Gold

A wizard of both abstract intuitions and the most intricately carved detailed imaginable, he in fact favored neither. When he spoke, he could make you believe you were learning about some subtle difference in the intangible just as we well do with our visible world.

“If I can just get this tiny little nugget from the fire,” he’d say, “then I’d be the richest man alive. See, sometimes when the fire is just hot enough to melt the ore’s surface you get the best shine. But it’s not until it cuts deep to the core that the metal becomes malleable enough to reshape into the precious, invaluable, timeless nugget shape.”

To those in the know enough, he was never talking about what he seemed. That was his way. It kept him safe. Only his sister, 7 years less, knew the wiser about the gold. She knew he himself was the gold, and that he was not only conscious of his shapeshifting ability but of its intrinsic worth. But to speak in open metaphors, as was his way, open to vast and varied interpretation by the few who hadn’t dismissed him to the House of Crazies, this kept his secret wisdom hidden in plain sight. Most thought him nutters, few thought him insightful, only one knew his worth.