Arryn

The warehouse had been almost completely transformed. The rusted corrugated steel ceiling looked brand new, missing the rusted-through holes that peppered it last night. Dozens of small magelights in glass balls hung from the ceiling on ropes, glowing with warm light. The floor was now polished wooden planks, reflecting the lights from above. The writhing moss that once grew there seemed to have been moved to a set of long planters along the western wall, along with a collection of other potted plants by the windows there. A large circle with a triangle in the center had been painted onto the floor with neat black lines, which gave the place the impression of a school sports hall for some kind of unknown sport.

I’d arrived early, hoping to catch Ron to ask some questions before the other two showed up, but once again he was the last to arrive. There was some awkward small talk with Medea and Wyll about what to expect, but I got the impression they were a bit distrustful of me. Wyll was polite, but a bit overly inquisitive. He asked about how I met Ron, and I left out a lot of the major details and just told him he met me at my workplace. Medea on the other hand was outright glaring at me as I spoke, as if waiting to call me out at any second. I wasn’t sure what that was about.

Ron ambled in at about 10:20, twenty minutes past when we’d arranged to meet.

“You’re late.” Medea said, seemingly reluctantly taking her glare off me to direct it at our new tutor.

Ron simply chuckled, taking off his wide-brimmed hat to bow his head. “Terribly sorry, got caught up in a bit of business in the city.”

I was intrigued. I was very curious to know who this man was, and each nugget of information painted a bigger picture. Before I could innocuously probe for more details, Wyll spoke up.

“Not to worry, ser. What are we learning today?”

He’s an eager one. I couldn’t blame him, because I was dying to get started too, but Wyll was doing his best impression of a model student.

“Ah, yes. Hmm. Yesterday we started going over the triad. I fear in my eagerness I may have bombarded you with a bit too much information, so let’s take it one step at a time. Miss Banyinet, you asked about the limits of this kind of magic, I believe?”

Banyinet? I assume that’s the elf girl’s surname. Not a common one, that’s for sure. I started to wonder if I should get to know my classmates more outside of these sessions, but then I remembered the apparent distrust they have for me and the desire faded quickly as it came.

“You see,” Ron continued, starting to sound more like a professor of magic as he went on. “Magic is limited by three factors: Mind, Mana, and Matter.”

Wyll pulled out a notebook and began to write that down, but the book was yanked out of his hand by an invisible force.

“Oh, my apologies, but please don’t make any physical notes on what we learn here. It would be very bad for all of us if it fell into the wrong hands.” warned Ron, his voice taking on an unusually serious tone. The book floated back towards Wyll, but settled into his leather backpack. Wyll gave him an apologetic look.

“Now, as I was saying… Matter is probably the easiest to explain.” he said, moving to the rack of staves resting against the eastern wall. “You may know this already, but many staves like this one have a lantern hanging on the end of them. This isn’t just a decoration, but a useful source of fire. You see, spells are much more mana-efficient when you’re affecting something that already exists in the world. Not that it’s impossible, mind you, but sometimes the mana cost of doing something like summoning a castle out of thin air is so exorbitant that it is impossible without a huge wealth of crystal, blood, or ether at your disposal.”

Medea frowned. “What about a spell like Magic Dart? That is formed from nothing into a bolt of concentrated and hardened mana.”

“Ah, certainly it is possible, but you could cast a spell just as lethal for a small percentage of the cost if you lobbed a stone or a knife with your magic instead, or formed the dart from fire or air. This will be particularly relevant in regards to the next part of the triad: Mana.”

I swallowed, my mouth starting to feel dry. When it was discovered I was mundane, it was determined that the cause of it was my total inability to process mana into a spell. This could be what I’ve been waiting for.

“Mana is something every novice mage learns about. It comes in three forms, each good for different things. Crystal is stable, and with the right applications can be compacted into more potent forms, but is the slowest releasing by far. Good for artifacts, less good for carrying around as fuel all day.”

“Unless you make wearable mana batteries like jewelry or talismans from it.” added Medea.

“Yes, that’s an option, but still limited in its monetary costs or versatility. Ether on the other hand is much more potent in its gaseous form, but far less reliable. It’s hard to contain, and usually is only used in places where the natural flow of ether, Ley Lines, is particularly focused. That said, trace ether is in the air almost anywhere, so is often used to ‘pad out’ the mana a spell costs.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I’m a bit worried he left blood til last…” Wyll whispered to me. I couldn’t disagree.

“Yes, Ser Darter, there was a reason for that.” said Ron, staring at the triangle on the floor. “Blood is the one mana source always at hand. It is more potent than ether, more stable than crystal. Arguably the best source of the three, were it not also needed to keep you alive.”

“Wait, are you talking about using your own blood as fuel for magic? I’ve heard of blood magic being used in the Scarlet Woods with sacrificial altars and dark rituals, but, er… sorry if that offends, Medea.”

Medea rolled her eyes, but otherwise didn’t seem too offended by my ignorance.

