Words, an equation of ideas meant to communicate the abstract. Hours researching the theorem. Nights spent healing wounds from failure. After months of trials, documenting the most minutiae errors, and hair-pulling anger they found the correct order. Glory came up short, seeing the unformed gems not a unified whole of symmetrical preeminence. The wizard leafs through notes, searching for an answer the spell’s failure. Their stomach growls, a sigh past between their lips.