Prologue

The wooden handle of the chisel seemed to slide meaninglessly in his hand. Slaving over the pine wood, he meant to carve something, anything to make his ancestors proud that they passed on this extraordinary power that no one seemed to understand. He was like the master with the touch to create anything he wished. But yet, he has never been intrigued by anything to compel him to create the ultimate gift. Every generation left behind something.

A clock that chimed, allowing time travel.

A mirror that granted wishes.

A house that brought riches.

And the list would go on. And what did he have so far? Nothing.

Andrew Gregson wasn't getting any younger. He couldn't possibly pass this extraordinary power without leaving behind something great. So great that sometimes he wondered if its power can turn deadly. Whoever laid a hand on any of his family's heirloom never had good fortune befall. Danger laid in the use of these objects. Yet, it was the danger that brought upon the need to make. To create something good. And useful.

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