My grandmother was a wizard, she forged clothing out of thin air using nothing but string and metal thumb-cap, taught to her wordlessly by the ancient ones. When a fabric would tear, she knew all the methods to seamlessly patch it up again.

My father was a wizard, he built enchanted automatons that could carry and go using metal implements, learned from reading ancient texts. When an automaton would break, he knew how to diagnose the problem and jerryrig a solution with existing parts.

I’m a wizard, I cast elaborate spells on cursed devices to funnel digital analogs of ancient texts into knowledge, learned from reading and responding to ethereal texts floating in the daedric plains. When a device gets corrupted, I know how to rescue it with the right enchantments and fortify it against further temptation.

My daughter will be a wizard, she will cast simple but powerful spells on the ever-present aeric cubes that will shape her reality, as learned by being raised by the voiceless ones who contain the sum total of all knowledge.