Advanced basics of magic was a course taught at the University of Magics and Technology by one Pierre Pierce. By his own words, his parents had somewhat of a sense of humor and his initials were indeed intentional. He was a laid-back and extremely easy to talk to man. Loving one's work is the best that can happen to a person and Pierce was blessed in that regard. Any question a student could have, he'd be willing to debate for hours.

It all made for pleasant lectures and students willing and even eager to go to consultations. He even had an after-lecture debate club for those with nothing better to do.

And yet, his exam was one of, if not the most feared exams to go through. Not for its difficulty to pass, but because he was such a nice person, who people genuinely did not want to disappoint. Exams generally left him disappointed.

No matter the complexity of a student’s answer and depth of knowledge, Pierce never seemed satisfied. Some people did get close, but it was assumed that getting a perfect score from him was almost impossible. The fact that his questions were short and seemingly simple did not help at all. If anything, it made everything worse as it made a person dig into an ever-expanding circle of topics.

A few people did manage to beat the exam, but they were tight-lipped, only saying that everything to succeed was already said and similar non-answers.

Ixalia was waiting for her turn to get a question. Students were allowed any tools and aid they wanted and got plenty of time to think things through, even among each other. They would all come at a specific time, get their questions, and be left to their own devices in the classroom for as long as they needed. When they were ready, they'd go to his office and present their answers.

As Pierce approached her seat, sweat beaded on the girl’s forehead. Please be good, please be good, she begged of the gods.

The man wore informal clothing that might have even offended some if it was anyone else wearing it. He had white socks in sandals, beige shorts, and a red shirt. His face was cleanly shaven and his hair was close-cropped, any shorter and he could have been considered bald.

“Ok, miss Moore, choose yours,” he presented her with a cloth bag. She reached in and took out a slip of paper.

What is magic? It read. “Oh, good one, that. One of my favorites.” Ixalia’s shoulders slumped as he said it with a smile. He gave her a final nod and went on to distribute questions to the rest of the participants.

He’s going to be so disappointed. But then, every question is his favorite question. Is there even one he dislikes? She had to forcefully crash that train of thought, or else she might work herself into a mild panic. It was inexplicable, but Pierce just had that sort of effect on people, even those that were all too happy with simply passing. They too did their best to measure up to his expectations.

Think outside the box, you’re good with that. What does the question mean, what is he looking for? Anything overly technical or too deep into theory isn’t satisfactory. Try to keep it simple. She thought for a good ten minutes before writing the first word on her piece of paper. All around her, people were furiously scribbling away, flipping through textbooks, or searching on their phones.

After she finished putting her first thought onto the paper, she stood up and went around looking at people’s questions. They mostly ignored her as she went from person to person.

How are mana and magic connected? One asked. Why are there aspects to mana? Another posed. What is mana poisoning? Why is mana poisoning? How do mages manipulate mana? What are spells?

Every single question was of this nature, simple on the surface and infinitely deep on the inside. Never asking anything specific, only broaching broad subjects.

What if? Hmmm, could it be? Could he… really? They do say that we already have the answer to excel on the exam.

It clicked in her mind.

She thought to the very first lecture on Advanced basics of magic. Pierce strode into the room like any student would, even his attire gave the impression that he was one of them. He went around shaking hands and introducing himself. Then he took the podium and asked his first question.

Why are you here? Not in this room, attending my class. Why have you chosen to study whatever it is you study, and why do you study in general, and why did you choose this school? This simple and yet hard-to-pinpoint inquiry ate up the whole time allotment for the subject. He managed to spark a fierce debate among his students into the individual reasons. To this day, Ixalia did not know how he did it.

As the time ran out that day, he brought the conversations to a close and said. "This is what I will expect from you, hence forth. A debate, a drive for answers. Knowledge is of little use without understanding. And you will never attain understanding without asking the right questions, without prodding and poking holes in your theories before forming new ones. I will not want encyclopedic knowledge but an open and sharp mind not afraid to question anything and everything. That is all, class dismissed.”

It was a memorable moment, but it was quite some time ago. Most people would probably forget. Is this what this is about? He doesn’t want us to spout textbooks, but to think about the question? Could it be so simple? There was only one way to find out.

She did look up a fair amount of things up in books and on her phone, just to be sure she got them right, but they were only to put substance to what she’d say. And she meant to say little, just two sentences.

Ixalia wasn't the first to be ready and sat near the door to claim a spot in the outgoing line. She'd go into Pierce's office third. One student was already inside and a second was on a chair next to her. They left the office about half an hour after entering, both got a passing grade but did not live up to the seemingly high standard.

She anxiously approached the daunting door and knocked. “Enter,” sounded from inside and Ixalia depressed the handle. “Miss Moore, please, sit. Can I offer you some tea?” Pierce asked, gesturing towards a kettle.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate some," the girl responded as she tried to swallow in her dry mouth.

“Sugar? Milk?”

“No, thank you.”

A cup of steaming tea was placed in front of her with a small plate of biscuits.

“You may begin when ready.” Pierce nudged as the silence that ensued stretched for just slightly too long.

