"You ever made anything, Luke?" Laura asked. She was wearing similar clothes as their first session, but green and brown.

"How do you mean? I make sound waves all the time. I make food... well, considerably more often than I did before last week. Everyone's made something, in some way."

"Creating. Sculpting, painting, drawing, writing, even programming. Anything creative."

"I was just a factory worker. Maybe as a kid, but nothing impactful enough for me to remember. What does that have to do with anything?"

"The creative process can be a double-edged sword. In the moment, you'll miss imperfections, while thinking everyone will see others you think are obvious. Once you step back and forget your initial thoughts on the work you had while working on it, those imperfections you thought were glaringly obvious will have been forgotten. They become irrelevant, and all you can see if what you actually made. Many times, you'll spot the issues you missed that were obvious to outsiders.

"You will feel bad while making. You will feel worse while showing it to others. You will feel amazed how much better you are than you think you are when people don't even notice your 'obvious' issues. Sometimes, people never forget the feelings of inadequacy they felt during the creation process. Sometimes, they only remember the amazement on the faces of their close ones when they're shown a work.

"The creative process can be great for your confidence, or the worst thing to ever happen to it. In these times, I think that risk is worth it, but many don't agree. They only see their current lack of skill and think they can't do anything creative. A child started unable to even hold a pencil, but was eventually taught to draw stick figures, which they then added faces to. They decide that's not enough and push themselves to become a renowned artist, whether that be in the world or in a community.

"From now until you are ready, we will sculpt. You will be bad at it. That is part of learning. Everyone starts bad. In the time I have, you will not even become great. But you will become good," she monologues before creating two wads of clay.

As Laura also levitated out some sculpting tools, Luke said, "I'm... not really sure how much this will affect my confidence, but sure. You're the expert here. What do I make?"

"Anything you want. Use the tools as you see fit, experiment. See what works and why. If you truly need direction, try making an animal. Do keep in mind, you will be making the same thing every time, so make it something you are willing to make hundreds of. Creating a physical copy of a spellform, while would be impressive, would also require days for each individual sculpture. Your time here is not infinite, get sculpting."

So Luke did. Using his hands initially, he made the clay into a very rough rabbit shape, though the ears had significant inconsistencies in thickness and the rest of the sculpture was just generally bad. A the beginnings of a beginner's first sculpture. He then took something that looked kinda like a plastic knife, though not sharp - he checked - or serrated and tried cutting some of the ears off to make it more equal. The consistency of the clay and incorrect use of the tool made the clay just clump up and make the ears worse.

After getting the ears back up straight, he picked up something that looked kinda like a loop of wire in the end of a handle, which cut the clay much easier, but, annoyingly to him, required taking off small chunks at once to not have the same problem as the knife. The only other things that looked like they might be made for clay removal were all variations of knife-looking things and these loops of wires, so he just accepted his fate and slowly made the ears look at least decently smooth and even.

He used the side of the knife to smooth the surface of the rabbit's body while using its edge to make the border between the sitting rabbit's hind legs and its body more defined, then did the same for its tail. After rounding off its front legs and using the wire to make them less lumpy, he wasn't really sure how to do its eyes and whiskers. Any time he tried making tiny wires of clay, they just fell, and leaving its eyes blank didn't feel that great, though he only had one color of clay, so he figured it would have to do.

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By the end of his time with Laura, he wasn't really happy with the end product, but it was the best he could do. It was obviously a rabbit, but it was asymmetrical, still lumpier than he'd have liked, its face was horrible, and its feet didn't have defined toes.

He brought that all up with Laura and she said, "You are but a beginner. Of course your end result will be worse than those of your desires. But you have already made something that properly displays as the animal you were going for. Your rabbit, while lumpy, asymmetrical, and lacking in detail, is still obviously a rabbit. To focus purely on the issues of your work is natural. Your ability to point out the flaws of your work is already commendable, not all beginners could do so. As you get better over these months, you will come to understand."

She gave him the second lump of clay before continuing, "You may practice at home, but it is not necessary. It would make the end of this lesson more poignant if you do not do so. But many wish to continue interacting with the clay after their initial taste of it. A desire to become better than they initially had, an inability to accept how they are and a drive to become what they could be. While improvement is always good, you must learn to accept how you are if you are to ever improve, and you must learn to be confident in how you are to cast magic.

"Ultimately, the choice is yours on if you practice at home. A week is a long time to not know how much improvement you can make off one lesson. But I still recommend you don't. Introspection is often a better way to improve than doing."

After thinking for a few minutes, silent as Laura didn't shove him out of his office, he sat the second lump back on the table. Laura left her face neutral as he turned to leave.

As he was closing the door, she let herself smile a bit, as a student was grasping her lesson, even if her ability in teaching was much worse than her ability in magic. Something she never let distract her during casting. She was, after all, the best living human mage. Why wouldn't she be able to cast anything she desired?

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At apartment, Luke thought upon the lesson. It wasn't even about magic, at least not directly. He thought back to the rabbit and its flaws. How he could have done better. In the moment, he'd had no experience, except maybe with some play-doh and legos as a kid, though if he'd played with them, he'd made nothing memorable. A beginner's work, as Laura would phrase it.

With his better knowledge and experience, he would be able to make the rough shape faster. He now had the knowledge of the clay's malleability, how much force was needed to properly mold it, how to cut it with the wire to get the most out of the cut without affecting the thinner parts of the clay. Maybe not the optimal amounts, as he's only done one copy of the sculpture, but definitely enough to speed up the process.

Introspecting on this made him think back to the freerunning he did, as well. He hadn't directly thought of it, but the lessons he learned there were also apparent, even if he'd not yet had the chance to see his improvement on either front. He'd learned how to better jump, how to better position his feet upon landing so they slip as little as possible, how to grab surfaces to maximize friction. Again, not optimally, but better than he had been.

Which was the point, he guessed, even if not the desired end result. Self-improvement with the goal of confidence in his abilities. An almost arrogance he'd be able to do anything, such that, when casting magic, he wouldn't get distracted while imagining the full spellform with doubts.

This seemed like a tall order. Kids could do it, sure, but that's because they had no idea they should feel doubtful they'd be able to create clay or levitate some candy out of their mom's bag. Why wouldn't they? Their parent or teacher can, why can't they? And then that spreads, as kids see other kids do magic, they want to also do magic. Monkey see, monkey do, the cycle continues as spellcasting becomes commonplace among the youth.

Those born after the arrival would have no idea the difficulty that those born before have with casting spells. Which was ultimately a good thing; the more spellcasters there are, the better education they will get, the stronger they will get. That doesn't make the struggle of those born before any less, just recontextualizes it. Makes it, not less, but a stepping stone. Something for those coming after to learn from.

Maybe Luke would never be able to cast magic and his plan would fail. Maybe he's just the beginner at it he was with sculpting and freerunning. Someone who was taking the first steps in learning and making awkward failures that are learning opportunities. While he couldn't do it at all yet, all these experiences he was going through were crafted to help him achieve that goal, intentionally or not.

In the end, he needed to cast spells for his plan to work. He was confident that, should he gain the ability to do so this year, he'd be able to accomplish his plan. The knowledge was out there, and googling was something he was very confident in, something he'd done all his life. As his parents and grandparents struggled with the simple task of finding what they want on the internet, a task he found trivial, the future generations would find his struggles with magic laughable.

He was determined to let the future generations have that chance, if not confident in his ability to do so.