Inside my mind palace is a complete replica of my childhood home. After rudimentary testing, it is clear that my internal magic works in the same sense here as it will function outside. The only difference is the cost needed to perform the task. Take pocketing space as an example: I created an entire room of spatial magic in my mind palace while attempting even a fraction of that in the real world isn't feasible.
If I know how to do something correctly, I can test its viability and cost, but my mind will take shortcuts if I don't know. For instance, when I don't focus on engraving the runes, the gem still glows and costs me nothing. I don't have enough data points, but initial testing suggests my magic is ten times stronger in my mind palace.
The effectiveness of this advantage is invaluable in experimenting with all of my ideas, the next of which incorporates a technique in the fifth volume of artificial amalgamations. The entire fifth volume is devoted to understanding material reactions. The insightful bit I am referencing discusses the soluble barriers that dissolve when the rune formation is triggered. These formations will then react with the ambient mana, causing various effects. Yet this volume doesn't discuss those effects, so I experiment to find them.
The risk of this course of action isn’t clarified. I have not had any adverse reaction when runeing in my mind palace. Yet this experimentation aims to find responses that can cause helpful effects when exposed to ambient mana. I can think of a few results that will be helpful: a plume of smoke, a loud noise, or even a bright flash. Yet how can I cause these effects? Can I create a rune formation that heats water mana for steam?
I create the most superficial reaction, a rune formation that will explode when over-saturated with mana, which is the easiest because it has the fewest interactions. Any rune with any function would need the means to absorb and circulate mana: this only requires that. I still need to include something. The rune lacks saturation rate and capacity. The inductor rune draws in mana but isn’t dense enough to do anything. What if I just force the oversaturation?—Boom—
I can’t— the stone covers my vision, but what kind of stone is that? It’s cold concrete, and another voice is drilling into my head, shouting something at me. The shout can’t be authentic because it’s mine, and I'm not. I can remember what was going on, but where I am or even what I am looking at feels— I attempt to open my eyes, and the brightness of the outside dissuades such confidence. The voice invades, corresponding to my fibers, as the wail of air passing over prickles my skin. I attempt to open my eyes again to stare at myself-
—Boom— An explosion tears me apart at the seams and hurls me into the wall of the experimental room. The stone slams into me, but the sensation is wrong, jarring instead of painful. It was almost as harsh as waking to see myself lying in a heap on the other side of the room. I jump up and run to the prone form. I am huddling in a ball, undamaged.
“Am I alright? I mean, are you? Hello? Can I— Can you hear me? Hello?” I stumble at the unconscious imposter, shaking them furiously.
After a few moments, I calm down but continue to prod the figure. A couple of seconds later, they fix their eyes to meet mine. In that second, when our eyes lock, I consider more than I’d later admit: how small I look, how I don’t look nice or kempt, how cold my green eyes are. And then, the huddled figure on the ground evaporates into misty black bits that fizzle away. It takes another moment to understand what happened, but one thing is clear. I am still missing something. I leave the workshop and wander over to my bed. I had started falling asleep in my mind palace, hoping to reduce the time needed to rest, but it had little effect. It is easier to fall asleep in my childhood room, and there aren't any other benefits.
My practical lesson with mage Rainier is my only guidance toward significantly reducing my required sleep. I am hesitant that the Mage is willing to assist me in anything experimental, yet there they stand. They trace the runes with their eyes as if looking for something out of place. I clear my throat to grab their attention.
“Ah, Vesh. Please, come sit.” They instruct, not lifting their eyes from the wall.
“It is good to see you, Rainer. I thought you might change your mind.” I exhale, sitting on the cushion.
“We are here to explore your innate ability to cultivate.”
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“We must all find our way to understanding?”
“As in all things, we must adhere to Creations' wisdom. Advancing anything is blasphemous.”
“Of course, magical scholarship plays many roles in determining that wisdom. You are studying the forces that shape the universe.”
“Yes, that is exactly why we must show the most caution. We are grasping at things far beyond our comprehension.”
“I can agree to that,” I lie, “are we ready to begin?”
