The Forsaken Hero

Over the next few weeks, I learned some very interesting things about chants, and magic as a whole. Perhaps most important of all was the lack of history concerning the first mages, or priests for that matter.

To begin with, Mages and priests were essentially the same thing, with a few key differences. Mages utilized their own mana and life force, drawing it forth to create runes. Priests claimed to draw mana from the Divine, but still utilized it in the same way. Greater devotion to a deity brought more available power and access to higher circle spells. Especially dedicated followers would earn special abilities or perhaps be granted magic items as a reward.

My memory of the Council of Gods wasn’t especially bright, but I remembered they mentioned something about faith. It seemed to be the source of the deities’ powers and came from mortals. So, while one could learn magic on their own with personal mana, the gods seduced mortals to rely on them, granting bribes in return. Divine Magic was easier to come by, but ultimately harder to master, as the mana fluctuated with the god’s will.

The Library in the Divine Throne boasted a more comprehensive collection than anywhere else on Enusia. Yet, no matter how old the tome or dated the scroll was, nothing talked about the first magic users. Anything that dared broach the subject treated magic as timeless, and that mortals had always understood and wielded its powers. It was clear spells had come a long way since the first records, but no hints as to the true beginning.

Through careful study, I learned that chants didn’t come around until almost a thousand years ago, when magic truly became widespread. Magic was used and taught only by rare and powerful individuals, who chose apprentices and taught them how to manipulate mana. Priests wandered the land, doing miracles and recruiting followers, but the most devout ever left their homes to learn the arts. A few bloody wars based on religious differences resulted in the formation of the centralized church, centered on a pantheon. It seemed that the Sun god’s followers won the war, placing them in their dominant position today.

Once centralized, it became apparent that learning magic was simply too time-consuming. Selena, a magical instructor, took nearly fifty years to have enough confidence to ”feel” her mana and cast chant less. Few but the long-lived elves and dwarfs ever cast more than first or second-circle spells.

To remedy this, the Pope of the time gathered a council of the greatest and wisest mages and priests. After several years of study, the first chants were created, which allowed anyone with a little experience and grasp of mana to use magic. Chants used sound to influence the mind to subconsciously direct their mana, guiding their thoughts and will to create the necessary runes.

Through reading their journals and experiences, I was able to learn something about the process used to originally create chants. It required a perfect mastery of mana, with enough capability to cast for hours. Essentially, a mage would begin with a lump of mana and then utter sounds until it began to move in a way they wanted. Through experimentation, patterns of sounds began to emerge, simplifying the process greatly. There was a bit of a language for it now, loosely recognized as ”chant.” Progress on chant language slowed in recent centuries, as most everything was done well enough, and had the time and skills to discover new sounds.

The process of modifying chants appeared to be relatively simple, as even minor adjustments in the words resulted in corresponding changes in the runes. This made the task surprisingly easy, provided one possessed the ability to perceive and understand the flow of magic and memorize countless runes. That was the major obstacle faced by most mages in the present day and made modifying spells an almost entirely extinct practice. Very few were blessed with the ability to see magic, but even spending time to learn the runes discouraged the progress of many aspiring geniuses, as it shifted their focus away from mastering their mana. As a result, they often prioritized learning new existing spells and expanding their mana capacity instead of worrying about using sub-optimized chants.

Armed with this knowledge, I began practicing chants with renewed passion, obsessing over the small intonation and details most mages overlooked. After two weeks of study and practice, I took the training field, ready for experimentation.

”Finally back?” Selena asked, looking up as the Father and I arrived.

I nodded, feeling relieved to be out in the sun again. Although I loved studying magic in the library, pouring over musty pages all day was quickly growing old. ”I did as you directed, and I think I’m ready to cast some spells.”

”Oh really! If you plan on modifying spells, it’s best that I join you. Sometimes, small changes can have devastating consequences,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

We found an unused corner of the field and sat down. Father Ithris, as was usual, dozed off in the shade of a nearby garden. He had long since stopped carrying about whatever I was up to, and simply viewed his job as babysitting.

”Now then, are you planning on working with Waterball or the Light spell from before?”

I looked and found her watching me earnestly. I was a bit surprised she remembered the light spell, but considering how rare modifying a spell was nowadays, I suppose I shouldn’t be.

”I’m thinking the Waterball. I’ve practiced it more, and Sun magic doesn’t really agree with me,” I admitted.

”Oh,” she said, sounding a bit disappointed for some reason. A flash of guilt crossed her expression, and she shook her head as though clearing away a bad thought.

”Is that alright?” I asked tentatively.

”It’s fine. Forget I said anything,” she said quickly.

Why was she so invested in what spell I chose? Maybe it had something to do with her evaluation coming up in a few weeks, or perhaps she’d been unable to replicate the light spell since. No, this is distracting. I raised my hand and forced the thoughts from my mind, placing all my concentration on the task I was about to do. First, I cast a normal Waterball spell with the chant, watching closely as the mana reacted to the words and sounds. Holding the spell in the air, I cast a chant less one, including the modifications. I took a few moments to compare them side by side and reviewed the chant in my mind.

As I continually created waterballs, I slightly altered the chant with varying degrees of success. Whenever I finished a rune, I compared it with the original and modified version, teasing them closer each time. Within an hour, I had more than fifty water balls floating in the air but had barely made any progress. The real struggle was that the number of runes in my modified version didn’t line up with the original, with nearly a five percent deficit. Some words in the chant affected the entire magic circle, while others influenced a small factor of a single rune, such as the intensity of mana flowing through it.

After another few hours, Selena yawned in boredom and wandered off. The maximum amount of mana a first-circle could contain wasn’t much to fret about, and it seemed she was mostly just curious. After a few more spells, my mana was nearly dry and I was exhausted. Letting go, I sighed as the sweet power trickled away and collapsed beside the Father. It must have awakened him, because he stood and stretched, then peered down at me.

”You finally finished? Then let’s be off.”

I stumbled to my feet after him, hurrying to catch up to his long stride. For the next few days, I spent every moment I could going over the chant and expending all my mana at the training field. Within a week of beginning the project, I was done. It was finally time to cast a perfect Waterball.