After some assurances about my intentions, I led Vaozey away from the caravan so that any noise or talking we made wouldn’t keep the rest of the members awake. I instructed her to dig a small fire pit, then walked around and looked for kindling, using a small orb of light to illuminate the ground. As it turned out, there was actually a two-meter-long dry tree limb in a nearby bush with around a three-centimeter diameter at its thickest point. After brushing a few insects off of it, I began breaking it into short pieces and walking back to where Vaozey was finishing the fire pit.
“Just so you know, this may not work,” I informed her. “I had initially planned to suggest we do this in a few days after I had taken time to figure out what techniques might work. I am prepared to use the entire night if we have to, but if that does happen I will be limiting the time we spend in the future so that I can attain adequate rest.” Eighteen pieces, I thought as I tossed them on the ground, plus twigs and leaves.
“Yeah yeah,” Vaozey mumbled. “I don’t expect it to work either, but if you think it's worth a try I'll play along. What kind of magic are you going to try to teach me?”
“The easiest forms of magic I know are light and heat,” I said, igniting a twig with my left hand and making a ball of orange light with my right. “I was initially thinking of attempting light since it uses minimal energy, but no one else I’ve met can use it. Because of that, heat is what we’re going to try.”
“By ‘heat’ you mean ‘fire’, right?” Vaozey asked.
“No,” I replied. “As I found out recently, the way that I create fire is not like the way that people in this country create fire. When I create fire, I simply produce heat in the desired location until the material I am targeting ignites. Koyl, and others, seem to try to trigger ignition directly. I actually am not entirely sure how their methods work, but mine is different.” Yet another question for the endlessly expanding list, I thought.
“Those two things sound like they’re the same to me,” Vaozey remarked. “What god do you pray to to make ‘heat’, exactly? We have Reyvteyl and Yaytgayao for fire, but I don’t think that would work.” Oh right, I thought, I should probably correct that misconception right now.
“I don’t use prayer for magic,” I said. Vaozey raised an eyebrow inquisitively but didn’t comment. “As far as I can tell, prayer only acts as a method to focus the mind. That is why it can be omitted during combat or other quick-casting. You are welcome to pray on your own if it aids your focus, but you won’t be learning any Gwahlaob prayers, not from me.”
“I didn’t expect to,” Vaozey replied. “You aren’t Gwahlaob, after all.” She mentioned that before, but I’ll have to ask how she knows, I thought. “Alright, so what are you ‘visualizing’ to make heat, then?”
“You won’t be visualizing either,” I told her. “You have a condition called aphantasia, which prevents you from visualizing in the way most people do. In virtually all other circumstances this condition does not impede you meaningfully, but it completely blocks your ability to do magic through what I will call ‘specific image casting’. You are unable to slowly create the mental constructs necessary to produce magic in the standard way.”
“So it’s not just that I’m stupid or something,” Vaozey said.
“No,” I replied. “You are just an extreme outlier in terms of natural ability for this specific mental skill. It isn’t something you have control over, nor is it something that can be fixed.”
“So if I actually can’t visualize, and it’s not just that I’ve been doing it wrong, how do you expect to teach me magic?” Vaozey asked.
“What do you think I do when I do this?” I asked back, creating a small ball of light above my hand. “Specifically, what do you think I do in my mind?” For a moment, Vaozey seemed to think about it, knowing it was probably a trick question.
“Imagine a ball of li-” she began.
“Wrong,” I interrupted. “You see, once you can perform a type of magic, if you do it enough it becomes like a limb. You don’t have to think about every muscle you tense when you move an arm or a leg, you simply move the arm or the leg. Magic is the same way.”
“Then, once again, why can’t I do it?” Vaozey asked.
“Because the human mind isn’t born knowing that it can perform magic,” I answered. “In effect, you have limbs that you cannot feel and have never used in your entire life. They are invisible and weigh nothing. However, they are present, and you do have them. What magic requires to function is three things: A location or volume, a desired effect, and an intent to act. Visualization usually produces the desired effect and location components, but in the case of casting quickly, all three components happen as a single thought.” Vaozey furrowed her brow, then inhaled.
“So you want to try to skip right to that part,” she guessed.
“That is the goal, yes,” I replied. “Although, we do have to test a few more things first.” To my surprise, Vaozey laughed lightly, then made a half-smile.
“If you say so,” she chuckled. “I was almost hoping this was a ruse, but I guess I’m lucky again.”
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As it turned out, Vaozey also couldn’t simulate any other sort of sensory information in her mind. While I had expected as much after I learned about her aphantasia, it still meant that teaching her to perform any sort of magic was much more difficult than it needed to be. Even if it was sporadic, it would be better than nothing, I thought, she only needs to figure out the sensation of doing magic once, then I’m sure she’ll be able to shorthand it quickly enough. Vaozey spent an hour quietly trying to light a fire as I looked on, giving small pieces of advice, then finally broke.
“This is seytoydh impossible,” she huffed, tossing a piece of wood out of the fire pit and into the darkness. “Nothing you’ve told me in the last hour makes any sense at all, especially not that last ‘tip’.”
