Nick stretched his arms and hopped from foot to foot, trying to clear his mind and limber up his body, which was already sore from several hours of practice earlier that morning. What Frost was suggesting seemed absurd, but then again, why wouldn’t learning how to use magic be absurd? No real-life constraints operated upon it.

  “All right,” he said. “I can do this. It’ll be easy after all the fighting and dying, right?”

  “No promises,” Frost said. A wry smile stretched her face. “But if you’re as good at magic as you are at dying, then you’ll figure this out in no time. Now, close your eyes.”

  Nick did as he was told. Frost stepped closer, as evidenced by the nearing of her voice, and he had to work extra hard to keep focused when she grabbed his hands and lifted them.

  “There are many different manifestations of magic, each with their own rules, schools, benefits, and limitations,” she said. “There’s three major types I’m aware of. The first involves recanting strange old phrases and words of power. I don’t have any such spell books, so that’s out. The second are spells granted by faith and belief in various gods and divinities. I don’t think I need to explain why that’s not going to work. This leaves the third most common. In Yensere, and elsewhere, sometimes rare individuals are born able to cast magic. We’re going to trick Cataloger into believing you’re one of them so it gives you the requisite special classification.”

  My evaluations are logical and consistent—there is no “trick” to changing reality within Yensere

  “You keep saying these things like they make sense,” Nick said, joking to hide his nervousness and pretending Cataloger had said nothing. He desperately wished to succeed, and not for the reasons Frost insisted he try. Yensere was dangerous, and having killed Baron Hulh, they had made powerful enemies. She wanted Nick to harness magic to better defend himself as well as grow more dangerous in combat.

  Nick, meanwhile, just thought it’d be really, really fun to throw a fireball or snap his fingers to summon shards of ice. All the usefulness in combat was a side benefit.

  “Arguing will only make this worse,” Frost said. He flinched as she flicked his nose with her finger, startling his eyes open. She hovered so near, her face filling up his vision, he instinctively blushed.

  “You’re the cruelest person alive in Yensere,” he said, feeling his neck redden and wishing he were not so easily flustered.

  “Not even close,” she said. “Now, stop stalling and close your eyes.”

  He did so, and lowered his head a bit as if he were asleep. In the darkness of his mind, Frost’s words floated like weightless torches.

  “Some people are capable of wielding multiple elements, but most learn to manipulate a single type. For now, let’s start with fire. I want you to lift your hand and envision an orb of flame hovering just above your palm. Nothing crazy, nothing huge, just a little flicker.”

  Nick did so. It was easy enough to see his hand in his mind’s eye, and not much more of a stretch to picture a bit of fire burning above it, as if an invisible wick sprouted from the center of his palm.

  “Good,” Frost said. “Look at the flame. See the way it flickers and twists in the wind. Feel its heat on your palm, warm and gentle. Remind yourself it is your flame, burning solely through your desire. It is a part of you, birthed from your own strength, your own will. See it burn hotter. Feel it grow brighter. Stronger. It is fierce. It is real. Do you feel it, Nick? Its heat? Its light?”

  Nick tried, he really did, but when he opened his eyes, he saw only his bare hand lifted.

  “It can’t be that simple,” he said. “I just imagine a fire, and then it’s there?”

  “Pretty much,” Frost said.

  “So anyone can imagine a gust of wind, and it’ll appear? Then why doesn’t everyone wield magic?”

  “Because not everyone knows what this place truly is,” Frost said, lowering her voice. “Not like you and I do. What others believe is made true for them, and so we make it true for us. Stop doubting. Stop asking questions. Close your eyes and see it, Nick. Feel it. Believe it, and watch it burn.”

  She stepped away. Nick let the words sink into him. She was right. Over and over, he’d told himself this world was an advanced form of make-believe. Yes, it had rules, but those rules still enabled Sir Gareth to slow time and Frost to lash the ground with ice. Eyes closed, he raised his hand once more. The darkness of his mind lit with fire, and he saw it as a blurry blob hovering above his palm.

  Feel its heat, he told himself, and he tried so hard to believe it would be there when he opened his eyes…

  …and saw an empty palm.

  “Shit.”

  Frost laughed.

  “Hey, you’re actually trying now, so there’s that,” she said, tapping her lips with a finger. “Maybe fire isn’t the right element.”

  “How will I know the right one?”

  She shrugged. “When I first learned, I tried for fire, too. But it never connected. I don’t know how else to explain it. Ice, though?” She swirled her fingers, forming a thin little stem of ice that bloomed outward into a crystalline flower. “It just felt…right. Something I knew how to control, how to shape. How to make a part of me.”

  Nick clapped his hands and tried to psyche himself up.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “All right, then, let’s see if ice works.” He smirked at her. “And if it does, I guess I’ll have to change my name, too. You and me, Frost and Icicle, ready to take on all of Yensere.”

  Frost winced. “Please do not name yourself Icicle.”

  “I think it’s a fine name.”

  Do you wish to know my opinion?

  “Just a joke, Cataloger,” Nick grumbled, closing his eyes.

  I see—please remember my prior concern that humor creates potential confusion

  As if Nick could ever forget. Bowing his head, he thought of Frost’s manipulation of ice. She made it seem so effortless. With but a flick of her wrist, she’d encased his legs with her . Her crushed guards at Baron Hulh’s manse. He tried to imagine a layer of frost covering his hand, wielded with similar ease. He tried to feel the cold of it seeping into him, radiating a frozen aura to kiss his exposed skin. For one brief moment, the cold touched him, but it was even more fleeting than the kiss of fire.

  “Damn it,” he said, opening his eyes to confirm the lack of ice. “I don’t think that’s it, Frost.”

