Of the magics we use today from household commodities to war-ending battle spells, there exists a set of unknowns right beneath our noses.

For example, take the relatively common spell Fireball.

For the average mage this spell is as the name implies, a ball of fire to fling at one’s foes however there exists tenants of the spell that all but the most advanced mages know of and that even fewer can control.

These are Meta magics and lost magics.

Meta magic, also known as pure magic is the fundamental way a spell acts according to the mage in question, for example when a master of fire casts the spell he expects a ball of flame followed by an explosion and that is what he will get. Alternatively, if we take a young student inside a village with no connection to any of the common nomenclature we use today, that same student may instead create a massive ball of slow-moving heat and that is all.

This is because to him he has read the spell as a ball of fire and knows nothing else, that is Meta magic.

On the opposite spectrum of Meta magic, we have lost magics, spells of absolutes that are nearly irreplicable and typically one used in conjunction with an artifact of immense power. An example would be the kingdom of Knitrila and how their capital boasts an impregnable shield at all times, this is the result of one mage who has learned a single absolute spell and used the related item.

And when these two meet.

Excerpt from ‘The Lost Age’ by Grand Mage Victoria Ligsworth.

—{}{}{}{}{}—

Xavier.

It’s been two months since coming here and I’m starting to seriously question my surroundings, as barren as they are. Still bedridden by the way, it seems that the only improvement I’ve made since coming here is my knowledge of the language, I can now proudly declare that my abilities are on par with an ignorant tourist. In other words, I can point and shout ‘what’ and hope for the best beyond that.

God, I’m bored.

At the moment my only source of entertainment is the two sisters and sometimes the hunter when he comes to check on my legs and still bleeding guts. Turns out internal bleeding isn’t as fatal as I thought it would be, in fact, it has got to be one of the slowest ways to die in the world. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’ll heal long before it has any permanent effects, I hope anyway. Till then I’m eating lots of iron and getting more sleep than I’ve had in years win win in my book.

A soft creak fills the room and my door is pushed open revealing a pile of ragged brown hair. The younger sister walks in and plants herself at my feet, a small book clutched in her hands. On a somewhat regular basis, the young girl will walk in here and read me a story despite my inability to follow along. In truth, I’m not certain she knows how to read yet, and judging by the stares of the other two the general consensus is to let her do as she wishes. I don’t mind the company.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

From the overly illustrated pictures, I can make guesses about the story. Today's Emmy winner is the tale of a wizard who has to learn to share his magic, or just not kill people with magic. With overly animated movements she mimes out the wizard as he carefully cuts an apple in two rather than eat it alone. She flips the page and the conclusion is at last revealed as our daring hero must make a sandwich for him and some dragon-looking thing.

She closes the book with a literal bow and leaves me in the silence of my empty room, I’m so bored.

—{}{}{}{}{}—

Arvi.

“So what abomination have you brought us this time?”

The clank of steel on steel is the only response for a full minute before the one at work dares to look up.

“ ‘s for the man in your guest room, ya said he’s not taking to the healings right?

So I made ya this.”

The old blacksmith holds out a flower made of steel, the details so fine I can spot miniature due drops on some of the petals. This is Oliver the town smith, he’s also the oldest one here and damn insane, we only keep him for his steel.

“A flower?

You want me to remarry, is that it?”

Oliver tosses his hammer aside.

“No ya meat head look at it and you’ll see what I made for ya.

Not just some iron I hit, it's a real piece a work.”

I oblige him and look, Mana swirls through the petals flowing down into the stem which I now notice ends in a rather Sharply pointed tip, almost like a needle.

“You want me to stab him.”

“Yeah.”

I can only shrug as I walk away, I'll offer the flower and see what he thinks, if he wants to do it, maybe then I can get some help around here. In any other scenario what Oliver just handed me would be the perfect weapon to assassinate a mage regardless of their power. For someone like that man though suffering whatever it is that’s draining him it might just save him from wasting away. Only one way to see for sure and if it does kill him I’ll mourn but that’s all, he’s still a stranger to me.

Emma is walking away from his room one of her books in hand, good he’s awake then, better now than never.

I knock lightly speaking a short nothing so he can tell it’s me and not one of the girls. He's still covered in bandages but only after weeks of salves and stitches were we able to stem all of the bleeding, every time one was closed we would notice yet another and start all over again. It took ages and I’m amazed he’s not dead from blood loss alone but he’s just sitting there like always, I approach the bed with the flower in hand.

My mana flows.

—{}{}{}{}{}—

Anna.

It’s that time of day again! He might be a stranger but I like to think of him as a strange friend and over time I’ve come to enjoy his presence in the house. Even Emma likes him despite neither one understanding the other, it's cute.

I push the door open forgetting to knock and I’m greeted by the sight of my dad plunging a dagger into his chest.

I let out a wail.