His next destination was a small shop nestled between two crumbling buildings, its unmarked door almost invisible to those who didn't know where to look. Ashen Arcana, it was called by those in the know—a shop that dealt exclusively in wands.
Dasha pushed the door open, the small bell above it jangling softly. Thick with the smell of polished wood and old parchment, the walls lined with shelves upon shelves of boxes containing wands. Dasha could feel it with his Qi Sense: each wand was unique and humming with latent power. Behind the counter stood the shop's wand maker, a wiry man with thinning hair and nervous hands. His eyes locked onto Dasha and his old lips twitched into a forced smile.
"Professor," the wand maker greeted, his voice wavering slightly. He wiped his hands on his apron, more out of anxiety than necessity. "Welcome. Is there something I can do for you?"