  Fire. Ice. Wind. Shadow. Light. Life and death itself. He imagined it all, attempting to command elements no matter how strange or laughable. Time passed, an hour, perhaps two; he didn’t know anymore. He called out the names of spells, things he thought might work in the pattern Cataloger had spoken in his mind when watching Frost fight. . . . Nothing ever happened. All the while, Frost watched and encouraged. The lack of a single burst of magic might not have frustrated her, but it maddened Nick to no end.

  “This is hopeless,” he said after what felt like the twentieth time he’d tried to summon a flickering flame within his palm. “I’m trying, Frost, but it just doesn’t make sense.”

  To his surprise, she grabbed his extended hands and pulled them toward her. Her grip was firm, the fabric of her gloves soft. Nick felt paralyzed by the blue of her eyes as she leaned in close.

  “Why do you care if it makes sense?” she asked. “This world is a dream, Nick. A cruel miracle. It is chaos given law, and we are here to dance within it.”

  She pulled his hands open, her fingers tucked underneath his. Frost floated upward through them, solidifying, gaining substance and shape, until blooming outward to form a swan of ice hovering just beyond his touch. It was small and majestic, the detail of the feathers marked with frost, its eyes blue pebbles of ice somehow colder and deeper than the rest.

  “Forget spells,” she said. “Forget magic and power and stats. Embrace what is impossible. When you close your eyes and focus on your place here in Yensere, what brings you wonder?”

  Her hands dropped, and immediately he missed them. The swan fell into his grip, so cold, so delicate. It melted instantly, the magic holding it together falling apart. Nick focused on the sensation. In Yensere, it was real and true. He felt the water drip across his fingers, felt its lingering chill.

  Once more closing his eyes, he pretended he was alone. In the quiet, he tilted his head, not to the ground, but to the sky. He felt the sunlight fall upon his face. The gentle breeze teased his clothes.

  What brings you wonder?

  Nick tried to capture that feeling as he softly swayed. His terrified awe at seeing the ice leap from Frost’s hand when he was chased by villagers. The surreal joy in watching Sir Gareth manipulate time, even if it was to Nick’s detriment. To walk a forest filled with berries he didn’t recognize and be hunted by creatures twisted and weird that should not exist. Seeing the ghost of his father trapped within a mirror. There was joy in the unknown, even when those living within it greeted him not with open arms but instead a drawn blade.

  This was a world in which Nick could become so much more than he was. A world that could not limit him. He lifted his hands and briefly he imagined both fire and frost upon them. He dismissed that idea just as quickly. No, they weren’t right. Neither was the sudden gust of wind that swirled about his legs and up his back to tease the collar of his shirt.

  Nick knew what set his imagination alight. A memory came to him of a time spent with his parents on a distant terraformed planet watching a tremendous storm come rolling in just before nightfall. He dared not hope for it. Hope was wrong. Belief was a trap. Certainty. He needed certainty. It was time to stop relying on Cataloger to tell him the way, and instead force Yensere to accept him as he was. As he chose to become.

  This world was real, and Nick was real within it. It would obey.

  His hands rose higher. The wind swirled faster. He felt a shadow cross over his face as the yellow sun was hidden. The hairs on his neck stood on end. His fingers curled. His teeth bared. When he opened his eyes, words came to him of their own accord, and he spoke them with uncontrolled delight as the power surged through him.

  “I wield the birthright of thunder.”

  Lightning streaked from the sky, twin trails, crackling white, to strike the center of his palms. The jolts swirled about him, clinging to his arms like friendly vipers, before dissipating into dust. Thunder followed, booming, and amid it, Nick laughed.

  Reassessment

  Level: 6 (+1)

  Statistical Improvements:

  Agility: 3

  Physicality: 4

  Endurance: 3

  Focus: 3 (+3)

  Mana: 21

  Special Classification Granted: Lightning Caster

  Nick gasped as the rush reached his head. He felt lighter than air. He stared at his hands as faint crackles of electricity twisted and teased through them before vanishing underneath his skin.

  “Nick!” Frost said, clapping. “You did it!”

  Nick turned toward one of the trees behind him and thrust his arm forward. A thick bolt of lightning tore from his palm to strike the center of the tree, blasting apart the bark. Immediately after, Nick felt a pull in his chest and a sudden strain on his mind.

  Spell Unlocked: Lightning Bolt

  Cost: 6 mana

  Attributes: Lightning, Chain Effect

  Projects a single bolt of lightning—deals double damage to targets submersed in water

  “Mana?” Nick asked. “What is that?”

  Mana is the physical energy cost of each spell, represented by the blue bar in your peripheral vision

  On cue, a third bar materialized directly below the green of his stamina. It was a light blue, painfully small compared to the others, and no longer full. When he focused on it, a number appeared in its center: <15/21>.

  “So I can only throw this two more times,” he said after some basic math. “How long does it take to refill?”

  “You can cheat it some ways,” Frost explained. “Potions and the like. Usually, though, you need to rest for a few hours.”

  Nick stared at his hand. With but a thought, more lightning swirled around it. It was so easy now, the knowledge intimate and natural. With absolute confidence, he knew he could fling those two remaining by merely desiring them to occur. His imagination whirled, and he grinned at Frost.

  “What other spells can I cast with this?” he asked.

  “You’re an innate spell caster now,” she said. “You can cast whatever the system will codify and accept as within your capabilities.”

  She stepped a good distance away, particles of ice floating off her hands. When she slammed her wrists together, an flew toward the nearest oak, splintering into its bark. She flung a second, shattering the already existing ice. Then she stepped aside and gestured.

  “Care to practice with what little mana you have left?” she asked.

  The first hint of lightning crackled from Nick’s palm and across his knuckles.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said, and let the bolt fly.