The Twin Mage

"What do you mean by 'true magic'?" Arthur asked, his tone edged with curiosity.

Morgan tilted his head, thoughtful. "It's hard to explain right now. If you want to understand it fully, we'll need to dig deeper—both into books and experiments. But I can tell you one thing: it's nothing like the magic we're used to."

Arthur frowned. "So, where do we start?"

"First," Morgan replied, "we'll need books. Lots of them. Specifically, histories of magic. Then, we'll need to find somewhere private to experiment."

Arthur nodded. "I'll talk to Nana. She'll know where to find the books."

Nana was in her study when Arthur approached her. She looked up from her needlework, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you're scheming something."

"Not scheming," Arthur clarified, "just studying. Do you have any books on the history of magic?"

Nana's expression softened. "I've got one. Covers the last few centuries. Magic history isn't exactly a popular topic." She paused, eyeing him carefully. "Is that enough?"

Arthur hesitated, then shook his head. "Could you contact Count Lark? See if he'd lend me some of his collection?"

Nana's lips twitched into a small smile. "You're such an oddball, Arthur. First, you're desperate to learn magic. Now, when you finally get the chance to practice it, you want to bury yourself in history books?"

"It's all connected," Arthur replied quickly. "To understand where we are now, I need to understand the past. Please, Nana."

She sighed, setting down her work. "Fine. I'll reach out to Lark. Just don't come crying to me when you're overwhelmed with dusty old tomes."

Later, Arthur and Morgan pored over Nana's book in the study. The text detailed historical turning points and lore, particularly focusing on the lives of influential mages.

As Arthur read, patterns began to emerge. Many great Magi—once considered mediocre—experienced sudden, unexplainable surges in power during their thirties or forties. The book offered various theories: divine intervention, mystical artifacts, or secret pacts with ancient beings. None seemed convincing.

Morgan leaned over his shoulder. "Could this be connected to what I'm trying to figure out? Maybe their breakthroughs weren't luck, but an understanding of what I'd call 'true magic.'"

Arthur turned the page. It described battles where low-ranking mages died in droves. Morgan's eyes narrowed as he scanned the text. "There's something here," he muttered.

By lunchtime, Arthur's mind was a whirl of questions. As they ate with his family, his unease bubbled to the surface. "How many secrets do I need to keep to protect everyone?" he thought.

Morgan's voice broke into his reverie. "Let's head to the woods after this. We need to test something."

Deep in the Trawn woods, Arthur and Morgan found a secluded glade.

Morgan handed Arthur a simple grimoire. "We're going to try a tier-one spell. Something basic to compare with the magic you already know."

Arthur studied the instructions for "Piercing Ice," a spell that conjured an ice shard. He grimaced. "This is supposed to be simple? The hand signs alone are ridiculous."

"Stop complaining and try," Morgan said dryly.

Arthur's first attempt produced a lopsided icicle that collapsed after a few feet. The second turned into a boomerang, nearly hitting him in the face. Frustration mounted as he struggled with the spell's nuances—the precise hand signs, the correct pronunciation of the magic words.

After hours of effort, Arthur finally succeeded. A shard of ice shot forward, impaling a tree.

Morgan clapped slowly. "Now, cast one of your own spells. Something you're familiar with."

Arthur sighed, raising his hand. "Jorun!" A sleek, sharp ice spear materialized and hurtled into the same tree with force.

Morgan grinned. "Feel the difference?"

Arthur frowned. "Not really."

"Think about how you cast your spell," Morgan pressed. "Walk me through it."

Arthur shrugged. "I visualize the effect, shape the mana in my core, and project it outward. Then I mix it with world energy to give it form."

"Now do Piercing Ice again," Morgan instructed. "But this time, pay attention to how your mana flows."

Arthur obeyed, casting the spell slowly. His eyes widened. "What the…? The spell pulls mana out of me automatically. The gestures and words seem to control how the mana interacts with the world energy, but I'm just a conduit."

Morgan nodded. "Exactly. Fake magic relies on external crutches—hand signs, incantations. It's rigid. You're just following a script."

Arthur tried altering Piercing Ice, making the shard larger or faster. Each attempt failed. "It's locked in. I can't adjust anything after it starts."

"And that," Morgan said, "is why I call it fake magic. True magic is flexible. It's not bound by gestures or words. It's all you—your intent, your control, your imagination."

Arthur stared at Morgan, realization dawning. "Then why does everyone use fake magic?"

Morgan hesitated. "Because it's easy to teach. Safe to control. True magic takes years to master, and not everyone has the aptitude."

Arthur's brow furrowed. "Or maybe it's because those in power don't want everyone accessing true magic. Too dangerous to let it spread."

Morgan's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Now you're thinking. Let's keep experimenting. The more we understand true magic, the closer we'll get to the truth."