"Then, at least, can you teach me some things about magic so I can live a little bit longer?"
The plea came with a humility Randia had not yet seen from her. Viena's crimson eyes remained fixed upon him, stripped of their usual stubbornness and mischief. For all her bravado, she was still a child confronting the possibility of an early death, and she looked at him now as though his answer alone might determine whether she would fall or find her footing.
Teaching her would be dangerous. Ignorance, however, was proving no less dangerous.
After a brief silence, he rose from beneath the oak tree and gathered several twigs from a low branch. While Viena watched curiously, he peeled away a section of bark and shaped it into a shallow bowl. Most of the twigs followed, reduced to ash by a small controlled flame before being mixed with water and sap. The final twig he carefully carved into a crude dip pen.
"What's that for?" Viena asked.
"One should read to keep their fear at bay," Randia replied, stirring the black mixture. "And write to make it perish."
The answer earned an awkward smile.
"U-Um... you might find this really annoying, but actually, I can't read. So, yeah, I can't write either."
Randia stopped.
"You can't read?"
"No."
"Then how did you find me?"
"I asked the innkeeper. I was willing to pay for it also, but he gave my coin back for some reason."
For a moment, Randia was unsure whether to be impressed or alarmed. Paying someone to read a note struck him as an outrageous waste of money, yet she had solved the problem immediately without allowing her limitations to stop her. A feat of quick wits that perhaps goes beyond some grown adults.
"Very well," he said at last, handing her the papers and the improvised pen. "It doesn't have to be in writing."
Returning to his seat beneath the oak, he folded his legs and settled into a posture that reminded Viena of a passed away shepherd that used to talk with himself in front of his own herd. The difference was that the elder usually looked half asleep, whereas Randia suddenly appeared even more serious than usual.
"In general, magic is divided into four categories, at least on the Seraina Continent: Green-Velda, Red-Mera, White-Alna, and Black-Yarna."
Viena immediately dipped the pen into the ash ink and began covering the paper with marks and doodles that resembled absolutely nothing.
Randia elected not to comment.
"Velda is the magic of living things. It governs physiology, growth, adaptation, healing, and countless other functions associated with life. The food you ate last night to ease your pain was created through Velda."
As he spoke, he placed a hand upon the ground.
A soft green radiance spread beneath the grass. The blades surrounding them shivered and began growing, stretching steadily upward until they stood nearly as tall as Randia himself. Within moments they found themselves enclosed within a circle of emerald stalks swaying gently in the breeze.
Viena stared in delight.
"Wow! That is so cool!"
Her pen immediately abandoned whatever notes it had been taking so she could draw the grass instead.
"While Velda manipulates living things, Mera utilizes the fundamental elements of nature as its manifestation."
The green glow faded.
A small flame appeared atop Randia's index finger. Water gathered above his thumb, rotating lazily in a perfect sphere, while a spiral of wind danced around his little finger.
"Mera is considerably more dangerous. It opens the door to countless combinations of destructive forces, making it easy to injure others—or yourself—through carelessness."
Viena only caught half of it. The flame hovering above Randia's palm had already claimed the rest of her attention.
"This is the third time I've seen that. Is it really not hot?"
"The behavior of Mera depends greatly on the caster's intent."
Randia extended his hand toward her.
"Go on. Touch it."
Viena narrowed her eyes suspiciously before reaching out with a cautious finger.
"Ooh!"
Her face brightened at once.
"How funny. It isn't hot at all. Not even warm."
"Because I don't want you to get hurt." The flame continued to sway gently above his palm. "If someone threw a Mera spell at you with harmful intent, it would be a different story."
Viena nodded and immediately returned to her paper, scratching away with intense concentration. Judging by the shapes appearing across the page, Randia suspected she was sketching the fire rather than taking notes.
"What about the other two?"
"White Magic concerns the mind, perception, consciousness, and various phenomena that border on mysticism." Randia considered his words before adding, "Personally, I think it's the most difficult discipline to master."
The answer seemed only to deepen her confusion.
"Can you show me an example?"
Randia studied her for a moment.
"I can."
Viena's grin appeared instantly.
"But I don't think you can handle it."
"Well, we'll never know unless we try, right?"
The reply came so quickly that it might have been prepared beforehand.
Randia sighed and took her hands into his own.
"Stop grinning and focus."
"Alright, alright."
"And stop tapping your toes."
"But I'm excited."
"Then be excited quietly, or we'll stop here."
Viena puffed out her cheeks and stuck out her tongue before finally settling down. A moment later she drew a slow breath, then another, trying her best to follow his instructions.
"I'll begin on three. Calm your mind as much as you can."
The wind drifted across the hilltop, stirring the grass around them.
"One."
Randia's eyes grew focused.
"Two."
Viena swallowed and held still.
"Three."
Magic flowed.
The contact lasted less than a heartbeat.
Yet the instant it happened, something foreign brushed against her consciousness and forced its way inside.
Pain exploded through her skull.
Her thoughts scattered like startled birds. The world slipped strangely out of place. The weight of her body, the feel of the ground beneath her, even the sensation of her own hands seemed distant and unfamiliar. When she tried to move, nothing answered. When she tried to speak, no sound came.
Panic rose at once.
Everything beyond Randia blurred into irrelevance.
Then she heard his voice.
Not through her ears.
Inside her mind.
"T-h-i-s... i-s... t-e-l-e-p-a-t-h-y..."
Each syllable dragged across her consciousness, distorted by a shrill ringing that seemed to vibrate through every thought she possessed.
The moment the message arrived, the connection vanished.
"Stay still," Randia said immediately. "Don't talk. Don't move."
A thin line of blood had already begun to trickle from her nose.
His expression tightened. White Magic was notoriously difficult to demonstrate safely. Even restrained to the greatest extent possible, it involved direct contact with the mind, and the mind was far more delicate than flesh.
Holding her face steady, he wiped away the blood with his thumb before uncorking his waterskin.
"Zhin ahru Nahra."
The water shimmered faintly.
"Drink. No more than two sips."
Supporting the back of her head, he carefully poured a small amount into her mouth. Fortunately, she still retained enough control to swallow.
The ringing slowly receded. Feeling returned to her limbs by painful degrees, and the crushing pressure behind her eyes gradually loosened.
Only then did she notice the trembling.
She clenched her jaw and tried to force it down.
It didn't help.
A small sob escaped.
Then another.
Tears blurred her vision before she realized they had begun to fall.
Randia remained silent.
There was little point in offering comfort now. He had warned her, and she had insisted. Some lessons resisted explanation and only revealed their weight when experienced firsthand. Pain holds memory, and what just happened, for Viena, will not be forgotten anytime soon.
Viena sat there with shaking hands, the lingering echo of another mind still scratching faintly against the edges of her thoughts.