“What is magic?” Andreaki inquired.

“Magic keeps our house warm. It’s what lights up our rooms, and it’s what I created my ice with,” I answered, wearing a big smile.

The night before, I spent some time considering what questions my tutor would ask to get a head start, hoping to impress them.

“That is what magic does, not what magic is. So I’ll ask you again. What is magic?” she repeated.

I did not hesitate to open my mouth to answer her question a second time, but when I did, I found I did not have a different answer. For as long as I could remember, that was what magic was: the thing that brought excitement to my world and made everything easier. I never thought of it as anything else.

My lack of response brought a smile to the woman’s face, and my face grew red at the realization I did not know such a simple thing.

“Don’t worry too much about it. Kids twice and sometimes three times your age have given me similar answers. That’s why I’m here—to teach you that very answer,” she said, reading my thoughts.

“I thought you were here to teach me how to use magic,” I countered.

“In due time, hun, but there is an order to these things. Has anyone explained to you what Aura is?” Andreaki continued.

I searched through my memory of the word and shook my head when I came up empty-handed.

“An Aura is what allows us to use magic,” she explained.

“Then what is an Aura? Where is it?” I interrupted.

“Your Aura is the culmination of what makes you, you. A physical yet not physical manifestation of it. What’s the religion of the area—the Orthodox Church, right? You’re familiar with it?” she asked.

I let out a groan as I recalled my experience with the cursed place. Our noble status required us to have some involvement with them, though I never bothered taking in any of their teachings. How could I ever take them seriously when they offered no proof of the existence of their god other than hymns and sermons? There was proof of dragons; Andreaki was such evidence, and the existence of magic drove home the idea. But there was no such evidence for their god. My parents would scorn me whenever I questioned the existence of the deity, and although I kept my thoughts to myself, they could not convince me of the existence of a god.

“So you know what a soul is, correct?” she inquired.

I shook my head. While I heard about the soul during the priest’s sermons, I never looked into it.

Andreaki let out a sigh.

“Technically, the soul and Aura are the same thing; they just exist in different states. Aura is a soul inside the body, and the soul is Aura outside the body. The purpose of them is to work together with your brain to create the phenomenon you know as sentience. Do you understand?”

“No,” I replied, earning me a second sigh.

“That’s fine. You don’t need to understand yet. What you do need to understand is what makes up an Aura. Your strength, agility, vitality—any physical trait really—is what makes up what you are.”

“Even how smart you are?” I asked.

“Yes, but not enough to be a factor of note. Don’t think you can become a master of magic by reading books, hun,” Andreaki shrugged.

“So I can make it bigger by exercising?” I asked.

“Yes, though increases through doing so would be minimal. You’d be better off doing magic to grow it,” she answered.

“Wouldn’t that make me stronger?”

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“Or faster, or more durable, anything really. It’ll even make you live longer if you go about it right. How do you think your parents and grandparents have stayed alive for all these centuries when your serfs die after a few decades?” she confirmed, blowing my image of an old, wrinkly wizard out of the water.

“So where is my Aura?” I inquired.

“It’s inside of you, located around the heart and liver, depending on a couple of factors, but it’s not something physical like an arm or leg,” Andreaki elaborated.

“So I can’t feel it?” I asked, placing my hand over my heart.

“Not through normal means, but depending on how apt you become with your magic, it can become something you can do in the future.

Before I continue, I should backtrack. I mentioned an Aura is constructed from your physical attributes, and increasing one’s Aura will increase one’s physical abilities. While that is true in every sense, it is not the only thing that makes up an Aura. One’s skill with magic also contributes to the size of an Aura. It’s how some people can use massive spells and still be twigs. An elf and a sea serpent may have an Aura of similar size, but the elf can never compete with the monster on a physical level, and the sea serpent won’t be able to use magic like the elf can. It is a far less important factor and can become a problem if mismanaged, so keep that in mind.

Now to the meat of this lesson: what is magic? Magic results from transforming your Aura into a substance known as mana. In most cases, mana is as physical as Aura itself, but unlike Aura, it can become something tangible. But that’s not what I’m getting at.

Once you have mana, it is “burned” when used for magic, which we can then shape to do just about anything you wish. Some spells require more or less mana, but if you can think it, it is possible,” Andreaki explained.

“What happens when I use up all my Aura?”

“You won’t, or rather, you’ll only do so if you take every step possible to do so. Once you’ve transformed a certain amount of your Aura into mana, your body will shut down. It’s why you passed out after your little outburst. As for what will happen if you use it all, worst case, you die; best case, you go brain dead,” Andreaki responded.

“So you can only use magic for so long until you can’t anymore? How long is that? Does it vary? Grandfather is several centuries old, and he’s still using magic. Is it closer to a millennium, or is it so much that it’s not important?” I asked.

The dragonoid looked at me with confusion, as if she didn’t understand a word of what I said. Right as I opened my mouth to repeat myself, Andreaki let out a laugh, one loud enough to make me jump.

"Oh, hun, no. No, no, no, no. Aura is not finite. It will replenish itself over time the same way your stamina does. Once you run it low, all you need to do is eat a little, sleep a couple hours, and you’ll be ready to go again. If you’re desperate, there are potions that can help, but I and many others don't use them since they’re A: addictive, B: give diminishing returns, and C: taste horrible. I suppose an Aura shrinks with age for those who aren’t immortal, but that’s mortality for you,” she chuckled.

“So how do I do the whole mana Aura-transfer thing?” I inquired, moving on to not reveal I did not understand many of the words she used.

“Let me ask you a question instead. Why can you use magic, or rather, your family can, but the plebeians you watch over cannot? Why was The Nest able to remove humans from magic with few cracks in the barrier?”

“I...don’t know. I’ve never thought about it,” I answered after considering her question.

“Of course you haven’t. Few people do,” Andreaki replied. “The reason humans struggle so much with magic is that they are not magically inclined. Now, that is not a unique thing. There are plenty of creatures that aren't. Almost half of them who can use magic lack that inclination. The difference is how they live surrounded by magic.

Being surrounded by magic for their entire life allows it to seep into them and make them magically inclined. Now, what does being magically inclined mean? What few people realize is there is a difference between magic and creating mana. For those who are inclined, the latter is a subconscious action no different from breathing in a way: something we can do consciously but something that happens whether we want it to, just in smaller quantities.

For those who don’t have that inclination, who don’t have that subconscious connection to magic, they can go their entire lives without ever producing an ounce of mana, much less doing anything with it. Once that process becomes subconscious, however, the conscious part, the actual magic and spells, become possible.”

“So how do I use magic, then? I’ve used it before, haven’t I? How do I do it again?” I reiterated, feeling the roundabout way she answered what I had asked grind away at my nerves.

“Do you feel different? Have you noticed any feeling or sensation that you didn’t feel prior to your outburst?” she asked.

“What kind of feeling? It was years ago! How am I supposed to remember what I felt like before then? I could barely walk!” I erupted.

I pulled back when I saw something flare up in Andreaki’s eyes that did not sit well with me. It was intense but short-lived and died off with a sigh.

“Unfortunately, the feeling one has when focusing on their Aura and mana production varies person to person. For me, it feels like a warming kettle. I know others who describe it as a cup of water being filled and then emptied when they cast spells. What it feels like to you is not something I can help you with,” she clarified.

“How do I figure that out?” I questioned, somewhat to myself and somewhat to her.

“Like I said, that is something you will have to find out for yourself. I can do nothing until then.”