“Humans appear to naturally want to target magic at the point they’re looking at,” I repeated. “To improve your chances, look at the spot on the wood where you want to create the fire.” I picked up another piece of wood from the pile and put it in the fire pit, then gestured for Vaozey to continue.
“I’ve been staring until my eyes are dryer than sand,” she growled. “This is even worse than trying to learn it normally, half of the things you’re describing sound made up. What is an ‘immediate reserve’ supposed to be anyway?” I probably should have kept that one to myself, I considered, looking at my blue bars again, it’s possible my heads-up display doesn’t accurately reflect reality.
“Look at the stick,” I instructed. “Magic is like a limb. You can’t just think about moving your arm, you have to actually move it. Looking at where you’re trying to move it to will help your mind naturally accept the action.”
“I actually know what moving my arm feels like,” Vaozey sighed in exasperation. “I can touch my arm, I can see my arm, I’ve been moving my arm since I was born. According to you, the only magic I’ve been using is to heal myself, if that even is magic, and that happens automatically!”
“Healing is magic,” I said. “Maybe try to injure yourself slightly and examine the sensations? Try new approaches.”
“I have a better idea,” Vaozey scoffed. “Oh great Yaytgayao, please help a pitiful mortal woman light this fire!” she prayed, increasing her volume to the level that I gestured for her to be quiet as soon as she finished. “See,” she muttered, “new approach, same results.” As much as her sarcasm wasn’t helping her situation, I understood the frustration it came from.
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“Can you please take this seriously?” I asked as gently as I could. “Your situation isn’t normal, and because of that this is not a scenario of you being taught directly and failing to learn. This learning process requires both of us to put in effort and suggestions because I cannot remotely control your body and you cannot directly access my knowledge.”
“Ruhmowtliy?” Vaozey asked, fumbling with the English word.
“Nevermind that,” I sighed. Human minds aren’t made to process extra limbs, and they don’t have the same degree of separation between motor instruction and thought as I do, I thought, I can even feel it myself since entering this body, it’s difficult to pin down exactly where my thought translates into movement, and I can only do it because I’ve done it before. How can I communicate this sensation?
“Do you sleep with your eyes open?” Vaozey asked. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”
“I’m trying to think,” I grumbled. “I’m trying to find the words to explain what it’s like to move your ‘magic limb’, working back from the sensation of it.”
“I’m beginning to suspect your description might just be bad,” Vaozey admitted. “Maybe re-phrase it? I keep trying to, I don’t know, flex a finger that isn’t there. If that doesn’t sound right, then I’m not getting it.” That sounds like it would manifest force magic, if anything, I thought, maybe she’s right and the metaphor I used wasn’t the best in this case. Suddenly, I had an idea.
“Have you ever lost a finger?” I asked. “Or a hand, or just a limb in general.”
“I lost two fingers as a child,” Vaozey grimaced. “I was playing with my mother’s knife and I slipped.” She gestured with her ring and pinky finger on her left hand.
“Do you remember the sensation?” I asked.
“The pain?” Vaozey asked back.
“No, the sensation of not having them,” I replied. “Of trying to move something that wasn’t there. Of things passing through where they should have been.”
“I do,” Vaozey recalled. “Actually, there was this one time when I dipped my hand in warm water and I could have sworn they felt warm too. It wasn’t until I looked that I remembered they were gone.” Interesting, I thought, it could have to do with how the regrowth and nerve connection works, but maybe not. However, if she experienced a phantom sensation, maybe I can… my thoughts slipped out of words and into images.
“I have a different idea,” I declared. “Put your index finger on that wood in the fire pit. Close your eyes if you want to, but keep your attention on your finger.”
“Oh so now I shouldn’t look?” Vaozey jabbed.
“Just do it,” I replied, and Vaozey did as I asked, placing her finger on the wood.
“I’m going to heat the wood up gradually,” I said. “Eventually, it’s going to light on fire. I want you to pay attention to exactly how it feels under your finger as I do so.”
“You want to cook my finger?” Vaozey asked, not sounding very enthusiastic.
“It will hurt, but you need to pay attention to it,” I replied.
“I guess it can’t get much more scarred than it is,” she sighed. “Okay, when you’re ready, go for it.” Putting my hand just above her finger, I started to slowly heat up the wood underneath my palm, trying to avoid affecting the finger directly.
“Do you feel it?” I asked. There is fairly heavy scarring, I thought, it might inhibit sensation.
“I feel it,” Vaozey replied. “It’s a bit warm.”
“Okay, I’m going to make it hotter now,” I said, putting more heat into the wood. Once it reached a certain temperature, I saw Vaozey’s jaw tighten, but she said nothing. Over the next five seconds, I finally heated it to the point of ignition. “Pull your finger out now,” I said once I saw flames.
“That wasn’t exactly pleasant,” Vaozey growled, watching her skin bubble and heal.
“We’re going to do it again,” I said, putting out the fire and flipping the stick over.
“Why?” Vaozey asked. “How many times?”
“As many as it takes,” I replied gesturing to the stick. “If I tell you exactly why I’m doing this, I believe it will reduce the chances of success. You’ll have to trust me, or at least just go along with it.”
