As Alma had told him, the Mirror of Record was indeed tucked away behind a stacked bookshelf, by the wall to his left.
Arin bit back the impulse to pick up one of the thick books lined-up there, to take a look at whatever it was that his 'sister' typically read in her darkened room.
Would it be some form of braille, as used in this world? Or did she, perhaps, make an exception for light when it came to her perusal? After all, and as far as he knew, the people here didn't have to always be in environments conducive to the use of their talents.
Either way, he decided such idle curiosity wasn't worth breaking the trust of someone who'd allowed him both, privacy for himself, and the free use of the rare artefact she owned.
In the narrow space, Arin's fingers found some soft, velvety fabric with something hard underneath it, and he carefully pulled the object out to set onto the floor.
With steady hands, he unwrapped layers upon layers of the thick, plush cloth, until finally, an unadorned, three-foot-long rectangle of glass was revealed.
Contrary to his expectation, Alma's Mirror of Record had no ornate frame, nor any mystical inscriptions along the sides or - as he discovered after lifting it from a corner - the back.
For the most part, it looked factory-bare, or like something he'd see in one of those minimalist, warehouse-type homes.
The mirror itself showed things around the room the same way mirrors usually did. Crouching where he was, he could see the bare ceiling of Alma's quarters reflected upon its surface.
He himself was being very careful to not lean forward and see his - or, rather, Rin's - face, though. Even when he'd been removing the cloth that had covered the glass, he'd kept his eyes fixed on his own fingers.
*
'Only meet the eyes of your reflection once you are ready to make use of the mirror,' the white-haired man had directed.
'And, then what?' Arin had asked.
'You'll see.'
...Well, yeah. He would.
'So, what, then. Is this Mirror of Record a tool imbued with magic from someone who possess a - a hindsight talent, or something?' Arin had sighed. 'At least tell me how I'll know to stop using it before the power runs out.'
The tower master had smiled. 'There is such a magic that allows one to view past events. It's a kind of knowledge talent, different from little Siel's. However, that mirror is not an imbued instrument. Its magic will not be exhausted by use.'
Arin had raised his brows, before biting his tongue and holding himself back from asking more questions.
He'd already promised himself he wouldn't!
The tower master, however, seemed to have noticed his distress, and had - miraculously! - taken it upon himself to answer his unasked question.
'Wrought instruments or tools are also created by those with a kind of smithing talent. However, instead of drawing upon a person's own strain of magic, such tools are created by directly crafting naturally occurring powerful materials.'
The man must've seen the question marks floating around Arin's head, because he'd stifled a small laugh before continuing.
'You have heard mention of distorted phenomena, yes?' he'd asked.
'Uh...' Arin had frowned. 'Yes. Yeah. Someone had mentioned it as an... an alternative explanation for what was happening in Silvershade. They seemed to think it more plausible than a distortion.'
'Well, it shares no similarity with the kind of distortion you've faced,' the tower master had said. 'Ah, no. There is one similarity. Both, a distortion - or distorted talent - and a distorted phenomenon, arise in a manner that is abrupt and unexplained.'
'Put simply, a distortion is the inexplicable warping of the magic an individual possesses. But a distorted phenomenon is a sudden appearance of powerful strains of magic - entirely unrelated to talents or souls - that alter an existing environment by changing the very nature of its components.'
Arin had stared at the white-haired man blankly.
'I understand how terribly confusing it must be, to have to learn of such things in a world that is so strange for you. Worse still, that they bear unnecessarily similar names,' the man had sighed understandingly. 'Those who'd coined their names must've been painfully unimaginative.'
And while that wasn't quite what had bothered him, Arin had only nodded his head in response.
Because, again, it wasn't the time for more questions.
Not when he had other, more important things to worry about...