The Crow’s workshop smelled of metal, smoke, and rain.
It was nothing like the perfumed halls of the Valeria manor—raw, alive, filled with the hum of unfinished ideas. Light bled from floating orbs that drifted overhead like lazy stars, casting uneven shadows on shelves cluttered with half-melted crystals and pieces of machinery that seemed to breathe.
“You’re late,” said a voice from the corner.
He was leaning against a table, coat thrown over a chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Candlelight flickered over his sharp features, catching the faintest glint of gold in his eyes.
“I had to make sure no one followed me,” I said, stepping inside. “And I’m not in the habit of sneaking through sewers.”
He smiled, unbothered. “A shame. I find sewers build character.”
“I already have enough character, thank you.”
He laughed softly, motioning me closer. “Show me what you brought, Lady Valeria.”
---
I laid my sketches on the table. Dozens of pages, ink smudged from the carriage ride, filled with diagrams of runes and spiral arrays.
“This,” I said, tapping the drawing, “is a paired crystal. If we align their resonance through identical etchings, they should transmit vibrations—sound, maybe even words—over distance.”
He leaned over, studying the lines. “You want to make two stones talk to each other.”
“Essentially, yes.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You nobles are starved for gossip, aren’t you?”
“It’s not gossip,” I shot back. “It’s communication. Imagine commanders speaking to their troops instantly. Merchants closing deals across provinces. Lovers whispering without letters.”
“Practical,” he admitted. “Revolutionary, even. But magic like this consumes mana faster than fire eats air.”
“Then we find a way to sustain it,” I said. “Mana condensers, amplification circles—something.”
The Crow tilted his head, amused. “You speak like a scholar, not a duchess.”
“I read,” I said simply.
“Dangerous habit,” he murmured, running a gloved finger along the sketch. “Knowledge gets people killed.”
“Then I suppose I’ll die informed.”
He laughed—a rich, genuine sound that made the candle flames tremble. “You are either brilliant or catastrophically reckless.”
“Why not both?”
---
He moved behind me, examining another page. “You’ve drawn the conduits too narrow. Mana flow will jam.”
I turned, catching the faint scent of ash and spice on him. “And how would you fix it?”
He met my eyes, golden and sharp. “By bending the current, not forcing it.” He took a quill and redrew a section, his handwriting a lazy scrawl. “Like this. Think of mana as water—you guide it, not choke it.”
I leaned closer. “That’s… actually logical.”
“I do enjoy being logical on occasion.”
Our hands brushed briefly as he handed the quill back. A spark—not magic, but something heavier—ran up my arm. I pretended not to notice.
YOU ARE READING
Resetting The Villainess
Fantasy[COMPLETE] I died from overwork and woke up as the empire's most spoiled villainess-Lady Seraphina Valeria. In the novel, she was executed for trying to poison the saintly heroine. I have no plans of dying again, thank you very much. My new plan? Av...
