My toes scrunched against the thin strands of grass.
It was ticklish and tangled around my toes, but I didn't mind.
I'm really in my real body... well, kind of.
I was in my inner-world, which, as I'm fortunate enough to have discovered, forces me to take my true form.
On my lap lay the book on botany I'd 'found'.
This was only supposed to be a quick trip to retrieve it, but I'm finding it difficult to leave, not just because it's more comfortable, but because the environment has changed...
There were now these thick, tall black stalks, like bamboo shoots, that had woven themselves into the jagged, short blades of luminescent viridian green grass...
Well, that's the favourable interpretation I'm biased towards, but I can't discount just how... entangled it all looks—hardly woven at all, actually.
The potential implications aren't totally lost on me either...
Thus, I'm firmly coming to the conclusion that it must have something to do with magical affinities, or more precisely, my magical affinities and when I first use them.
Alignments, I think they're called.
I remember thinking before that something like this might happen... not these entanglements, I mean these worldly manifestations of my magic; however, I guess I was wrong in thinking it would be more abstract than just grass, I guess.
Reaching down, I brushed my free hand through the thin blades of green; they held a distinct energy—more than just their brightness indicated; it left a quiet static across my skin.
So... why is it tangled? Will my magic flow better if I untangle it? Or am I just thinking into it too hard?
It's definitely worth trying when I have the time.
Okay, so... Botany.
My eyes turned to the aged book in my hands.
Hopefully, the process is the same.
Upon a whim, the familiar emerald vortex swirled into life atop my hand, the book promptly vanishing from sight.
I grinned; nice and easy, just how I liked it.
Then, without a second thought, I vanished from the spot, or at least my awareness did; however, my form stood still--turned into a perfectly smooth stone free of inflection, as if frozen in time in the instance I had left.
----------------------------------------
I winced, sharply inhaling, and jumped at a sudden thump against my leg.
My eyes shot wide open, but calm returned to me just as fast.
It was the book falling against my lap...
Wait, that doesn't make any sense; why would it just be falling onto my lap now?
No... wait, wait, wait.
My eyes sparkled with a sudden excitement I found hard to restrain.
I mean, either that or the book appeared high up... no that's far more absurd, I'm sure.
Is the flow of time really different in there?
If I had to guess... perhaps... around 5x slower out here? I'd have to do some testing to be sure, but this opens so many possibilities.
I'll give it a few days, and by that point it should be obvious just by looking at that plant I'm growing; perhaps I should collect an assortment of things from here as well, but I should also be careful; many are quite clearly adapted for certain elements, and I don't want to disrupt whatever subtle 'harmony' is going on in there; it might affect my abilities somehow.
Alright, back to the pressing matter... again.
Botany.
Or really anything I can use to ward off danger; there has to be something, because I'd like to use this time to scope out the outpost.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Carefully, I flicked open the bone-dry pages of the thin tome and intently looked over the first page.
----------------------------------------
Plants do not have souls; instead, they have names.
Each and every plant has two names comprised of component words ultimately representing fundamental aspects of the fold; with each aspect itself having two words that represent it.
Counter-intuitively, the two names are not direct translations of each other.
----------------------------------------
What does any of that even mean?
They have names? But why two? And who decided these names?
There has to be more to it than that, but of course I'm not going to get it in any run-of-the-mill book...
Hmm, but if each name represents "aspects," yet both names don't need to be the same, then how do they represent the same plant if each name isn't referring to the same aspects?
It just doesn't make any sense.
Explaining it as one long name in two parts would make much more sense, but they went out of their way to explain it this way... Why?
I couldn't help but feel there was something deeper to this.
I mean, obviously, but the need for knowledge is eating me up; this is only giving me far more questions already.
----------------------------------------
An aspect is manipulated by splicing the two names together, thereby accentuating certain characteristics between them.
...
A spell is cast on a mixture of plants by using the fundamental phrases that comprise all names.
It is recommended to start with short spells, since the stories told therein are natural and sensible to our feeble comprehension, whereas longer spells that contain numerous pivots are far more abstract... such is the domain of the Elves.
