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41. Never fear your own power
🕑 Added 2025-08-30 10:05:32 +0000 UTCOphelia woke up from a nightmare. She had dreamed about the strangest things. She dreamed she had been taken by some pagans, that she was going to be a priest of an unknown god, and that… she looked around, realizing she was not in her room back home.
Instead, she was lying on a bed in a wooden house. The interior was extremely sparse, with only a nightstand, a chair, and the hard bed she was lying on.
But that meant this was not a dream. The altar, the visions, the magic, and the ritual. A storm of emotion hit her. She had killed a man. A man she did not particularly like, but a human being. A living, breathing human, and she had taken his life with her own two hands.
Nausea hit her as she tried to find a place to empty her stomach. She finally found a bucket prepared right next to her bed. After a few minutes of dry heaving, she finally lay back down. She could not identify the emotions. Guilt, fear, sadness, and disappointment in herself mixed together. But also other feelings she was not proud of. Happiness over surviving the ordeal was at the forefront of the emotional mess. Another was a small bit of excitement somewhere deep inside over the magic she was promised.
Then there was something else. A feeling of being cradled, cared for by something, something she realized came from inside her. She could not put a finger on it, but she felt something foreign, something that did not belong to her inside her mind.
She was a mess. Any time she tried to sense and identify the feeling, the guilt would remind her that she should repent, that she should focus on remorse, not on magic. But how do you even repent for something like that?
Her train of thought was broken as the door swung open. The man with hollow eyes walked inside. Samuel was his name, if she remembered correctly. A person she could not tell if she liked, hated, or both at once. He did unnerve her, though, now much less, for some reason.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, dragging the chair over.
She hesitated. What to say to that? "Not too well. I… I just want to stop existing for a while, to escape all of this." She finished, pointing her finger at her head.
The man smiled. "You’ll be better. The villagers will soon release your friends. I doubt you want to say goodbye after what happened, but I thought you should know."
Ophelia panicked a bit, ready to walk back into the barn. "I must go with them. I can't stay here. You said they would release me. Y-you sa—"
"Calm down. They will release you in your own time. Your body is still tired from the change, not to mention your mental state. They will throw us out the first chance they get, though. The chief's wife is a bit pissed I managed to win the bet, I think." He chuckled.
"What change?" Ophelia asked, confused, patting herself for some new appendage.
She then received a mirror, and looking into it, she could see small but present changes. Her eyes, previously greenish-gray, now had a strange tint of purple in them. Her hair was darker than before, her skin a bit paler, and her fingers seemed to be a bit longer and smoother. She looked at herself with growing confusion.
"You achieved a state of ignited spark, the first step in cultivating your mana. With your spark, some bloodline seems to have stirred, changing you a bit," explained the man.
"Spark? Bloodline? What?"
"All in due time. It’s a good thing. You are stronger, better, and more suited to your chosen field of magic. It’s a thing to celebrate."
She didn’t feel in a celebratory mood.
“I will explain to you all that happened when we have some time, but right now I came here to discuss your future. What do you want to do now?"
"I need to get my thoughts in order. Compensate Tom’s family. I—I have to."
"Suffer?" the man raised his eyebrows. "If you want to do that, feel free. But that won’t help you work through your guilt. You have to accept your actions and deal with the emotions by facing them rather than trying to atone for something that wasn’t your fault. And don’t worry, it will come with time, surprisingly easily, even if you don’t feel like that right now. I can sense your mind, your aura. They are strong. Even now, there probably is a part of you that is already excited by the idea of magic."
Ophelia opened her eyes wider. A scary thought entered her mind. Was he a mind reader?
"Before you ask, yes, to some extent I can read a mind, but I’m not doing it now. Mages have a strong mentality. We can take quite a bit. You will calm down and feel better, but you have to try to let go of the guilt. You can’t just remove it, but at least try not to give in to it. Don’t feed it. Don’t ponder it. Each time it gives you an idea like 'wallow in despair,' tell it to fuck off. Accept what happened. Try to quiet your thoughts."
"It’s tough," said Ophelia weakly.
"I know. But you have to do it if you want to master magic." He straightened a bit, his face becoming serious. "And if you want to master magic, then I can teach you. I can offer you an apprenticeship."
Ophelia stared at him with an open mouth. Currently, she was struggling to hold herself together, fighting for each breath, and he was talking about magic. She almost wanted to scream at him, but then a thought arrived telling her to take the offer. A thought produced by the part of her that was excited, the part that wanted to drown out the guilt. "What would that entail? What would I have to do?"
"Nothing really. Just come back with me to the USA. Once I have my family estate, you’d live there and learn magic from me and other teachers I will find for you. But you would have to leave your old life behind. And fair warning, the world of magic is not a calm one. There is a lot of danger. It is a place ruled by strength."
"What about my old life, my college, my family, my... my. Well, my everything?"
"Can you continue normal life after what happened here? Can you just be a doctor and live a normal life? I'm not saying you can't have any contact with family or friends, or that you should completely forget your previous life. I'm simply offering to change who you will become."
She hesitated. This was a massive decision to make. She was afraid. Afraid of leaving her whole life behind. But then again, it was not much of a life. The thought of leaving her mother and being her own person was tempting. And there was another thing that drew her in. "If I go with you, will I get to decide my own fate? Or will some stronger people tell us who to be and what to do?"
