Rune-carved apology

Arthur worked quickly, his fingers steady as he held another small beastcore between them. The core responded with a single pulse of magic, a controlled whisper of intent. Water coiled from its depths, flowing outward in a controlled arc, shaping itself into a perfect, hovering disc.

It stilled almost instantly, its surface smooth as polished glass, not a single ripple marring its clarity. The reflection was flawless,no distortions, no imperfections, just his own face staring back at him, cyan eyes flickering with faint traces of inner fire.

Arthur turned his head slightly, inspecting the way the light caught against his features, the curve of his jaw, the sharp angles softened only by the breath of movement. A perfect reference. With it, he could craft the glass with absolute precision, ensuring the fangs matched, not just in function but in appearance.