"Magick," said Jamie Grimmstone, smiling, "is where you find it." He pointed his wand - an enchanted length of ash the thickness of his finger and length of his forearm, and engraved with a simple pattern of the double helix - at the stack of firewood waiting on the dock behind The Incomplete Enchanter, there to be loaded into the shop's kindling box.
A few feet away, Garvin Kinsmith, Jamie's best friend and co-worker at the shop, watched intently, doubt written plainly across his features.