“Your Highness, have you ever wondered what is the essence of magic in our world?”
Link to the Image.
The arcane tutor inquired as he glanced behind his horn-rimmed glasses at the student he was desperately attempting to culture.
A smartly dressed boy levitated above him in a relaxed napping position. The boy’s crimson jacket soared above them in an equally lazy circle like a manta ray with the coat sleeves flapping slowly.
After a minute of silence, the boy popped open one eye to gaze at his tutor.
“Isn’t magic supposed to be a mysterious force that just occurs in an entropic state until it can be tamed?”
“That my prince is an ultimately vague assumption that people commonly take,”
The boy lifted himself up and slowly descended to the floor, his interest finally piqued.
“Long ago before magecraft was a distinguished position, many Gythians assumed that magic was simply a random fickle within the grand frame of the celestial spheres.”
He gestured towards an armillary sphere from the eastern nations that was resting on a pedestal, the various glass rings detailing the fixed stars in orbit, gentally clinking with the enchanted mechanism.
The crimson jacket stiffened before slowly floating down, landing neatly onto the boy’s shoulders as he crossed his arms and frowned.
“An anomaly mind you that many scholars have now begun to challenge as a new theory gained traction within academia”
The arcane tutor begins putting on stiff airs as his voice shifted from the wistful tone of a philosopher to the posh patronization of Gythia’s academics.
"While the theory itself is convoluted and has yet to demonstrate credibility we now believe that magic is a manifestation of one’s true self in the purest sense of the word.
At this proclamation, the boy swelled with skepticism but his naive curiosity managed to stifle his retort. Instead, he questioned his tutor further.
“What do you mean by one’s true self? and if that hypothesis was credible couldn’t that mean that anyone has the potential to wield magic without the use of a medium?”
“I guess phrasing the term as ones true self is a bit… abstract. Perhaps calling it a person’s magical essence sums it up better.”
"The theory first started when a natural philosopher looking into the random characteristics that seemed to crop up in mageborn; most notably why they’re magical abilities could never be inherited or combined no matter how they interbred.
The tutor paused indulgently smiling at the boy.
“Have you ever wondered why there are no two mages with powers exactly alike?”
The boy stroked his chin thoughtfully with his gloved hands at this insight. Now that his arcane tutor mentioned it, none of the Gythian mageborn had similar powers. Even the mage guild themselves were diverse and exotic with their power despite their strict management of arcane bloodlines.
“No professor I have not considered that.”
The boy admitted.
“That is because everyone is unique in their essence and their outlook on the world. I mean that’s why it was to no one’s surprise that the Archmage’s child would turn out to be the first ever dark mage in Gythia’s history!”
The man chuckled softly for a moment than coughed before continuing to speak addressing the boy directly now.
“What kind of person you are and what kind of person you strive you also affect how the magic you wield will interact with you. Even for people not of halycon blood are able to bend the arcane to their visage.”
The tutor turned and paced around the room which had endless walls adorned with bookshelves made of ash that reached up to to the seemingly endless skylight above. The stained glass depicted the ponderous cycles of the sun and moon along with countless constellations in a fixed array.
“Everyone is the architect of their own power and their fates, even if it is a minor cobblestone of a vast cathedral or a minor ripple in the pond of entropy.”
The boy pondered those words for once gazing at the alchemical fire that was at the center of the room.
“Many people describe the magic and the arcane only in what they can achieve with it, however, few people ever describe the feelings and essence behind that magic and thus cannot be considered Magus in the true sense of the word.”
The elderly man finally stopped speaking and looked up once more at the boy.
“Well that’s enough theory for the day, how about we turn our attention to its application?”
The boy smiled he outstretched one arm and formed an arcane symbol with the left hand, while his right hand drew back an imaginary projectile like an archer.
He concentrated and remembering what the professor had just told him, focused on his essence. In his mind, a gilded bird was interwoven with the touch of King Midas glided towards him.
He released his right hand and a golden bolt erupted from his arcane sigil, the shaft a brilliant double helix intertwined.
The angular head of the mystical missile gave off shimmering echo of richness as it traveled at a fair distance before dissolving into the ether from whence it came.
The tutor gave his student an indulgent smile once more.
“Well done!, well done indeed Prince Magnus of Gythia, I’m happy to see the fruits of your studies bearing fruit at last. We will be expecting great things from you.”
The boy gazed at his tutor and smiled back confident and regal in manner. Slowly he descended to the floor with the gentle fluttering sound of a sephaphim’s wings.