“Right, sorry.” Ixa sipped a final sip of tea and placed the cup down. “I had ‘What is magic?’ for my question.” She looked at him.

“Go ahead.”

“Pertsong was the first to postulate that magic is the process of converting mana into physical manifestations and actions. He tried to explain the whole process but came up short, only being able to describe the connection between ambient mana and personal mana.

"Later, as biology progressed, people were able to further explain thanks to the discovery of the physical mana core, a pseudo-organ mages possess. It was Winlani to state the 'Four laws of magic'. First one being, Without ambient mana, there’s no magic. Second, To create magic, mana is needed. The two might seem the same but they are not. There is mana all around us, we call it ambient mana, and while it does not fuel spells, it acts as a conduit for them, so without ambient mana, there is no medium for spells to be carried by. Meaning that a mage can have full reserves but still be unable to cast any magic. The second law simply states that during the process some of the magical energy is consumed to fuel the spell, similar to mana pumps.

"The third law says that Magic must adhere to the laws of the natural world. Simply put, the laws of physics still apply. Something cannot be created out of nothing, heat cannot be transferred from a colder spot to a hotter one without carrying out of work and so on.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Ixa paused after that to drink some more tea. Forest fruit, if she wasn’t mistaken, and just right to calm a student’s nerves. Pierce was watching her intently, writing a note here and there as she spoke but did not interrupt, not even as she drank. He simply waited for her to continue.

“The fourth law is still somewhat of a mystery, as Winlani never explained and his notes did not survive his death. It says, From place to place, magic is different. It is true across many possible explanations, but it remains unknown what he truly thought by this statement.

"His fifth law, Magic cannot create matter, was disproven three decades ago. Similarly, some arcanotech and some branches of magic were thought impossible until the discovery of runes and its derivatives. Similarly, manipulation of mana outside the body was not known from the beginning." She went on for a good while more, mentioning some of the experiments and known laws and correlations.

"Given this and many other examples, Tram, Monly, Wershtehn, and various different scholars. They all tried to explain magic and failed in the grand scheme of the goal, only managing to describe and anchor small pieces of the larger puzzle.

"As such, I would hypothesize, that the answer to the question 'What is magic?' is simple. We don’t know. Not truly and not completely. There are theories tying it to dark matter and dark energy, concepts of mundane physics, but it has not been proven. We know that it is, but we do not completely understand it. I would even pose the theory, that the answer could be whatever we want it to be. That if magic can't do something, it is simply because we have not yet figured how to accomplish it. Take the aforementioned creation of matter as an example. It was thought impossible, but people only lacked enough mana, or energy if you put it in terms of physics, and deep enough channels."

Ixalia got worked up a little at the end and a crimson color spread across her cheeks as she came up for air. She tried to take a sip from her cup to hide behind it, but sadly found it empty.

“Is that your answer then? We don’t know and whatever we want it to be?” Pierce, forgive the pun, pierced her with his eyes.

Trying to swallow and failing under the intensity of his gaze, she whispered softly. "Yes."

“That is…” he frowned and stretched the pause. “An excellent one. Superbly reasoned out. Some might argue it is wrong, but that is just healthy debate.”

The girl let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “So, I did it? I pass?” Her shy demeanor elicited a laugh from the man.

"Yes, yes, you pass. You figured it out, congratulations. You can drop a hint for the others, but nothing too obvious, please."

“Wait, it’s a game?”

"Of course, it is, oh, it is meant to teach people to use their heads, of course as well as the subject, but what is life without some fun? Cramming terms, names, and dates is too boring, why not make it all more engaging?" Pierce grinned and did not look his age at all at that moment. A clock in a corner of the room announced the passing of the hour, which made the man frown for real this time. "I am sorry, would you look at the time? While I would love to talk and discuss with you some more, I fear that there are more students waiting for their chance to excel. Do come by again, if you feel like a little chat, but I must ask you to send in the next hopeful." His teeth showed again as he said the last word.

Huh, what a ride. Ixalia thought as she left the room.

***

Only a single exam was left for Ixa to be done with the school year, then it was off to the summer holidays. She did decide to accept the job at Sidy's summer camp. For the rest of the holidays, she might take Head Medico Kert up on his offer. I’ll see how everything goes, there’s no denying it’d look excellent in a CV, though.

She was lazing around for the day. There wasn’t much she could do to prepare for the final exam and she felt like she deserved the rest. Sidy’s family was taking her all the way to the Protectorate tomorrow for an anniversary mass. It was some three hundred years earlier that a rift into heaven opened up in a kingdom of the time, sparking multiple wars over the control of it.

Culminating in a massive World War a century prior, the protracted series of conflicts known as 'Rift Wars' ended in the establishment of the Protectorate. A small theocracy with a duty of ministering to pilgrims and guaranteeing sufficient access to people around the world.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. Ixa was excited to spend some time with her friend, even if in the presence of her overly religious mother. Who could blame her when the woman was one of the few who heard the word of a god. Albeit once and not spoken directly to her.

Such occurrences happened from time to time around the rift, gods talking to each other or themselves, which is why it was so heavily contested.

