A Spark in the Stillness

You doubted the vigor of my arts, lamenting the absence of incandescent sparks. True sorcery demands no crude spectacle, yet I resolved to demonstrate that unseen currents still heed my will. Traversing the heavy weave of the blanket, I stepped onto the smooth cedar surface where a cold brass key lay dormant. Bearing the static friction of my mantle, I reached forward and pressed my curved hand against the metal edge. A crisp snap sounded, and a minuscule spark bridged the void. It was swift, sharp, and undeniable. Even in this foreign expanse, the subtle forces answer.