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55. First magic lesson
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 10:44:55 +0000 UTC“So, um… weren’t we supposed to start with magic lessons?” Ophelia asked me as she slightly adjusted her crouching position.
“That’s exactly what we’re doing. Technically speaking.”
“Riiiight.” A bit of awkward silence settled in as she finally realized I wasn’t going to elaborate. “So why do I feel like we’re breaking into a house?”
“We aren’t breaking in. I have keys.”
“Then why are we watching it from the bushes?”
“Well…” I trailed off as I watched the movers work inside the house. Thankfully, I didn’t see the family with them, so they probably wouldn’t be moving in today. “We need access to a mana vein in there. We’re going to check our records so you and I know what we’re working with.”
“Records?” she asked.
“It’s like… aspects of yourself. They show what you’re good at and where you’re lacking. You’ll see.”
“Oh. Okay.”
We waited in silence while I observed the workers move a massive couch inside the living room.
“Are there many records about us?”
“You can technically check as many as you want, like your Dexterity is made up from speed, reflexes, and so on. But that much detail is usually not needed. So, there are sixteen main aspects in total, although you’ll only need about half depending on what kind of mage you become.”
Ophelia nodded.
She was about to ask another question when the movers set the couch down, stretched, and started leaving the house.
It was our go time.
Thankfully, the locks were still the same, so we were able to go in. I quickly did the whole ritual, this time for all sixteen possible aspects. Some came out a little off. Others I wasn't sure how to check. I’m not a fortune‑teller, after all.
Due to the haste, I didn’t explain anything to the curious Ophelia watching to the side.
I had just finished with my own previously missing stats when headlights washed across the window, and a car stopped in front of the house.
“Fuck.” I swore.
The family came to check.
“What do we do?” Ophelia whispered.
“The back door.”
I scooped up the ritual tools and our voodoo dolls. I wanted to clean the whole circle properly, but I heard the downstairs lock click. Instead, I just quickly smeared it so the pentagram was no longer visible.
We ended up hopping from a rear balcony and making a run for it. Thankfully, the family seemed more interested in whether the couch had been banged up than in checking the upper floor.
“Well, that’s your first lesson,” I said, grinning, once we’d put some distance between us and the house.
“Always barricade the doors after breaking into a house?” Ophelia asked in a flat tone.
“No. I mean, that too. But most of all, always plan for the worst-case scenario.” I tried for a sagely voice.
“Mhmm.”
“We’ll start your lessons tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
***
The next day, after some rest, we were both in my family’s storage unit. I’d come earlier to hide a few statues and idols of abyssal gods. She was nowhere near ready for those lessons.
Instead, I dragged the massive desk to the middle of the room and pulled up another chair. We were now standing beside it with two pieces of paper listing all sixteen attributes laid out in front of us.
Ophelia’s sheet showed:
Race: -
Magic Circle: 0
Stats:
Body
Strength: 14
Dexterity: 18
Endurance: 15
Constitution: 19
Mind
Intelligence: 17
Wisdom: 14
Willpower: 19
Mental Defense: 18
Spirit
Soul: 11
Instinct: 0
Faith: 2
Manifestation: ?
Social
Empathy: 14
Charisma: 13
Pressure: 8
Passion: 16
Skills: –
Secrets: –
Mysteries: –
Those looked good. Very good. Whatever bloodline awakened in her must be tied to something powerful. The Constitution was interesting. She seemed to be a hybrid, melee with spells. I’d worried that might be the case. I’d have to find her a martial arts instructor.
“Are those good?” Ophelia asked.
“Yes. 10 is the human average, 15 is someone who trains regularly, 17 is a professional, and 19 is the top allowed by the human body, like an Olympic athlete. Anything over that, and you need magic. So it looks good.”
Ophelia squinted as she read the paper. Her eyes stopped at the Constitution. “I’m not an Olympic athlete, though… Is that because of the bloodline?”
“Most likely.”
“Okay, so what do these mean?” Ophelia asked.
Her eyes were fixed on the sheet of numbers she didn’t really understand.
“I’ll first explain more about magic. Once you have some basic knowledge, the attributes will start to make sense,” I said.
I sat her down across from me at the oversized desk. She took out a notebook and started preparing to make notes. Her writing was tidy and easy to read, clearly the result of hours of practice.
“There are three main ways of interacting with mana. Spells, techniques, and inspirations. I won’t say much about inspirations, they’re the domain of social casters, and I’m basically the opposite of one."
“What if I’m a social caster?” Ophelia interrupted.
“You’re not. Your records would show it."
Ophelia nodded and scribbled something in her book.
"Anyway. For each of these, mana is stored differently. For spells, you want mana attuned to yourself, stored around each circle, like a mist blanketing the ring around your spark. For techniques, mana is forged into qi. It loses its ability to cast spells, but can strengthen your body or coat a tool. The number of effects possible with qi is lower, but activating it is much easier and faster. And finally, there’s ember, mana only half‑attuned to you, used by social casters. I’ll focus on spells and give you the basics of techniques. Social casting is for weirdos, and we don’t do that under my roof.”
"And what type of caster am I?"
“My guess is, you’re mostly a spellcaster with the ability to perform techniques.”
“Is that good?” she asked, hopeful.
“There’s no ‘good’ or ‘bad.’ You’ve got a wider range of tools. You won’t out‑cast a dedicated wizard of the same level, and you won’t win a pure martial brawl with a barbarian, assuming equal skill, but by using both you can play to your strengths and the enemy’s weaknesses.”