The man started laughing as if she had told a joke rather than asked a fair question. "I can assure you, aside from me telling you what to do as your teacher, there won’t be anyone else deciding the fate of anyone in the Alhazred clan. Even if we are not many for now." The man’s smile became much more ominous. "The last family that tried went missing in unexplained circumstances."
"Then I’m in," she said, hesitation gone.
"Good. That’s what I like to hear." Samuel got up from his chair. "Get yourself ready. We will leave after tomorrow if you feel well enough."
He started to walk away, but she shouted after him. "Wait!" He stopped. "You said that I should take my mind off the guilt. So can you teach me some magic?" she asked with hope in her voice.
"No," came a response so firm it surprised her, as he had seemed very eager to teach her a second ago.
He walked back to her and, sighing, sat back down. "It’s not that I don’t want to, but first you will have to deal with the fear you have associated with magic."
She still looked downtrodden.
"It’s for your own good. Let me give you a brief first lesson. And it’s important that you understand what I’m about to say and remember it." He paused for a second. "Magic is alive."
She tilted her head, confused.
"Mana, the energy used to cause magical phenomena, the source of magic you should now sense inside yourself, is alive. And I’m not using some convoluted metaphor. It has a mind of its own. Sometimes it acts like a child, curious and innocent, other times it acts as an ancient entity, shaping the fabric of existence to suit its vision. But it is alive.” He paused to give her a second to take it in. “When you learn magic, cast spells, and interact with it, you shape your connection to mana. The energy inside you is already tuned to listen to what you say, but you still have to learn to make it do what you want, to properly explain what you want it to do."
The man leaned forward a bit and continued. "When you shape your connection, it is important not to feel fear. For now, you will use common, bland chants, but soon you will start to personalize chants and omit parts of the spell using your own willpower to force magic into obedience. And in this way, your relationship with it will form. Your mana will actually take personal shape based on your connection. It can be a beloved pet if you love magic, or it can be a friendly person if you treat it as a friend. But first, it will be just colors and shapes."
"What’s the shape for you?" asked Ophelia, curious.
"It’s rude to ask a mage about their relationship with magic. It’s a bit like asking, 'What’s your relationship with your parents?'” She opened her mouth to apologize, but he continued. “I can tell you, but don't ask other people. Mine appears as a mysterious, beautiful woman. Although…" the man stopped for a second, “It was like that ever since I can remember. She always looked the same ever since I could see it."
"Sorry for asking."
He just shrugged ."Anyway. You have to remember it. You can’t fear your own power." His voice was serious. "If you feel fear or hesitation when forming the relationship with mana, it will learn to answer to that, to answer to fear and hesitation. You will either have to feel that fear for the rest of your life or try to re-attune it later, but that is very hard to do."
"So what should my relationship look like?" asked Ophelia.
"It’s different for everyone. But there are ways to tell early. Close your eyes."
She did as instructed.
"Now imagine you are casting spells. Don’t think about what it entails, just imagine you are chanting some arcane words. Got that?"
"Yes."
"Now. What do you see around you? Where are you sitting? How’s the atmosphere?" the man explained as she concentrated.
She furrowed her eyebrows, thinking for a second before speaking with hesitation. "I’m in a library. I’m at a desk with scrolls, a quill, and paper, and I’m studying and chanting something. The library is like… um… mysterious? Lit up by candles. I think that’s all that comes to mind."
"Good. So the scholarly, mysterious kind. Your relationship will probably be that of a mixture of mystery and scientific approach. Not bad. Was there some monster or unnerving shadow in that vision?"
"No. I don’t think so."
"Good. Looks like your mind is resilient. The fear didn’t seem to leave a mark. Make sure you don’t let it." The man nodded his head.
"If it’s okay to ask, what is it like for you?" she asked, curious.
"I see myself on top of a massive tower. It’s filled with ancient tomes of deep and forbidden knowledge. There is a storm raging and a purple rift in the sky leading to the void. I control the magic around me with a simple thought." He paused for a second. "I also always see the woman standing in one of the windows of the tower. It’s funny. I can’t imagine it without her in the vision, even if I try. It’s amazing how mana interacts with our minds." He relaxed in the chair. "So my relationship is that of control and a want for power and knowledge. My chants are usually ominous, grandiose, and commanding."
"Is it good?"
"It means that as long as I’m true to my purpose, magic will obey me. But if I start hesitating or become unsure, my spells may break or backfire."
She pondered what he said for a second. As the man went back for the exit, he added, "We will talk more about magic, its history, and the contact you made when you are better. And don’t be surprised, your mind probably will slowly remember the presence of the god and the contact made, so bits and pieces will come back to you over time. Now rest."
She nodded and went back to lie down. She felt a bit better with her mind off the horrors of the previous days. She was still filled with guilt, but the burden felt a bit lighter.
And as the man said, bits and pieces returned to her that night. In the dream, she remembered the woman with eyes like the night sky. She remembered making a contract. She remembered she would sleep amongst the stars when she died. She remembered asking for power.
And she remembered a command: “Follow her son.”
