They call me a magician as if only a holy man could do it. But magic is everywhere; people just don’t know how to see it. There’s magic in the trees and the grass. The sun that gives us all life, feeds the plants and they spit out the invisible element that allows us to breathe. My mother, the witch, taught me how to transmute metal at an early age. People call it sorcery, watching the lead undergo the process of turning into silver, and they are right.
I never understood why I was allowed to be so public with my talents and my mother must hide away as if she were some kind of beast to be feared. She’s the kindest, most feeling person I’ve ever known. She taught me about certain herbs that could save people from the very brink of death itself, she showed me the magical lenses that allow us to look at far distant stars as if they were so close I could touch them, and she showed me how to make fire and lightning just by mixing different powders and liquids.