Now that he stood there and observed the things that he had learned during lectures and demonstrations, he was at a loss. Suddenly he was supposed to "figure things out", to conjure this magic and alter the physical realm around him so that he could truly see what he was capable of.

From his studies, it is said that bringing forth things that aren’t there takes a lot more effort than, let’s say, pushing an object. So within the hall, he found an object—an unsuspecting chair—just minding its own business.

Kanrel carried it to the middle of his half of the hall and sat on it. He took a comfortable sitting position and went through many different memories:

During his second year of learning about magical phenomena, there was a demonstration in class with a subsequent lecture about what they had just witnessed. Basically, a priest showed them how to alter the location of an object in the physical world—in other words, how to push a stone or how to lift it with magic.

The priest explained that she first imagined the rock, its dimensions, and its features; for example, a stone is made out of stone, its size is small, it is cold to the touch, and it isn’t that heavy, but it isn’t really that light either. If put under lots of heat, the stone would get hot, and with enough heat, it would melt.

Then the priest would note the location of the stone; of course, this is rather easy as one has to just see the said stone. After this, the priest would imagine what she would want this stone to do: hover a few meters above the floor.

Sounds easy enough, right? Sure, but that isn’t the hard part, for the second part of the lecture was all about "coding" the things that you want to happen based on the information you have about the stone and the laws of physics that keep the stone where it is.

Lifting the chair would not be hard, but if one used too much force, it would break against the ceiling above or go through it. Not to mention that you wouldn’t want to accidentally make it burst into flames. This, and more, can happen with a simple error in "coding", as the priest promptly put it.

Coding, magic, and physics are all based on logic. Coding is like inputting a set of keywords or commands in your own mind in the correct order so that a desired effect might take place. To explain physics, you might need mathematics so that you can more easily understand things like velocity or mass.

Magic, on the other hand, goes against all logic, yet it has a logic; you can’t really use mathematics to make it easier to understand, but it does help. You need all of this and the will to make it happen.

So Kanrel got up from the chair. He already knew what he wanted to do; he knew the dimensions of the chair that he had just sat on; he knew what it was made out of; and he knew the weight of it.

Now he just had to carefully input the correct words to create a code that did the thing he wanted it to do. Kanrel relaxed himself and stared intently at the chair. He wanted to lift it, so he imagined someone lifting it—an invisible pair of floating hands to do the work for him.

He felt an itch go through his body, and then he shivered as the chair jumped an inch from the floor and then fell back down. A wave of disgust went through him, and he vomited on the floor before him.

He breathed rapidly and took a step backward, then his vomit burst into flames.

"That is the usual reaction for a first-timer. Some vomit blood, some faint, and some even die—though that is quite rare." So nonchalant was the mention of death that Kanrel barely registered it as such.

"I assume this doesn’t happen every time?"

"Well, we all get used to it, so I advise you to keep at it; then you’ll puke less than the others during your first practical classes."

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With a long sigh, mostly out of habit, Kanrel looked at the chair intently. This would be a long day of vomit, failure, more vomit, and even more failure.

Hours went by as he tried to lift the chair with the invisible arms that he had imagined, and after almost every try he would vomit, and the times he didn’t vomit, he would feel like shit. He was disgusted with himself and the thing he was doing; this practice of magic felt so unnatural and so vile to him. It felt so wrong, yet he kept at it until he managed to keep the chair in the air for more than just a moment.

For five whole seconds, it was suspended above the floor, which was covered with ash from the times he had had the urge to vomit. Ewen had, in between her own tests, burned the vomit away; it didn’t seem to bother her much.

A few days ago, Kanrel would have thought that she did it out of the kindness of her soul, but that was unlikely, as she most likely did it so that she wouldn’t have to do it later.

After these many hours, he felt spent; he was hungry and needed some rest, maybe a few hours of sleep even. So he thanked the priest for her help, who probably didn’t even notice that he left, and left the Laboratory for the Study of Magical Energy for now.

He navigated his way through the park that was in the middle of the campus and went to the eastern side, where there would be the school cafeteria and a great collection of restaurants, shops, and libraries. Basically, all the things that a student might need in his or her daily life, be it soap, food, or an erotic novel.

This time, Kanrel needed only food.

Only one of the restaurants was free, so of course he visited that one. Even though he had the money to visit any of them at any time, he had thus far never had the urge to visit any of the other ones. And it was highly unlikely that he would ever feel that urge.

Today's food was one of Kanrel's favorites, a meat soup. He got his portion and found an empty chair in the crowded restaurant. He found himself sharing a table with a few others, but that didn’t matter to him.

He took his spoon and gracefully dipped it into the soup, then he ate. As the food touched his mouth, he was expecting that familiar feeling whenever he had had it before. He was waiting for a taste that would bring him warmth and a feeling of joy from eating good food.

He chewed the food and sat in silence. Sure, there was warmth, but that was just because it was soup and it was supposed to be warm; it was just a sensation brought by warm food. But there wasn’t any other feeling. Sure, there was a taste to the food, and he did recognize the things that he had liked about the soup before; they were there still. But he did not enjoy it.

It tasted the same, but his feelings toward it had changed. He could have eaten ash for all he cared, and he would have had the same reaction to it.

It was food, and it didn’t matter; he ate it just because humans need it for sustenance.

It was disappointing. He had hoped that at least this he could enjoy; at least this he could wait for. That at least this he could still have, as this one thing that could make it all worth it.

He looked at the bowl and bitterly went for another spoonful; that too was just ash for him; it was all ash, each spoonful. He ate a bowl of ash. At least it had done its job; he no longer felt hungry, but he did feel regretful.

Through all this, he felt eyes on him, and he knew that the other students at his table observed him and his reactions. Perhaps they were wondering if a priest would be able to enjoy food; perhaps they knew that he wouldn’t enjoy it. Perhaps they knew pity; perhaps not.

Kanrel ate his food and left the cafeteria behind. He entered the large public library, which was on the same floor as most of the restaurants.

He knew this library like the back of his own hands, so he found the section that had most, if not all, of the literature about magic in this specific library. There was nothing better to do for him, so he might as well try to figure out how to conjure magic more fluently and more efficiently.

He was sure that there were many ways he could improve the way he did things and even the way he thought of things.

After a while, Kanrel left the library with six books with him; all of them had different views on how to do magic in practice and even in theory; it would be left to him to decide which suited him better. It might be that none of them would be of any use, as all priests had their own way of seeing and imagining magic.

For Kanrel, it might have been the pair of arms; for another, it might be that the chair grew wings, and that is what made it float. There are endless possibilities for how it all could work, and there is no "correct" way of imagining magic.

So it all would, in the end, come down to information about the physical world and the limitations of magical energy, and then putting all that information about an object and a desired reaction into a code that would bring forth the desired outcome.

Ewen Oidus had suggested that "putting theory into practice" would make things "much clearer for him", but it was now obvious that it had only made him first vomit and then obsess with not vomiting again. Therefore, he had to find a way of doing things that was less disgusting than the one he had used, or just get used to it.

So Kanrel shut himself in his own room and did what he does best: study.