I awoke the next morning to a heavy knock at the door. I let out a groggy groan as I sat up in the bed and called out. “I’m up!” I ran a hand through my hair and was reminded of the mess that was me. I dragged myself out from under the covers and looked out the window. The first slivers of morning light were just beginning to make themselves known, and people were making their way out onto the streets. I undressed as I made my way into the bathroom and started filling up the bath.
Once I was happy with the water level, I placed my hand on the runes to heat it up. Steam slowly began to fill the room, so I pulled back and tested the temperature. It was just shy of a hot tub, so I grabbed a washcloth from one of the shelves and lowered myself in. The water was incredibly relaxing, and I nearly managed to fall back asleep, but pulled myself together enough to get cleaned up and get back out. I dried off and got dressed, and decided to use one of my spare shirts to roughly brush my teeth. It wasn’t my best work, but it beat letting them rot out of my head.
My morning routine finished, I made my way downstairs, and hastily ate breakfast before rushing out the door. Taking on a dangerous job helped to further my motivation to learn how to properly wield magic. Without the mistake of last night’s missed turns, it wasn’t long before I found myself back at the academy. The man from the day before greeted me on my return, and escorted me down a hallway and into an empty classroom before returning to the desk. A few minutes later, my Berrilus entered the room and prepared to start our lesson.
“So, Zach, I think this will be easiest if we begin with you telling me what it is that you’d like to learn about magic. I am in my twenty-third year of study, but I am no educator,” he began. “As such, I struggled to come up with a sound lesson plan.” His comments failed to instill confidence in his efficacy as a teacher, but I could appreciate the fact that he had the ability to recognize his own shortcomings. And at the end of the day, he still had at least twenty three more years of experience with magic than I did.
“Control, first and foremost,” I said. “I figured out that, in order to cast a spell, you have to want it enough, but that won’t do you any good if you can’t concentrate.” Berrilus nodded as I spoke, prompting me to explain further. “The problem is, ever since I figured that out, I’m using magic both when I’m not trying to, and when I specifically don’t want to.” His expression turned pensive for a moment, before asking for further clarification.
“Tell me, what exactly do you experience when you use magic? Most individuals I’ve met rely heavily on incantations and rituals, so it is a rare problem to have, to accidentally cast spells,” he said. I thought back to my breakthrough moment, and the following impalement caused by my distracted excitement. As I recounted the story, Berrilus’ expression grew more and more concerned, and he gradually paled. By the time I was finished explaining, his skin was a few shades lighter, and he looked fairly faint.
“I see… You have good reason to be worried, Zach,” he started. “Casten says that you are not from Astema, so I will do my best to simplify things. When the gods created this world, they imbued it with their power. Everything and everyone on Astema inherits some of their power when they come to be. When we use magic, we offer some of that power back in exchange for a boon from the gods. The greater the boon, the greater the cost for its recipient.” As he continued, I could feel my stomach slowly twisting itself into knots, not liking what was being hinted at.
“It is normal to feel the drain on one’s energy as it is offered up, but what you described is akin to a rusted pipe valve. While under normal circumstances, it would be easy to both open and close the valve – allowing complete control over the flow – yours requires more force for either action. There are several tales of sorcerers sacrificing their souls in order to stand against brimspawn armies when the success of their allies was faltering, throughout history. Essentially, they left their valve open so they could secure victory at the cost of their own lives,” Berrilus explained.
My blood froze, a deep seated dread filling me as I realized exactly what that information implied. Not only was I in danger of killing myself from the result of a spell, I was in danger of dying from the spell itself. I wondered for a while what it would feel like to go to that extreme; if I would even be able to recognize that it was happening. There would be no real way to tell until it was too late, realistically. You don’t know you’re dying until you’re pretty much already there.
“How do I stop that from happening to me,” I asked, a cold seriousness dominating my tone.
“There are several ways to go about it,” he said. “First, find a way to break your concentration. This is easier to achieve in some circumstances than others, of course. For example, there are many distractions in battle which can split your focus, but not if you were bedridden from an illness. Alternatively, you could try to mold your desires into wishes. Instead of an intent for something to happen, condition yourself to believe you are less capable than you are. While quite abstract and likely difficult, that could aid you in seeking other ways to resolve your problems than with magic.” I didn’t very much like the idea of turning myself into a coward, but thinking outside of the box was exactly what I needed, so I patiently bit my tongue as I waited for Berrilus to finish.
“Lastly, you could try to push back.” I paused in confusion, not sure what there would be to push back against in the first place. “The crushing pressure you are feeling when you use magic is from the exertion caused by your soul acting as a conduit for magical energy. Directly resisting that flow is the most effective way to control your magic, but will pose the most problems for you. There is no one way to do so, and is a skill developed over years of practice, with many individuals having different methods. It would be entirely up to you to figure out what that feels like for you,” he concluded.
Even though I had been hoping for an easy way out, Berrilus had offered what sounded like some well founded advice. With how different my situation already seemed to be from a typical Astema resident, I would likely need to cobble together some combination of the three, but I’d done more with less before. As the saying goes, any port will do in a storm, and I was certainly sailing some choppy waters. Out of the blue, I was struck by some stray inspiration.
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“Could my trouble be caused by my attunement,” I asked. Berrilus’ expression morphed from dour to confused as the question left my lips, so I decided to give a little more context. “Deimos said that when he and I attuned with each other, I would need to be careful, as I have access to more of his power. Did he pretty much break my metaphorical valve?” All the context did was change the poor man’s expression once again, this time to one of muted horror.
