Magic

“Have a seat and put your learning cap on,” Morgan said.

“I don’t have anything to take notes with.”

“Good!  That means you’ll just have to remember what I say.  Now, how familiar are you with spell casting?” Morgan asked, pacing back and forth as I sat on the ground.

“The Seventh Sons taught me that there are two basic types I will encounter.  The first is spell weaving, where you imagine what you want to happen, focus magic to the tips of you fingers and follow a sort of tracing that appears on the fabric of reality.  Once it’s imbued with magic, whatever you wanted happens.”

“Excellent.  There are some restrictions to that power.  Are you aware of them?”

“Well, it loosely coincides with the laws of physics.  If you wanted something to appear from nothing, it would take the magical equivalent of energy to form matter.  That makes it all but impossible to conjure something from nothing.”

“Good,” Morgan said.  “And going on from that point, are you able to stop a spell once it’s been cast?”

“I would assume no.”

“That is partly true.  It all depends on how you design the spell.  If you design a spell to lift something up into the air, the spell will lift the object and continue to drain your magical reserves until you run out.  Instead, you could design a spell to lift something into the air for thirty seconds or for as long as you will it.  That allows you to stop the spell before you run out.  Under normal circumstances,  this woudn’t be much of an issue for a magic user.  For you, this means the difference between life and death.”

I focused hard on remembering what she just said.  I hoped to God I wouldn’t forget to do this.

“Now, before you forget what I just said, let us practice.”

“Right now!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, right now.  Up on your feet, let’s get to it.”

I shuddered as my gut filled with anxiety.  I had never woven a spell before, much less woven a spell with my life on the line.

“Now, I want you to pick up this rock for thirty seconds,” she said, placing a rock at my feet.

“But I was completely out of magic this morning,” I said.  As I thought about the past night and day, I felt the exhaustion nipping away at my ability to focus.

Morgan laughed.  “And you’re possessed by a ghost!  Check your magic reserves.”

“How do I do that?” I asked.

“Close your eyes and focus on the gate within your heart.  You should be able to feel your magic capacity.  You won’t be able to tell the actual amount you have in terms of absolute quantity, but you’ll be able to tell how much you have relative to your total capacity to hold magic.”

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes and focusing on the gate in my heart.  As I did, I felt a strange sensation.  It felt like a cup brimbing with a bubbling liquid.  “Woah,” I muttered.  “I think I feel it.”

“And?”

“It’s like a cup full of a bubbling liquid,” I said, repeating my thought.

“Good.  Now, try to lift the stone.”

“But what if I run out of magic?” I asked, not feeling confident in my magical casting ability.

“You won’t.  But if you are concerned, simply design the spell with that condition in mind.”

“And how to I design the spell?”

“Open up your reservoir of magic and imagine what you want to happen.”

I did as she said, feeling my body flood with magic.  I wanted the rock to pick the rock up for as long as I wanted.  As I imagined this, a strange pattern appeared before my eyes.  Zigzagging lines going to and fro, up and down, in and out, and something else I couldn’t quite comprehend.  That said, I felt myself almost unconsciously focusing magic to my fingers and tracing the pattern.  I felt as if I were weaving a grand tapestry. 

Before I knew it, I was done and the pattern glowed a bright golden color.  The rock began to levitate off the ground, and I felt the slow draining of my magic reserves.  At first I was scared, but I quickly regained my composure.  My magic was draining incredibly slowly.  I counted out thirty seconds, and cut off the spell.  The rock tumbled to the ground.

“That was thirty two seconds,” Morgan said.  “You’re counting is a bit off, but you understand the gist of spell weaving.  Now, you had said there were two types of ways to cast spells?”

“Yeah.  The first is spell weaving, and the second is by using a grimoire.”

“Explain to me what a grimoire is.”

“Well, a grimoire is essentially a book that you keep spells in.  You program the spells you weave to respond to a specific command, like a phrase or gesture.”

“Where does the griomiore come into play then?  Why not just cast a spell and have it be tied to a hand gesture?”

“Because the fabric of reality is ever flowing and ever changing.  It would be like putting pool noodles in the middle of the ocean in a specific manner and expecting them to stay together.  You can do it, but it requires constant maintenance.  Whereas if you got a boat and put the pool noodles in a specific arrangement on it, then you wouldn’t have to worry about them drifting.”

“Unless there was a storm,” I quipped.

“This is an analogy, but yes.  A grimoire can be destroyed.”

“And the Resurrection Men don’t like other magical creatures using a grimoire because it allows for quick and repeated use of the same spell?”

“Or consecutive use of a lot of different spells, but yes.”

“Are there ways to get around that?”

“In your case, you don’t have to worry about a thing.  They haven’t installed a trace on you, so you can use one as you see fit.  On the other hand, I have some issues but where there’s a will there’s a way.  It’s like outlawing drugs.  Sure it’s harder to get your crack, but there’s always bath salts or whipped cream bottles.”

“Jesus Morgan.”

“Shut it, I’m enjoying my analogies today.  Anyway, grimoires are extremely useful, especially when you want to exactly reproduce the spell another magic user created.  However, there are alternatives to grimoires that the Resurrection Men or other Supernatural creatures simply aren’t aware of.”

“Like?”

“Runes.  The runes on these trees are a great example.”

“So only the Immortals and the Boogyman know about them?”

“Right.”

“So then an Immortal or the Boogyman put these runes here.”

“Yes.”

“What the hell do they mean and why aren’t you concerned?”

“Oh don’t worry.  They are just a warding spell to keep out Vampires.  There haven’t been Vampires in North America since the eighteen hundreds.  The Seventh Sons cleaned them out thoroughly.  These runes were probably placed here by an Immortal way back when.”

“Okay,” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief.