Magic was wonderful, it evoked wonders.
It was marvellous, it made marvels.
It was enchanting, it wove enchantments.
It was fantastic... it realized fantasies.
It was terrific. It inspired terror…
A burning sunset, a sea of flame. Stunning glaciers, a wasteland of ice. The twirling fog of death, cursed flesh shifting across pale bone, once rotten brought back to morbid life.
Sacred lands desecrated as what was given meaning, is forsaken once more.
---
Feeling the cold stone beneath himself Ragnem shivered. Looking out over the view before him. A sprawling medieval city surrounded by stone walls that separated peaceful civilization from the rolling plains and wilderness beyond them.
He saw those visions whenever he meditated. Every time he was about to form a mana core his concentration was shattered by them. It was frustrating but he couldn't find anger when he thought about them, only a sense of unease.
"Magic is understanding," Ragnem repeated. His words still felt foreign in his own mouth. "Mana is simply the fuel." This was meant to be the easiest part. Obtaining enlightenment over a concept was the hard bit.
Thinking back to the first day out of the cell he recalled what Markoth and his Knight had shown him;
---
"And of course, if you are found lacking you will no longer receive such treatment," Markoth stated, his sharp gaze holding Ragnem's own.
'If I am found lacking whatever is wrong with me will be exposed and I will be dealt with.' Ragnem assumed as he nodded. "Of course sir, I shall try my utmost to meet expectations." Bowing his head once again. He didn't really care what happened.
His heart felt a familiar warmth, this was a trial. If he needed to restart he could just restart from the cell.
He had just been shown to a closet-sized room with nothing but a bed and a large chest for storing his things, of which he had none. Then was introduced to the Steward who gave him his new job. Cleaning the countless paths in the courtyards and gardens.
He was grateful that was all. He could have gotten the stables or possibly even worse.
Most of his first day passed quickly as he cleaned cobble paths with water and a heavy coarse broom. His back had started to hurt lugging buckets full of water from the well to where he was cleaning.
He hadn't had time to rest, however. Soon the afternoon had come. Without a chance to get food, he was in one of the many courtyards with Markoth and the towering Knight. Hence he was here being pointedly told that not meeting expectations would not be tolerated.
Nodding with satisfaction at Ragnem's response Markoth started to speak again. "I shall give a basic explanation of what mana and magic." His old voice was hasty with clear impatience to get through the basics.
"Mana is simply the fuel, like wood for a fire, it is consumed when using magic and recovers with time as stamina does. It is stored in an 'organ'," Emphasizing the word as his face scrunched a bit. It wasn't a description he liked but it worked for a summarized explanation. "called the mana core. While not using mana it will recover from your own strength making you tired."
"The more you use it, similar to a muscle, the more your mana core shall grow resulting in larger and more pure quantities of mana," Markoth said, pausing with a pointed glare at Ragnem.
Nodding his understanding he didn't ask any questions. If he was summarizing it so briefly it probably wasn't too important to actually learn magic in the first place. He could study the theory later if he needed to.
Letting out a satisfied exhale Markoth turned to his Knight and started to say as the towering figure walked forward. "Magic however is a bit more complicated, depending on how deeply one views it. To cast magic two things are needed, the first is simple, mana. The second, however, is much harder to grasp. That is understanding."
Walking around the Knight until he was standing next to Ragnem, Markoth motioned to the Knight, "Watch."
Unsheathing a broadsword the Knight held it in both hands getting into a battle-ready stance, their helmet clattering ever so slightly as they shook their head.
Swinging the sword in a sudden movement faster than Ragnem's eyes could follow a shimmer silver light trailed behind the motion. Gone as fast as the slash had been. Blinking a few times Ragnem 'felt' the air come back together. The slash had cut the… air?
He didn't know why but the silver light he could recall felt, "Sharp. The understanding of 'sharpness' is my Knight's magic." Markoth said, finishing the thought. "Using his mana he can manipulate the concept to cast magic related to his understanding. The understanding that sharpness cuts. Or at least that is what I assume that understanding is."
Turning back to Ragnem, Markoth continued. "You can never assume what the understanding of someone may truly be for how we understand things can be vastly different. Experiences teach us how to see things. Someone who understands fire may have gained their insight from a hearth that warmed their home and cooked their food. While another might have understood fire from dragon breath that burnt down their home. To vastly different understandings would result in different magic even if both are understandings of fire."
"Many who use magic travel the world to broaden their understanding gaining strength." Markoth finished. Nodding to his Knight as they sheathed their sword. Getting a brief nod back before they walked away to better use their time.
Standing in silence for a moment Ragnem churned the thoughts in his head. Using mana as a fuel someone could bring their understanding of a concept into the world. It was… wonderful.
---
It evoked wonders… Such glorious things could be done. Terrible, but glorious. Staring out over the flickering torches that lit the city like embers he wondered what understanding he would pursue.
Markoth had told him to ponder on it before he had left as well. That was a whole three days ago now and he still couldn't find an answer.
He had to make a mana core first… He should focus on that. He didn't have many memories or experiences so how could he reach enlightenment on something right now?
Closing his eyes again he breathed in deep. He felt the ambient mana around him like Markoth had shown him. Turning his focus to the mana that he could feel inside him. Pulling his mana to his heart slowly. His heart grew warmer.
It was soft, soft like the warmth he gained when he made progress. No, it was that warmth. Learning mana was progress… or at least related to it.
He shouldn't let himself get distracted. Focusing on the mana's warmth he drew it to his heart. He felt it carve through his veins, flowing through his senses like streams. From his fingers and toes to his heart. He could feel his blood, he… could feel a core.
He could see it, within his chest. It wasn't hot or cold. It was simply there. Dwelling in his chest so gently, ready to be called on.
Feeling the mana flow from it at his command it felt amazing. It warmed his veins. It warmed his skin.
Feeling his concentration break as his eyes snapped open he blinked a few times to adjust to the light. The sun was directly ahead of him setting over the horizon in glorious gold.
The sun had just set before though… oh.
"Still ignoring me?" Markoth said. Feeling a stick poke his back again, the same feeling that had snapped him from his concentration
"Sorry sir! I didn't mean to meditate for so long." Ragnem quickly apologized as he stood up. Had he meditated all night and day? He had missed a whole day of work. Not that he cared about the work but if Markoth kicked him out because of it he would have to practice without guidance. Not to mention food and housing, perhaps he could just start again.
Shaking his head Markoth said calmly. "If I wished I would have woken you when I found you this morning. I have already excused you for today so fret not. I was right to do so, you have formed a substantial mana core." His voice rose as he smiled gently for the first time since the cell.
"Thank you, sir," Ragnem said, smiling a bit himself. He was now going to learn magic. It would take more than just a few nights… But it was going to happen.
Looking out towards the sunset Markoth asked. "What have you decided to understand?"
Pausing for a moment Ragnem stopped himself from answering honestly. How would he explain understanding those things? "I haven't yet sorry, not that I haven't. I just... don't know." Ragnem answered.
"That is to be expected, one cannot have understanding when they remember nothing," Markoth responded as he looked at Ragnem. "This must all be so… unknown." He sympathized.
Nodding Ragnem said, "It is."
"You do well moving forward. I could not understand how one could have such determination to grow when they know not what they grow for." Markoth stated.
"I grow for myself, that much I know. That's all I know, it's what drives me to keep on going." Ragnem acknowledged to himself. It wasn't the cold or the warmth no it was that need to… do this for himself. It was pure selfishness of wanting to find out what this all was. At least that's what he believed.
"Whatever you were running to or from. You pushed limits that cannot be surpassed by will alone. There was reason, something more than yourself driving you." Markoth guessed, his thoughtful look lit by the last rays of the sun as his eyes turned to face Ragnem. Questioning, calling forth an answer.
"You must understand why you ran, that would be engraved on your soul. Burned into your very nature by things beyond yourself. I have seen soldiers march miles under the smouldering sun, covered in their own waste." Markoth said, his tone dull.
"Many things magic does can be marvelled at. But just as many instil terror." Markoth whispered. His words seething with magic. Humming in Ragnems ears.
"I ponder if what you were running from is something safe to understand," Markoth said. Asking a question that burnt in Ragnem's ears. "Why were you running?"
Unbidden, words responded before Ragnem could stop them. "The cold… I was running from the cold." His words shook as he recalled the feeling… Cold so draining it had emptied all life and warmth from him.
Staring silently at Ragnem, Markoth watched his eyes. Whatever magic he was using vanished suddenly as he turned around and started to walk away. Satisfied for now, saying over his shoulder, "Then that 'cold' shall be your greatest strength Ragnem. I doubt any have faced such cold before."
As Markoth's back left Ragnem's sight the last light from the setting sun faded. Leaving him alone beneath the dark sky. He could feel the chill from the night air, but it wasn't 'cold.' Not like he understood it.
Magic was enchanting, it could do so much more than make fire or ice. Some enchantments could affect the mind… and others could do much more terrible things.
---
Laying in bed Ragnem stared at the ceiling. His mind refused to sleep. He could only think about the warmth in his heart. Did he really have to get rid of it to gain an understanding?
He would have to start again, should he not try to do more with what he had now? What more could he do without an understanding. He needed magic.
No, he wanted Magic.
He wanted to become strong. He wanted the strength to pass these trials.
He could get it… he just needed to be willing.
But was he willing to go back to that cold?
No… he never wanted to face it again. It was the whole reason he wanted to complete the trial. He would learn magic one day. He would… but for now he needed to figure out what this trial was.
Something to do with Markoth. It wasn't learning magic, he would know. Just like how he knew that killing the goblins was his goal once he saw them.
Sitting up he groaned as he rubbed his face with his hands. Why did this have to be so difficult?
He could just stay here and learn magic… he didn't need to pass this trial yet, so why rush? Magic was able to do anything… if he got strong enough. Maybe he could break free?
Laying back down he closed his eyes as he did his best to relax. Tomorrow he would find what else he could understand.
--- A month later ---
Scrubbing the stone Ragnem felt one of the blisters on his hand tear. Cursing as he shook it. Seeing the curled worn skin of his palm a vision flashed of the grass field and blue sky. How untouched his palm had been. He could at least go back to the cell…
Shaking his head he was about to grab the broom again but a voice full of concern called out stopping him. "Ragnem? Are you alright?"
"Mearin." He said as she came into focus, a smile stretching his lips as he nodded. "Of course, just a blister. Nothing that will stop me though." Trying to straighten his shoulders and soften his expression. About to start scrubbing the stone again.
Feeling her grab his wrist as she said. "Nonsense! This needs to be taken care of, if it gets infected you will be in for a world of trouble." Her voice was a melody as she pulled him towards one of the many castle entrances.
Trying to interrupt her Ragnem weakly said, "I must finish that courtyard today or I will get an earful from the Steward-"
"Then I shall talk to him for you!" She huffed as she spun around to face him. The anger she had in her movements dissipated as she saw his face. "What's going on Ragnem? You were so much more… Lively just a few days ago? Are you not well?"
Pausing he shivered. His heart froze over more. He felt it, a hunch to his back. Buckets of water were harder to carry. His skin tore more easily. He wasn't making any progress.
He couldn't find an understanding.
He tried.
Nothing but the cold, however, filled his mind.
"Can you not talk to me?" She asked her voice strained. Looking up Ragnem met her eyes and saw… hurt?
Shaking his head he responded, "T-There is nothing to say." His voice choked as he felt his heart growing colder. Why was he losing progress… why was he getting colder? "I'm fine." He whispered as he was pushed down into a chair.
Feeling her warm grasp against his wrist as she started to pull a coarse bandage around his hand hiding the skin of his palms he felt something in his chest yearn. His heart beat slower.
Oh, that's what was going on…
Asking quietly, her voice barely a whisper. "Markoth no longer sees you anymore does he?"
Shaking his head Ragnem said nothing… it was getting hard to move.
"At least you can keep the work you have here? Right?" His wrist was starting to feel colder in her grip. "I have no doubt that you will be able to gain an understanding soon though!" Mearin said, trying to lift her voice but failing to do so.
"And when you do then he will tutor you once more. I am sure that you can still cast magnificent magic!. You can find your home too!" She continued although her voice stopped slowly as shock overtook her.
"R-Ragnem? Wh- what is happening?" Her face filled with horror as the wrist she was holding crumbled in her palm.
He could barely find the strength to speak. It was so cold. But he did. He did… He spoke. "I'm sorry Mearin." As she watched the darkness travel up his arm and slowly start to make his flesh fall away from a skeleton that turned to dust.
His heart had become too cold. Even trying to avoid it he was unable to do anything. He had tried to gain an understanding… he had tried to just progress enough to keep the cold at bay.
But it was useless.
He had wanted to stay there, to learn magic. But the trial didn't want him to. It wanted him to move forward. He was growing too attached, he had gotten to know too many people. He had started to 'live' in Zenithal. It had started to become his home…
It didn't matter how much progress he had made. He had stayed there for too long. It had become too warm.
He didn't want to understand the cold. But he did.
The chill of stagnation. The freezing grasp of solitude. Even with the warmth of progression. His heart and soul must remain frozen.
How utterly unbearable the chilling realization was. He had wanted to deny the trial once more. And again, he had learnt a cruel lesson. The trial was inevitable.
The cold was absolute, the cold was cruel.
He understood he was not important. Just a tool that had one purpose. Progress.
Purpose… how could he forget his glorious purpose…
His magic… would be… terrifying.