“That would make you an equal to the demigods,” he stuttered out. As fantastic as that would’ve been to hear, say, back on Earth, it did nothing to assuage my fears given the relevant context. Almighty power isn’t so almighty if the very use of it is a risk to one’s own wellbeing. And based on the sorcerer’s reaction, it wasn’t information I should go around sharing lightly.
“I don’t entirely know what to say to that,” I responded. “Let’s try to keep that a secret for just us, okay?” He nodded emphatically, almost enough to make me feel oddly guilty. “I appreciate your advice, though. I’ll try to incorporate what I can of it. Aside from control, however, I need to understand the limitations of magic. I know it depends on one’s own imagination, but my mind can conjure up some… pretty wild stuff, to say the least. I don’t want to get attacked and try to retaliate with a spell, only to find out that some kind of magic doesn’t exist somehow.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. Could you give me an example,” he asked. I wracked my brain for a bit before something eventually came to mind.
“For instance, when I first got to Astema. My first day, I was chased by a knell through the woods, and later went back with a hunting party to kill it. While fighting against it, one of the hunters had to block a fireball with his shield. If I had to deflect a fireball without a shield, would I be able to generate a localized high pressure system in order to divert its course, or would I find myself on fire?”
“Yes, that would just require the use of elemental magic to manipulate the air between you and the fireball,” he responded.
“Okay. What if I were to try to transmogrify the oxygen fueling the fire into something inert, like argon?” Berrilus simply gave me a look of utter consternation, as if I had just asked him about the secrets to the universe, which by his standards, I may well have done.
“I… Something like that has never even occurred to me. Fascinating,” he muttered. We continued back and forth for some time, discussing a slew of hypothetical spells and magic theory, Berrilus’ enthusiasm steadily building throughout. Theories can only go so far, though, so eventually it came time for actual practice. Excitement and anxiety started to swell in equal measures, the anticipation whittling away at what sanity I still had left.
I started off slowly, the quiet classroom easily fostering concentration, and decided on casting a stream of water out one of the windows. At first, I injected the bare minimum of intent into my spell, just above that of not caring at all. Expectedly, that showed absolutely no result, so I did my best to ramp up both the power and my confidence. Somewhere between “I couldn’t care less” and “I’ll think about it,” water began trickling from my palm, and down to my sleeve. I quickly tried to shake my hand off, which broke my focus and stopped the flow of water.
“Okay, that wasn’t quite what I was hoping for, but it’s a start,” I commented. There wasn’t really any pressure behind the water, making it more of a trickle than a stream, but I had managed to use magic without making myself feel like I was on the brink of death. That was a massive confidence booster, which allowed me to loosen up to the idea of experimentation. While I conjured up some water, I was hoping for more of a jet to shoot out, so I tried again with a more specific idea in mind.
I started out at minimum power, doing my best to pay attention to both the spell and its effects on me. Imagining a jet of water rather than a stream did the trick, and a thin beam of water shot weakly from my palm, before quickly arching down and falling to the ground. Without my sleeve getting soaked, I was able to maintain focus. The spell being as weak as it was, there was nothing to notice, so I slowly pumped more power into it. I continued to feel nothing, right up until the point where the water reached a good six inches before dropping off. It was nearly imperceptible, yet just enough to notice; not quite like being cold, but rather hearing someone convey stories of winter. The feeling was accompanied by the slightest stiffening of my skin, as though I were momentarily sunburnt. My concentration, and subsequently the stream of water, were cut off by a comment from my instructor.
“Incredible. A mortal whose weakest spell can overpower that of his peers by a factor of ten.” He paused for a moment, the weight of what he just said sinking in. “You must remain mindful of the power you choose to wield. Not just for your own sake, but for the sake of those around you. It is easy to get carried away in the heat of the moment, and unleash something you aren’t prepared for. If you fail to exercise prudence, the consequences can be far-reaching,” he said, fear creeping into his tone.
“I’ll make sure to remember that. If this is getting to be too much, we can call it a day. We have been at it for several hours now,” I offered. Berrilus, while appreciative, declined the offer, having been more worried about what could be than what is. We kept on for a few more hours, bouncing ideas off of each other, and trying various different things.
He was much more limited in what he could do, being restricted to just light magic and healing, as he apparently only had the favor of Adina and Grijea. I wasn’t sure what to make of the favor concept. Clearly there was a major disconnect between the knowledge of Astema’s people and how things actually worked, as I was certain I hadn’t done anything to please the gods. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that I was able to cast whatever spell I could think up. I wasn’t sure how wide that gap was, but I wasn’t in any position to fill it. For all I knew, I still could’ve been immersed in some kind of fever dream, although I was long past that line of thinking.
By the time we were finished for the day, it was well into the evening, and both of our stomachs were loudly protesting our lack of a lunch break. We said our goodbyes, and I made my way back to the inn so I could have some dinner. The cooks had smoked some sort of bird to the point of falling off the bone, seasoned with an amazing blend of mystery spices. I got served a piece around the size of a turkey leg, with some sort of stir fried vegetables on the side. Whoever was in the Coveted Moon’s kitchen was a true master of their craft. It was still somewhat shocking how similar the food of Astema was to Earth’s, yet it was always sweeter for some reason.
After dinner, I sat and relaxed for a while, scrolling through some of the pictures on my phone and daydreaming about home. The device drew some curious looks, but none were brave enough to strike up a conversation with the strange foreign man sitting in the corner. Eventually, I tired of the stares and paid Rowein for the day’s meals, adding an extra silver piece for a tip, and retired to my room. Once inside, I did my best to “brush my teeth” again, and washed my clothes in the tub. I hung them up to dry in the wardrobe, and laid in bed, thoroughly satisfied with the day’s progress.