Chương 18: The Form of Magic.

Lira sat on the chair in her alcove with her father's ledger open across her knees, loose papers hidden inside a hollowed-out leather cover. Five years later, the pages had begun to wear down, and the low-quality ink had started to fade. This was never meant to be a finished work to last for posterity; rather, it was a loosely structured lexicon of words that her father had been able to decode while translating a manuscript. Every page was filled with his neat handwriting, highlighting words and meaning.

She picked up the topmost pages, where glyphs were paired with sounds and meanings, and studied them again with growing focus. The first thing that jumped out at her was that there were no verbs, no tenses, no adjectives, and no words with the same root but different variations. Each glyph stood alone as a concept. Magic, she realized, was not spoken in sentences, but was built by stacking components. She narrowed her eyes as she traced one of the glyphs with her finger and murmured softly, "Coopar."

That was the one she had recognized first, being one of the earliest words written in her father's lexicon. It was etched into her mind, so naturally, when she encountered it in a spell, she knew that her father's ledger was related to the language of magic. According to the notes, it meant containment, which made sense, as the spell caused the heat to be contained inside her clothes.

"Paldina fila coopar tarasana kurur." She cast the spell as warmth enveloped her completely, contained to the immediate space next to her skin, and never radiating outward from beneath her dress. She turned the page and found the next symbol.

"Fila." Fire. She had guessed that as well, and the ledger confirmed it. The sound repeated in the three spells she had learned, and those spells all fell within the fire affinity. Her eyes moved more quickly now, scanning down the pages until they caught on another entry.

"Curad." She paused. Next to it, her father had written a single note in common script: ignition. Most of the sounds in the spells she had learned were also identifiable.

"Pika" was mind.

"Frushum" was manipulation. That meant that the second spell, Pika fila frushum, was Mind Fire Manipulation. It did make sense, although she would have never guessed that the first word would mean mind. Her gaze moved through the pages, locating the rest of the concepts and making out the third spell.

"Paldina" was passive.

"Tarasana" was pocket.

"Kurur" was space. Fitting each of them into place, the third spell meant passive, fire, containment, pocket, space. A contained fire in a pocket of space.

"That fits the description." She kept scanning through the lexicon, but sadly, she couldn't find the sound for "Candira" anywhere, meaning that her father must not have encountered it in the original manuscript he was working on. Still, she could infer from context that it probably meant candle or wick. Now that she had identified every word in the spell she learned, she wondered if she could create her own spell, something simple, another cantrip perhaps.

The first idea that came to mind was the substitution of a single concept, maybe switching fire with water. She had already passed the word for water. She turned to an older page and found it.

"Maha." Her pulse quickened slightly with anticipation. Changing the second spell made the most sense. Mind fire manipulation, to mind water manipulation.

"It should work," she muttered.

"There is no reason why it wouldn't work." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Lira shifted her position, turning toward the table where the small wash basin was beside her. She extended her hand over it, then spoke clearly and deliberately.

"Pika. Maha. Frushum." She pointed at the surface of the water and imagined the water rising upward, visualizing it clearly the same way she did with fire. Nothing happened. There was no ripple, no tremor, nor the slightest disturbance. The surface remained perfectly still. Lira blinked and held her hand there a moment longer, as if expecting a delayed reaction, but the basin did not respond. Her fingers curled slightly.

"No," she said under her breath. She frowned and tried again, more firmly this time.

"Pika. Maha. Frushum." Still nothing. The silence stretched out, heavy and unyielding. Slowly, she lowered her hand, her gaze fixed on the unmoving water. Her mind raced, retracing every step, every assumption. The words were correct. The structure was correct. The logic…

"No," she said again, quieter now.

"Something must be missing." She tried again, this time with wind instead of water.

"Riad," she said, adjusting the spell.

"Pika. Riad. Frushum." She pointed forward. Nothing. The air didn't even stir. Lira frowned, lowering her hand.

"Alright… not that." She decided to do something with the first spell. Candira fila curad. If "Candira" was candle, how about changing it to another target, like paper. A quick search through the ledger found "Asatan" to be paper.

"Asatan fila curad." She focused while holding a piece of paper. Nothing. Lira exhaled sharply. She tried again… same result. After an hour of going in circles, she let her hand fall into her lap.

"This makes no sense." The words were correct, the structure seemed right, and her logic was sound. So why did it only work with what she had already learned? She stared at the fire primer for a moment, then decided to try something else. She reached for the new primer Tessa had found.

"If I learn another spell, maybe I can figure out what I am missing…" She opened it. Unlike the fire primer, this one was calm, structured. It read more like a prayer than instructions from a madman. The text spoke of a god named Woda, a water serpent spirit said to dwell within the Palmida River west of the kingdom. It was written as a prayer, each line praising the nature of the god and the grace of its movement.

"O Woda, serpent of the Palmida, who coils beneath the endless current, we praise your patient strength. You who flow around all obstacles, who yield yet are never broken, who shape yourself to every vessel and still remain whole. Guide us as you guide the river, let us endure as you endure, bending but never shattering. Wash away our faults as your waters cleanse the shore, and grant us your quiet salvation, that we may follow your path and be carried, not crushed, by the tides of the world." Lira kept reading.

She did not try to force the understanding of the words. She had learned by now that meditation was key. Time flowed as she read, lost in the prayers. Until, click. The feeling settled into place. Lira's eyes opened. She looked down at the page again, sharper this time. Between the lines, almost hidden, was the incantation.

"Pika. Maha. Frushum." The same one she had already figured out. Lira stared at it.

"My logic was right…" She turned to the basin. Her hand rose again.

"Pika. Maha. Frushum." This time, the water rose as she had visualized it. A smooth column lifted from the surface, then fell back with a soft splash. Lira froze.

"That worked." She looked back at the book, then at the basin. Then it clicked. The words alone did nothing. The spell only worked after she read the prayer and got lost meditating on it, then there was the click of the spell imprinted into her soul... or maybe mind, she wasn't sure. At least that was the most plausible theory. Now she needed to find out if it was plausible to imprint new spells without the use of a primer.