"Everything is ready for your departure, young mistress," Adolf said, handing her a box packed with sandwiches, just the way she liked, prepared by his own hands. "I hope you enjoy it."
Isha cradled the precious box. "Oh, Adolf, you have always enjoyed mothering me, haven't you?"
"What can I say, young mistress, it is one of my many strengths."
Isha laughed. "I will miss you, Adolf."
"As will I, young mistress."
"Don't forget to send me your cooking every now and then, I've always enjoyed them."
Adolf nodded.
"Take care of yourself mistress," he said as she climbed into the carriage, stifling her tears.
She settled into her seat opposite Master Castra.
Isha poked her head out of the shuttered window of the carriage, waved goodbye to Adolf, as the carriage began its slow rumble. She watched him shrink into the distance, his figure disappearing amidst the tall grass, before she settled back.
They were heading south, to Naiker's Field, an expanse of pasture and rolling hills, dotted with many farm lands and occasional villages and cities. It was where Isha's new master planned to prepare her for her admission to the Black Coral academy.
Sitting opposite her, Castra smiled, not a wide smile but a meticulous one, hinting at the deep knowledge she possessed. The [Great-Mage] was a woman of commanding presence, her hair bound tightly in a bun. Her eyes, piercing into Isha's soul with every glance.
"You seem close to that attendant, Isha," Castra remarked, breaking the silence.
"I am. He has taken care of me for as long as I can remember."
Castra nodded. "Are you eager, then? To learn?"
What kind of question was that? Why else would she have climbed on this carriage? "I am."
"That is good to know. But remember this, Isha, Magic is not merely a tool, but a force that drives the very fabric of our world," she said. "Magic is everywhere, you must harness this force with precision and control. If you have the right presence of mind and patience, a Mage can achieve almost anything with their mana."
"I understand," Isha said.
Magic wasn't just a study of a pond, it was an ocean—the world itself. It was an endless pursuit of discovery and secrets, discovering ways to achieve things that are currently thought impossible. Her mother's face flashed in her mind. No, it could also be a pursuit of death and destruction, it depended on the person.
For some, it could be a passion to know things, for others, a means to an end. What was magic for her? Isha knew the answer on a basic level, but deep inside, on a fundamental level—she did not know the answer. Maybe it was indeed as simple as finding a cure to a disease that had killed her brother, or maybe there was more to it, she didn't know. She would find out, though.
Castra leaned forward, her narrowing eyes demanded attention. "We must tread carefully, Isha, magic is invaluable, but it is also dangerous. The consequences of mistakes are … severe."
Those eyes, she is serious, Isha gulped. "What kind of consequences?"
"You will be learning the arts of war, so overestimating your talents will result in death, so will underestimating yourself. You must learn your limits and walk a fine line between courage and self-preservation—do you understand?"
Isha nodded, crossing her legs.
"There is more," Castra said, extending her hand, her palm facing the ceiling. "In battles, use too little mana—" something flickered above her hand and instantly winked out, leaving behind a barely visible coiling smoke, "-and you will achieve nothing. You could die that way or worse, captured."
"And if you use too much mana, more than you can handle—" tongues of flames roared out of Castra's palm, licking out at the ceiling of the carriage. Isha backed away out of instinct, but the flames scattered into motes of light that disappeared before it could damage anything "-and the mana will consume your Magicore, damaging or destroying it. You know what happens then?"
"Let me guess, I die?"
Isha tried really, really hard, but she couldn't keep the sardonic tone from her voice. It seemed all the dangers Castra spoke revolved around death, may it be direct or indirect.
"No," Castra said, giving her a particularly odd look. "When your Magicore is damaged, you lose your ability to attune with mana forever. AND, you will suffer from perpetual pain, like acid and nails running through your veins. As far as we know, the damage is irreversible."
Isha shivered at the thought of living like that. It would be the worst form of torture. "I wouldn't want to live like that."
"Nobody does. Only those with the strongest will choose to live, everyone else kill themselves. It happens more than you think. So you must be very delicate with your Mana."
Isha blinked, there was something about her master's revelations…
Careless use of mana? Damaged Magicore? Unending pain? Isha's eyes widened when the implications of those words hit home. She bolted to her feet, her head slamming into the ceiling so hard that it brought dark spots in her visions.
That hurt, she thought, tears welling in her eyes. But tears and pain didn't stop her from turning her eyes sharply at Castra. "I always used my mana without any care in the world. Are you saying I was endangering myself to such … endless pain," Isha shivered. "Why did no one tell me this?"
"Calm down girl," Castra said. "Stop acting a fool and sit. And wipe that tear, it's unbecoming of a mage."
Isha did so. Something about the tone of her voice made her obey the woman without delay.
"Don't you think if you were in any danger your mother would have intervened. She is an Archmage for Naiker's sake!"
Isha glared. "I wouldn't put it past her. She could call it a 'valuable lesson'."
Castra sighed, massaging her temples. "I see. I should have explained things better. I had expected you to know this."
With the grace of a princess, Castra withdrew the wand from her hair, allowing it to cascade down her shoulder. She waved her wand and an image of a mighty river blocked by a sturdy dam, one side overflowing with water while the other remained unnaturally dry.
Isha wasn't surprised by the apparition, it was just an illusion. But what was the point of this?
Isha did not voice her question. The answer would come.