“Yes, that is certainly one way to bypass your mortal limitations, but arguably a bit distasteful, no?” said Ron, the moustache of his beard twitching up in a smile. “But yes, blood is the last line of credit that a spell will draw from without any other sources available. You might have heard of mages getting mana sickness before, but in reality that is just a spot of anemia.”

Ron stopped looking at the diagram on the floor and fixed us all with a serious look. The golden iridescence in his eyes seemed to glow brighter for a moment as the lights hanging from the ceiling seemed to dim, deeping the shadows in the corner of the room.

“The magic we will learn here is far beyond the limits most mages are capable of. It does not do discounts. If you successfully cast a spell requiring a great amount of mana without enough to pay the costs, the blood in your veins will be taken as payment. All of it, in some cases. The so-called “Wild Mages” who sought power without the proper precautions often end up as withered husks, their hubris being their last mistake. Keep this in mind as we proceed.”

A shiver rattled down my spine. The image of some young mage shriveling into a mummified state before crumbling to dust was not a pleasant one. Would I be more susceptible to that fate with my deficiencies with mana? Wyll seemed even more anxious, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Even Medea seemed perturbed, her eyebrows knit tightly together.

“Fortunately,” continued Ron, all traces of the serious mood gone from his features “I have a few little tricks and workarounds for that. In theory, used right, there is no upper limit on the size of spell you can cast with my methods. Just gets quite a bit riskier the bigger you go. Often the smallest spells can have huge effects, where the huge earth-shaking ones leave you a bit disappointed after. Not to mention you’ll never accidentally reduce yourself to dust with a random spell, you’d really need to force that spell to complete.”

Ron moved across the floor to another corner of the triangle, twirling the staff in his hand in lazy circles.

“Last but certainly not least is Mind. This will be the least familiar for you, since as far as conventional magic goes the legwork for this part is managed by tradition and precedent. Simply put, Mind refers to your ability to conceptualise and believe in the reality of a spell you’re going to cast. This is the part most people struggle with, too. Picturing something in sufficient detail to bring it to existence takes a lot of effort, and convincing yourself to believe in what you once thought was impossible can sometimes feel… well, impossible!”

Ron seemed to be really getting into the role now, gesturing wildly with the iron staff as he spoke.

“There is a bit of a workaround, though. Like two magnets snapping together, or lightning finding a lightning rod, a spell wants to work. I don’t subscribe to the dwarven ideas of personifying magic, but it does seem to help you fill in the gaps, sometimes. If I were to do this, for example…”

Suddenly, a dozen white rabbits poofed into existence around the room, hopping about. I was surprised at how quickly I was becoming used to these once impossible feats of magic. Wyll looked delighted, but Medea’s frown deepened.

“Obviously I didn’t have to picture every hair on their fluffy little bodies, or plan and arrange the functions of their internal organs, or tell them when to breathe or beat their hearts. That would be a lot of hassle. For a slight increase in the mana costs, the spell fills in the gaps between your vision of the result to create a more functional effect. The clearer your mental image, the cheaper the spell will be. If your vision isn’t clear enough, or your faith in the spell is insufficient, the spell may not work at all, or may lead to the gaps being filled in unwanted ways.”

The bunnies on the floor all twitched in unison, before morphing into fleshy, tentacled abominations. Their slimy purple flesh twisted and writhed, and along each glistening protrusion were yellowed eyes or tooth-like growths. Each still had an unchanged pair of white bunny ears. The sight was horrific, but with a gesture the “bunnies” poofed back out of existence.

“Not great for petting zoos, as you can see.” Ron laughed, then his face became serious again. “But this can also be a risk for unprepared Free Mages. You don’t want the monster you summon to save the village to start eating the villagers too, you know?”

Wyll looked like he was going to be sick.

“There is another drawback to the spell being overly cooperative at times. If a lack of vision can lead to unexpected results, a lack of conviction can sometimes hit a point at the edge of belief and nonbelief where a portion of the mana is used to fill in the gaps within your own thoughts, too. If you’re close to believing in the effects of a spell but still harbor lingering doubts, the spell also alters your perception of reality to nudge you over that line. Needless to say, that can have some rather difficult long-term complications if you become over-reliant on it. Some have completely lost grasp on their sense of reality this way, which ironically makes their magic much more potent!”

Wyll ran to the exit, and hurled open the doors before bursting outside. A moment later, we could hear him throwing up on the floor.

“Oh dear, that might have still been a bit much for you. A master of magic I may be, but a good teacher I am not. Let’s take a short break.”

I really wanted to hear more, but I reluctantly sat down on the polished wooden floor and tried to get my thoughts in order. In a way I appreciated Wyll for hitting his limit before I did, because I might have been the one out there otherwise. I looked to Medea to ask how she was, but stopped myself as I saw the intense look she was giving the diagram on the floor, obviously lost in her own thoughts.

I could probably guess what she was thinking. If Fyron had been using this magic for as long as it seemed he had, could he also have been mentally impacted by its continued use? If so, what did that mean for us?