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He hadn't realized just how magical he usually felt until all of the magic was gone. His trip through time had made a number of things that weren't very clear abundantly so, but the one ability he had missed the most hadn't seen fit to find him there, not until he had appeared in that strange, cold room with everyone else. He had been overwhelmed there, buffeted by his own power and the power of those gathered with him. At the time it had only served to throw what he had lost into sharp relief, but now he missed that strength too. Ashdown might have changed, but he was just as unsure of his place in it as he had been before. There was so much magic in the world and so many people who could wield it far better than he.
Immediately following his return, Chester had gone from jealous, accomplished, and confused to just... confused. His life wasn't all that different now, but Ashdown was, sometimes in the weirdest of ways. Like how had Sam from his discrete math class turned into twins? And why was his favorite Chinese place now a bait and tackle shop? He found himself holed up in his room hiding from the world more and more often these days, thankful that his new roommate was the sort to occupy herself. He had to practice. He had to... do... things. He'd know what those things were when he came across them.
Chester had a lot on his mind, most especially just after he touched anything that had multiple moving parts. Items like that unwound in his head like a rolled up schematic, showing him how he might attach this or affix that and make something more. It got to the point where he didn't start new projects, he just kept adding and adding and adding to the old until he had a true abomination on his hands, a hideous beast made of watches and board games and remote controls. It dominated one corner of his room, whirring and clicking when he least expected it to, and even though it freaked him out, he was still kind of proud.
That was until it spoke.
Along the way he had added so many parts from so many places that he couldn't immediately be sure which of them had started it. Chester was alone in bed when he heard the first disjointed groan, quickly followed by a low cacophony of voices.
"Hi! Cow! Cowabunga!"
He held his breath until he was lightheaded, but as soon as he gave in and sucked fresh air sharply through his nose, the monstrosity started up again.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Shh!"
It might have been following his orders, though Chester was pretty sure it had simply reached the end of a See and Say audio clip. He'd found a battered old specimen at a nearby garage sale and had added it just last week. Forgoing the pretense of sleep, Chester rose from his bed and approached the thing, resting his palm on a broad, flat piece of plastic at chest height—the back bit of a kids driveable Tonka dump truck, to be exact. He ran his magic along every inch of his creation, seeking out the locations of all the computer chips and voice boxes he had added in the month since he'd returned. Then, even though it was three in the morning, he got to work, carefully unscrewing, unwrapping, and unraveling the mess he had made. The monster was dismantled, and when he was done, Chester was left with five equal piles of parts. Five new projects ready to build.
Three of them needed something more. One would be a truly horrific repurposing of the many voice boxes he had scrounged from his first creation. One a shredder, one a toaster of sorts, one a salad spinner... also of sorts. But the last he could start and finish tonight. It was an upright, mechanical biped with long, weighted arms that would skim back and forth on a string. Useless to him, but maybe he could sell it to the people of Ashdown, the newly magically hungry mortals that he had instinctively avoided sharing his condition with. Frankly, he had been surprised that his parents had already been aware of his secret in this reality, doubly so that they hadn't told anyone themselves, but maybe they had felt it too. The desperation. The longing for magic and magical things. To be fair, his parents weren't stupid people, simply overenthusiastic. Being magical was dangerous, and even they wouldn't deliberately open that can of worms just for notoriety.
Chester stayed up all night perfecting his project, fiddling with tiny tools and screws until the sun came up. He wasn't exhausted, to his surprise, and when he finally sat back and took in the whole of his most recent creation, his smile was wider than it had been in years.
The small, metal person was piecemeal, sure, but he doubted anyone would say that made it any less pleasing to look at. It felt delicate in his hands, but he knew better than anyone that it was not, and when he strung it up and set it gliding back and forth along its tightrope, that delicacy only lent it grace.
When he had met with Gloom and the marten had shown him this power, Chester had been skeptical, unsure, even frightened. Now he was almost grateful, eager to share what he could do but wary of courting trouble. Maybe he could start small. Maybe, in this world, he could talk to his parents.
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