When the day finally came, Ixalia was full of restless energy and practically bounced with every step she took to the car. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to the mass, as she wasn’t too religious. Just a little, the proof of the divine was there for all to see, after all.

Certainly, some people were saying that the evidence of the gods' presence was proof that they were not gods but simply higher beings capable of incredible magic. But they were definitely humanity's indirect creators, and what is the definition of a god, if not all that?

The car ride took them a few hours and they arrived just in time. They found themselves in a sprawling city with several million inhabitants. It was strewed far and wide into the countryside to house all of them. The reason was simple, buildings were forbidden to be built as high as the main cathedral so as not to elevate themselves above the gods.

On the outskirts, modern, blocky architecture prevailed, but the further a person went into the city, the more ancient the buildings became. At the heart, near the rift, were the oldest buildings, razed many times in the past and renovated throughout history.

The cathedral they were headed for was massive. Several storeys high and extremely large. In a modern city, it would cover several blocks. The architecture and sheer engineering of such a structure was imposing, some even said that it was standing thanks to the magic of the gods and not because of humanity's efforts.

Massive towers jutted from the roof and windows played with every color as light shone through beautiful stained-glass mosaics dating all the way back to the building's origins. Sections of the cathedral saw extensive repairs and some parts even had scaffolding covering them and construction ongoing. Work never stopped in this place.

And, oh gods, the rift itself. It loomed above it all, the grand cathedral reaching barely its middle. It was a massive rift in space. Looking like a giant golden crack radiating soft light all around. And mana wafted out of it in massive quantities, increasing the ambient energies to staggering levels.

Inside the cathedral were multiple tiers for people to sit or stand, everything with a view of the massive altar at the back with giant murals all around. The acoustics were another marvel, as a soft-spoken word from the altar would be carried throughout and could be heard everywhere within the enclosed space.

Pews were rapidly filling up all around and seating was becoming scarce. Ixa and her friend surprisingly found space near the front and to the side but the rest of Sidy’s family had to sit near the back on a higher tier.

Bells began tolling high up in the cathedral’s towers, a beautiful melody created by several dozens of them accompanied by pipe organs. A choir started a soft chant and the audience first fell silent and then slowly joined in on the sung prayers. Ixalia couldn't help but be swept up in the atmosphere of everything and join in with everyone. Sidy soon followed suit.

Everything slowly faded into silence as an archpriest entered through the narthex opposite the altar with an entourage of other priests and altar boys. They approached the stone steps at the end of the main nave and kneeled. The archpriest began a liturgy and took a step higher every time he finished a verse.

Slowly the ritual continued with more prayers and singing, offerings were made to the gods and several confessions were heard in public. The program of the whole event was well put together and flowed smoothly from one thing into the next, nothing stuck out or looked omitted.

Everything culminated in one last joint liturgy by the Priors of the Gods. Every god had one and they rarely met in one place, only for special occasions.

As they sang the final verse, the Rift, seen through a large window above the altar pulsed with light and the world seemed to freeze as every person held their collective breaths. And then the moment passed and the ceremony ended. The clergy evacuated to their allocated areas to recuperate and people began leaving en masse.

Sidysvalda waited for the crowd to disperse a little and then got up to leave as well. When she noticed that Ixa was not following her, she turned around and found her still sitting, staring in front of herself, her mouth working open and closed. Her hands were trying to reach for something once in a while, but every time seemed to think better of it and fell back to her sides.

"Ixa?" she asked, slightly worried for her friend. The whole thing was overwhelming, sure, but this behavior was worrisome. She reached out to shake her shoulder but a hand stopped her.

“Don’t!” her mother shouted in a whisper, holding her daughter in a vice grip. “Let her listen.”

“What are you talking about, and ouch, that hurts.” Sidy complained and extricated her arm.

"She's hearing Asha, look at her eyes," her mother elaborated, voice full of awe. And sure enough, Ixa's emerald eyes seemed to have gained a slight golden hue.

***

When the world seemed to stop and the Rift pulsed, for Ixalia it did not. It shone with an ever-brightening radiance.

"Hello, child." She heard a voice that sounded like all the cathedral's bells ringing at the same time, and yet it was the most pleasant sound Ixa ever heard. She had to look away from the bright light now, but it soon dimmed and when she looked back up, she saw a god.

Asha was in front of her, in all the glory, beautiful and terrible at the same time. Looking like everything and nothing at the same time. Peaceful and angry, friendly and hostile, there and not.

Still, when the God reached out a hand to cup Ixa's face, the girl recognized the hand and arm instantly for what they were.

"I am truly sorry, my child, but know one thing. What is to come, is not of your doing and you carry no blame," the god said, embraced the young woman, and then was gone. That single moment seemed to stretch for ever, and maybe it did. But in that time, Ixalia Moore felt all the love Asha, the Survivor, the last living god, felt for her, felt for all of humanity. And it was endless. But underneath it was a just as deep sadness, for what has come to pass and what is yet to happen.

A single tear rolled down Ixa’s cheek, for even beneath that sadness, buried deep, deep down, the god, Asha, was lonely.