Fortunately, I have had the privilege to study under their guidance within the 4th layer; however, as tensions rise, I feel it is necessary to write what I know, so that this knowledge isn't lost to later generations of us Humans in the lower layers.
This book is merely a compendium of common spells and basic theoretical knowledge.
----------------------------------------
So manipulating a plant is different from forming a botanical spell...
It's a shame this is only a compendium, and a common one at that.
But what's all this about layers? The domain of Elves? Then there's mention of Humans again...
So does this mean I'm at one of the lower layers? Or has this book been displaced over time?
What even is a layer?
My common sense isn't coming through on this one, huh... What does that tell me about who I might have been?
More questions I can't answer...
I looked up to the sky and into the blue-violet chromatic flows interspersed through the air. The ambient glow of the forest dulled that ethereal beauty, but the contrast was calming in and of itself.
It's like staring into the endless void of the unknown—its fanciful distortions like apparitions of the mind, yet telling of some seemingly apparent truth that can't be trusted.
Curiosity draws me in, but... why am I afraid of what I might find?
That contrast is safety; the ground and the forest acts as a tether.
I looked away and back down.
Perhaps I should just focus on the book and take it one step at a time.
I should be able to figure some of it out; after all, they're all built with these 'fundamental phrases' or whatnot—there should be patterns I can find.
Gently, I flicked through the pages; there were illustrations of each plant mentioned, all in different styles...
It might have been passed down, with each person adding little details to make things easier for themselves.
I felt quite appreciative of it, especially when I landed on a page still near to the front.
It reads 'Warding Powder' and does exactly as the name implies when mixed with water.
There were a few illustrations of coloured fruits and dull, ringed bark; a few even had red lines crossed through them, and a note specifying that strongly scented fruits shouldn't be used.
The spell was simple; it was apparently a concentrated mixture of a common aspect among these dull fruits: the smell of disease-ridden rotten corpses.
Upon reading that, I was quite reluctant, but luckily, just below it, it reads that heat somehow carries the scent away.
How convenient; though, I guess it was designed that way otherwise nobody would use it.
I looked over at Rena and carefully got to my feet, the fabric beneath my armour dampening the rattling of my movements.
...
It had not taken long, only a few minutes, to collect what I needed; after the first fruit, it was easy to tell which were scentless thanks to my title, and I had easily remembered the gray-barked bushes from before; it only took a larger one to get the right kind.
I cupped the materials in my hand while I sat down on the ground.
Okay, this can't be too hard; I'm just not sure where to direct my mana.
Hmm... According to Rena, she has poor control, so it can't be anything too specific or dextrous; I probably only have to supply it at the right spot.
Hopefully my intuition is right and I can just funnel it into my hands...
At first, I flinched when I saw some lightning materialise on my armour.
Damn, I'm not used to just sending basic mana around my body.
However, for the most part, it was fine, with only a little stray charge around my chest and the rest of the mana reaching my palms.
[Ability gained:
Basic Mana Control lvl1]
HAH! This is exactly what I need!
Feeling a hidden pressure build up against my palms, I gathered myself and recited the words in my head one more time before finally speaking.
"Oliran"
The strange heat or mana field I had seen twice now made itself present to me, lifting the materials from my grasp.
My fingers twitched for a moment; what a strange sensation—like tightly holding an expanding balloon.
"Karàtier envliolinkanoh"
The fluids evaporated into the air, partially obscuring my view of the magic. It didn't seem too special regardless; there were only two separate mixtures of brown and grey powder, respectively.
This is basic?
I couldn't help but complain in my mind; not getting that last word tied around my tongue was especially ludicrous.
Thankfully, that was the entire spell—nice and short.
I had already grabbed two curved pieces of bark to hold the powder, and I pulled them under the magic just in time for the light to fade.
[Ability gained:
Botanical Magic lvl1]
Hehe, I didn't want to jinx it at the time, but here it is:
The real powders of my labour!