“Yes.” They agree, moving away from the wall.
“Were you looking for something?”
“I am looking for nothing and am satisfied with what I have seen.”
“What are you hoping not to find?”
“Nothing that concerns you. We will begin now.”
“Yes, mage.”
“We will test your understanding of the previous technique.”
“Yes, mage,” I affirm, falling into a meditative state.
“I still can’t sense you, like you aren't even here.”
“I have an idea that might help,” I suggest, opening my mouth.
“And what is that?” they question.
“I believe if you place your finger in my mouth, you might be able to bypass my defenses,” I assert.
“Hmm, if you are internal, it makes sense. Are you ready?” Rainer works out for themselves.
“Yes.”
“Alright, here we go.” They stall for a moment before delicately placing their finger in my mouth.
The finger cringes against my tongue as I close my mouth around it. There are a variety of hints to conclude; saltiness is the prevailing theory, which means sweat, yet there is a striking taste that hints nothing. Instead, it smacks of bitterness; it curls my tongue, but I refuse to spit out the finger. After a few seconds, Rainer starts pulling, and I oblige.
“You have successfully entered a state of sufficient detachment,” they mutter, wiping their fingers on their robes. “Now, we will explore this together. Soul magic does not follow the same constraints as other magics, yet it is much more difficult to do and qualify for others. We will try the simplest approach, merely relaxing deeper into meditation. Hopefully, this will deepen our understanding of what our souls are doing in this state.”
“Wouldn’t you have some insights that will shorten the distance between our depth of understanding?” I think aloud.
“Since you have asked, I can share that the soul is a deeply personal thing, which experiences you process shape being. There are analogous scenarios, such as your soul being similar to a water filter, which filters out what you do not believe in.”
“Vague, but I think I am grasping it. Our understanding forms our outlook.”
“Exactly. Yet how does this translate to sleep? That is a practice that should entail multiple magics.”
“It should? Are there so many processes that happen in our sleep?”
“Our entire beings are rejuvenated. We must focus only on the soul, limiting us.”
“Perhaps…”
“Yes, perhaps. It can be that the technique is one of many used to reduce sleep requirements.”
“How can our bodies do it? Such an exertion, especially in someone without proper affinities and training, should be impossible.”
“There is a baseline of magical affinities, which optimize rest or healing. We can heal our injured souls and minds similarly. Animals can do the same, but things fix inefficiently or less effectively without guidance.”
“Guidance is essential, then?”
“In most cases, there are things we can find ourselves, but only with useful tools can we truly discover.”
“And we are imprisoned by understanding.”
“I think I can touch it, a cool stream trickling through my fingers.”
“I can not feel it. I am unsure, even hesitant,” I waver. I feel stupid and lost. I don’t have the capacity for all this, thereby justifying the bigotry. I am failing, and that mentality feeds my failure…”
My soul is not a place, and I am unequipped to handle it. It anchors nothing to the physical embodiment that forms my thoughts or imposes my will with all I am disposed of or empowered towards. No, my soul comprises all I believe and hope to be, a fundamentally intangible miasma, only evident in the shifting of itself or even in its formulation. It is a constant state that is and isn’t or a disembodied betweenness. I am not enough. The door stands ajar before me, but I fear a single step will shatter me. Even a peek is too much of the crisp reality overcoming me. I am still-
“Vesh, it is time to leave,” Rainer interrupts.
“We— just started,” I mumble.
“I believe we both slipped into a trance. I am unsure if this is what we are seeking.”
“Have you been in a trance like that before?”
“I have not, and I do feel rested. You have permission to attempt this.”
“Thank you, Mage. Will we be holding another practical lesson later this week?”
“We will postpone until we find the effects of this. Be cautious by instructing someone to wake you.”
“I will mage.”
A soothe subdues my steps. It is not like a whole night's sleep of wakefulness but more of a feeling after a day spent leisurely. My concerns dim, not by repression or acceptance, but with the frivolity of openness. Let concepts themselves dread my passing, for I will forge my world, or at least I will try.