Oh boy, we’ve got the best job here! Curators here at the Museum of Magic… We get to sort through all the gems and wands and staves and bonework and all sorts. It’s not to everyone’s tastes, but I love it.

My job involves finding. I find the thing a visitor wants to see, and lead them to it with my claws click-clacking in the stone floors. The wand of Garcoff? Over here! The talisman of the Howling Sea? Ooh, that’s back here, brace yourself for the eerie noises.

I love seeing the old things. Old magic. Something things change; we have more of the elves’ machinery in our lives now, more of the dwarves’ medicine, more of the wisdom and history of the selkies and pukas. But some things are unchanging.

For thousands of years, Nature will bless a part of herself onto the chosen few, sharing her magic with them. And a wooden wand of our time looks just like the wooden wands shared with the first mages.

I get a little… lost, thinking about the scale of things.

Admittedly, I’m lucky that I still get the chance. My first day here, I mistook a carved bone artefact for a snack… and that was hundreds of years of history lost. Thankfully it wyas from a box of many like it, but I’m oft reminded of my error.