraw’s shimmering. Bounding gifts are a way to pass on the force of an elder wizard to a fledgling. The bowl was forged by Gracewood during his time in the mountains. He cherished that bowl. And just before he passed, he placed some power in the bowl. It had a small, faint inscription near the rim. “In all things be sure” it said. In all things be sure. It was something muttered by both wizards on many occasions. Standstraw cupped the bowl in both hands and swirled the concoction slowly around. In all things be sure, he said. In all things be sure. He took the bowl to his lips and drank purposely deep. The room shimmered and shined and flashed. The bowl glowed for a brief moment before it clanked and rattled to the floor. In all things be sure.

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