Ophelia wrote that down, seemingly satisfied.
“So the first thing, and the most important thing, I need you to understand is that mana is alive. It’s not a metaphor. The arcane energy is a being in its own right. Far more vast and complicated than anyone can fully grasp, but alive.” I paused to make sure that she understood that. “Casting a spell is a kind of conversation with mana. A spell has three stages. First is the semantic, the activation.”
I moved my hands slowly in runic patterns, starting with the first rune. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at the familiar shape. It was a pentagram. Ophelia watched, she should have felt some energy flow out of me and gather around my hands.
“You can think of this stage like getting someone’s attention. The first rune, the activation rune, prepares the mana for casting. The runes that follow can attune it further to the kind of spell you’re about to perform, making the later stages faster and the overall spell stronger.”
I added more runes, changing the nature of the magic forming in front of me.
“It feels cold,” Ophelia said, concentrating. “Not temperature cold… like, unpleasant cold. And… sad?”
“Good. You have good senses. I attuned the mana for death spells. So this part is like putting a hand on magic’s shoulder and telling it you’re about to tell a story about death. If you perform everything correctly, it should start to listen.”
“And do I use qi to do the same thing?”
“No, maybe some use hand seals, but those are rare. Converting mana to qi means you don’t need this step. Qi moves with the body naturally, so performing techniques don't require hand movements.”
“How about ember?”
“No idea,” I said.
Ophelia looked a bit disappointed.
“Next part is the chant. Now that you’ve got magic’s attention, you tell it what you want to happen. Let’s say a simple fire spell.” I traced new runes in the air and chanted in the arcane tongue. “In crackling hatred and burning pyre, heed my call, the thing of fire. Ancient thing of burning breath, come to me in smoke and death.”
With a flick of thought toward the secrets of flame, a small fire bloomed in my palm.
Ophelia frowned. “Why did I understand what you said?”
“Did you get the words?”
“No… more like the feeling. You were calling fire in an ominous way.” She stared at the tiny flame.
“Your god granted you basic familiarity with the arcane language. You still don’t know how to connect with that, so you don’t get the literal words, but you catch the intent. You’ll learn it soon, don’t worry.”
“Is it a special language for magic?”
“More or less. You speak German to a German, French to a Frenchman, and arcane to mana. That’s all.” I shrugged. “So, what can you tell me about the chant?”
“I think it rhymed… right?” Ophelia asked.
“Yes. Chants need to rhyme. Take a guess why.”
“So they flow better?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Does the language only work when it rhymes?”
“No. Think about what I told you about magic.”
Ophelia flipped through her notes while I played with the small flame in my palm. She thought a while, then looked up, clearly uncertain of her conclusion. “Because mana likes rhymes?”
“Correct.” Her eyebrows shot up. “You can say the exact same chant without rhyming, do everything else the same, and the spell will be half as effective at best. Some say magic likes poetry, but in reality, no one truly knows why. Mana is alive. It has wants, needs, likes, and dislikes. And like the wants of any living being, they don’t always make sense. Add that to a being as vast as the universe and… yeah. Just rhyme when you cast.”
“Can I sing a chant?”
“Are you a bard?”
She slowly shook her head, writing something down.
“Back in the day, there were artists with extremely high Empathy who could feel mana’s moods and tastes. They created works of art and music so beautiful that magic gathered around them, increasing mana density. That was one way to create mana crystals. Many mages bought those paintings and statues to boost the energy in their homes. There were even some works that were like the Mona Lisa, but for magic. They could create singularities. Permanent memories in mana that could alter the world around them.” I paused, my own thoughts drifting a bit. What would a work of art like that look like? “But to understand something as enormous as magic itself, your Empathy would have to be unimaginably high.”
“That’s amazing.” Sparks lit in Ophelia’s eyes.
Sadly, I had to temper her enthusiasm.
“Yes, but just as acts of beauty or sacrifice can create singularities that celebrate them, acts of violence and cruelty can do the same. And those singularities are extremely dangerous.”
Ophelia winced, probably trying to imagine how horrible something would have to be to impress magic itself.
“Calm down. We’re talking wars with deaths in the thousands or millions, or something particularly messed up. Not every murder creates a singularity, just like not every painting raises the mana level.”
I took a breath, realizing we’d wandered off topic, and that the flame was still dancing in my palm.
I ended the spell. “The chant is basically a short explanation of the spell. It’s the easiest part to perform and the easiest to shorten, usually to just the spell’s name. When you personalize your chants in the future, make sure they rhyme.” I said.
“How about techniques?”
“They have something similar.”
Ophelia kept writing.
“Now let’s say you’re talking to someone and you tell them to throw a rock. Imagine I tell you to throw a rock. What do you picture?”
Ophelia closed her eyes briefly. “I pick up a rock and throw it?”
“What rock?”
“Like… a gray one? Like a… rock.”
“Right. You probably pictured a fist‑sized gray rock. But if you said that to a geology professor, they might picture something else, or ask for mineral type, structure, fracture planes, density, things you don’t even know to specify. When you tell magic to do something, you’re speaking to a vast, all‑knowing entity capable of almost anything. So when you want it to ‘throw a rock,’ you’d better be precise. The more you leave open to interpretation, the slower and less efficient the casting.”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. This was a very important part of the lesson. “The first two parts aren’t strictly necessary. You can omit them through will alone. But the last part of any type of magic is the most important. It’s what distinguishes mages from one another, and where your records start to matter. Your knowledge, the secrets, and the mysteries.”
