As we moved north, I spent all my time talking to Theodmon. It was much different than talking to him in my head. Despite all his history and power, he seemed like a regular man. Perhaps it was because he wore the body of one, after all.

Theodmon did not know how my magic worked, since he had no conception of using it on his own. According to him, there had never been someone who could use magic like me. He assured me that this, in and of itself, was not an unusual thing, but the idea still scared me—since I had no idea of my limitations or weaknesses. But being the only one with my magic also filled me with a strange sense of pride.

But while he could not teach me how to use my magic, he could teach me about it. His voice would become rhythmic and instructional, and at times, it felt as if he was reciting knowledge from a book he had read—and perhaps he was. Theodmon spoke in theories and lessons, just as much as he did from his own experience. I once asked him how many books he had read, and in response, he told me a number I could not fathom.

Theodmon was most curious about my interaction with magic and how I used it, and he would try to get me to explain to him what it felt like in the quiet--because it was something I still did not know. He could read my mind and see what I felt--but he could not come to any different conclusion.

“From what I can conjecture, perhaps your magical ability is that you can move your soul or your mind's energy.” He must have noticed my look of confusion, and he waved his hand dismissively, as if he didn’t want to get into the subject of souls.

He held up a finger to his chin. “Your power, unlike any other I’ve seen, seems to have limitless potential. The complexity between the two realms is unexplored but vast, unlike anything I have seen. In a sense, your power is nothing more than the ability to transfer power in and out of the world at your will.” The realization seemed to dawn on him. For a moment, he looked off into the distance, nodding his head in thought.

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At the time, I did not understand what he meant, since I could not even grasp most of the basic concepts of magic itself. But I knew the quiet world was a strange place, and I was not keen to use my powers again unless I had to. The smell of decayed flesh and the wilted corpses of the men when I had left it was all that I could think about when I thought of my magic. “What is your power?” I already thought I knew--from Calk, but I wanted to hear it from Theodmon.

He smiled at me, and I saw a sudden intensity glow in his eyes. “My power is perhaps stronger than any other being I know of—especially now, but it does have limitations. My power is of the mind. I can hear others thoughts as if they yelled them in my ear. And I can exert my will over others as well, to have them do as I wish.”

“And that’s why the others became so scared of you?”

Theodmon nodded. “An understandable concern, but to be fair to myself—I have never abused my power. But others could not know that.” The idea of Theodmon reading my own mind made me uncomfortable, but I had long since suspected something of the sort. He had been in my own head, after all.

“When one has power, it also influences who the person is and what they seek to do. A fire mage can become hot-headed, quick to temper, and perhaps single-minded towards their tasks. But if one can read the minds of others and see how they think and why they do what they do—well, let’s just say that ability develops a special sort of empathy. I didn’t seek to control others because I didn’t feel the need to.”

He looked at me for a second as if he were considering the entire scope of me. “I’m not sure yet how your power will influence your personality, but most likely it already has.”