“And you think this will actually help?” Vaozey asked, her gaze suddenly piercing. “You really believe this will let me use magic?”
“Yes,” I replied, staring right back into her eyes. There was no need to lie. “At the moment, I think this is the best chance we have, based on what I know.”
“Okay,” Vaozey said after a small pause. “Let’s do it.”
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Another hour passed as I repeated the exercise over and over again, taking two-minute breaks in between each time. Vaozey made no complaint, though her mind did appear to wander once she grew used to having her finger burnt. She followed my directions, and grunted when I told her when I would be heating the stick and to what temperature, grunted when I asked her for confirmation that she could feel the heat, but otherwise said nothing. This is good, I thought as I saw her yawn, I think this might actually work, but it won’t if she knows what I’m trying to do.
Taking out the second last piece of wood, I put it into the fire pit and gestured for Vaozey to place her finger on it. As usual, I held my hand just above it so that I could heat it up, but this time I had absolutely no intention to do so and briefly recalled my plan. She can’t imagine the sensation, I thought, but what if she expects it to happen? If she’s not paying full attention, her brain is going to assume that the heat is coming just like it did before. The only problem is the lack of casting intent, but Koyl did say that people can cast magic by accident when under stress, specifically force magic. That means that because their bodies expect to be able to do something they end up doing it. Expectation must be able to play a similar role to intent when casting magic under stress. Whether or not expectation requires stress to function will determine if this works or not.
“I’m heating it up now,” I lied, doing nothing of the sort.
“Mm,” Vaozey grunted, looking off at the stars.
“It should be about as warm as skin now,” I lied. “Do you feel it?”
“Mm,” Vaozey grunted again, in the affirmative.
“Okay, now I’m heating it up again,” I said. “Slowly, over the next few seconds, it should reach the temperature of hot water.”
“Gaa,” Vaozey grunted, a lazy shorthand for the Uwrish word for ‘yes’.
“It should be about as warm as hot water now, do you feel it?” I asked.
“Mm,” Vaozey grunted. Okay, the next one should be warm enough that I can detect it if this is working, I thought.
“Going to boiling water,” I said. “Five, four, three, two, one.” Though I wasn’t quite sure, I thought I felt some heat touching my palm. This might even be working on me a bit, I thought.
“Gaa,” Vaozey grunted. With her left hand, she scratched at the scar line along the back of her head.
“Hot like freshly charred wood now,” I said. “Five, four, three-” I nearly paused as I felt distinct heat touching my palm, but steadied myself. “-two, one.” I finished. “Do you feel it?”
“Mm,” Vaozey grunted, with a slight twinge of pain.
“Last part, going to light it now,” I said. “Five, four, three, two-” Before I could finish, I pulled my hand back, and a small flame grew out of the wood and wrapped itself around Vaozey’s finger. She inhaled sharply, but didn’t move her hand, then finally looked over at me after a second.
“You going to finish or what?” she winced. “This really hurts.”
“You can- uh-” I stuttered, trying to collect myself. Vaozey groaned in annoyance and pulled her finger out of the flames, wiping it on the grass beside her to get the ash off of it. It actually worked, I thought breathlessly, Just a bit of conditioning was all she needed. An hour, maybe a bit more. She didn’t need to visualize or pray, she doesn’t know anything about what she just did. I thought magic needed to be intended, actively constructed whether consciously or otherwise, but what if that's not right? Unconsciously, I put my right hand over my mouth for a moment. Just what have I been doing this whole time? I asked myself, What kind of device, what kind of system could allow for this? How can it possibly function this way? What is magic exactly?
“It’s okay,” Vaozey yawned. “I’m getting tired too. I’m not really sure what that was supposed to do, but if you want to call it a night we can call it a night. I’m about sick of having my finger burned as well. Like you said, take a few days to think of something. I’m not going to give you shit for it, I can tell you really are trying to help me here.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I said. “I’ve already learned exactly what I wanted to learn.” As though my words struck her, Vaozey winced.
“Oh, okay,” she sighed, trying not to sound disappointed. “I didn’t expect it to work.”
“No,” I smiled. “It worked.” For a moment, Vaozey didn’t seem to understand what I had said, then her face morphed into one of concern and suspicion.
“No, it didn’t,” she said, sounding confused. “You just burned my fingerprints off for about an hour and a half or so. I don’t see how that’s a success. What do you mean by ‘worked’?”
“I didn’t make that,” I answered, gesturing to the flame in the pit. “What I did was condition you to expect the feeling of your finger burning in response to certain words. The last time though, I didn’t use any magic. That fire right there was made by you, not me. You used magic, without even knowing you did, because you expected it to happen.” Vaozey stared at me for a moment, then looked down at the fire, before looking back at me. Her breathing sped up as she realized I wasn’t lying, nor was I trying to deceive her. Eyes going wide, she looked back at the fire, her expression a mixture of fear and shock. For a moment, she reached out for it with her left hand, but then she let it drop limply beside her. Mouth half agape, she couldn’t form the words to respond.