The book was divided into three parts: Introduction, Meditation, and Central Spell. Right from the first pages, I realized that this was not just a manual, but a kind of survival guide for those who dared to walk the path of magic.
The Introduction explained what I needed to know to reach the level of a mage. Before I became one, there were three realms that needed to be conquered: Connection with Nature, Gathering Strength, and Merging the Three Pillars. Only after that would I be considered, in fact, a magician.
The book made it clear that having a good ancestry or a strong affinity was just the beginning—a prerequisite. The practice of magic was something completely individual, almost surgical. It was all about precision. And a warning was repeated from time to time on the pages: one should never apply something when one only vaguely understands its essence.
Each step required study. A lot of study. All the magicians were, first and foremost, scholars. And this ability to observe every detail accurately could, at certain moments, be what separated success from destruction.
The author, who wrote with a methodical and at the same time pragmatic tone, seemed to have experienced everything he described. He listed problems I might encounter in each of the realms and the most common mistakes made by beginners. The most important — and most frightening — was the warning about the magical inheritance: it could react differently depending on my mental state.
The second part of the book dealt with the method of meditation. A fundamental lesson for my progress was left there: a method divided into three stages.
The Twelve Runes of the Manifestation of Thought.
The Twelve-Pointed Star.
And the Magic Circle of Will.
This heritage carried an imposing name: the Dark Clock Meditation Technique.
When I finished reading and closed the book, in exactly the same order I had opened it, something strange happened. The words began to fade. Like ink slowly dissolving on an immense surface of crystalline water, the content of the paper disappeared... letter by letter, until there was nothing left. It took about ten seconds.
And then, new words began to appear before my eyes. Entire lines resurfaced, but the content had changed. Now, it was as if the biography I had read before was taking the place of the method.
"So that's why..." Muttered. "It cannot simply be copied. Each book... it's like I'm alive"
It took me a few minutes to reorganize my thoughts.
The first stage of the Dark Clock had made me able to sense the special forces of nature—and more than that, to approach them directly. They reacted to me based on my affinity, as if they recognized me in some way.
When I can feel and recognize this force, I will only be an apprentice in the realm of connection with nature.
Now, I need to figure out the exact ratio and what force responds to me naturally. The more precise this adjustment is, the more stable my soul fire will be.
(It was the best spent ten thousand gold coins) I thought, before I began to concentrate on the necessary steps.
The first ten steps revolved around the runes of thought manifestation. Each of these runes was made up of a single symbol, and I needed to explore and modify them based on my own circumstances. When I managed to keep twelve runes in my consciousness, even under exertion, pain, or discomfort, I would have finally completed the first step.
Going to the second stage without mastering this base would be too big a risk — it would mean instability.
I assumed a comfortable posture in bed and closed my eyes, trying to calm the soul fire lit within my consciousness. Gradually, the first rune began to take shape—something imaginary, intangible, born only of thought.
The hours passed in silence. After three long hours, I opened my eyes drowsyly.
(Eight... I can imagine eight runes out of twelve) I thought to myself.
There were still things I needed to change. I found the process interesting, although unstable. I needed to stabilize the runes until they became... Comfortable.
"I thought they would fit perfectly," I muttered to myself. "But they still have inconsistencies. Better to rest. I can think about it tomorrow."
Sleep was already heavy on my eyes.
The next morning, I woke up early and started my morning exercise routine. Building my body so far hadn't been easy—and I didn't want to see it degrade like that. After intense practice, I returned to the castle and began to prepare to go to school.
"Where is my father?" I asked as Benta helped me with the clothes, her nimble and careful hands making the process easier.
"Your father left early today, he is solving some pending issues in the territory," she replied, with a calm and almost maternal tone.
I was silent for a moment, absorbing the information. Since the duel, he has been going out a lot. I hardly see him anymore. He always seems busy with his own problems, with the weight of family and responsibilities on his shoulders.
A nagging feeling of loneliness began to grow inside me. Not because he had abandoned me, but because his attention was taken by so many other things that I was not part of.
"He's been hanging out a lot lately," I remarked, almost to myself, looking out the window at the cloudy sky.
"Yes," Benta confirmed, casting a gentle look. "Things are starting to stabilize. He now takes care of the training regime of the new cadets and is looking for capable people to train a new generation. I've never seen him so excited for these tasks that he previously avoided"
I paused, thinking about the changes I saw in my father.
"People change," he said, trying to find some hope in the tone of the conversation.
"Yes, they do" she smiled slightly, as if she understood exactly what I felt.
I smiled when I knew that my father was trying hard —it motivated me. This was my family, and I wanted to bring them pride and stability.
"What about Vera and her daughter-in-law?" I asked, realizing that the two were rarely home either.
"Both are practicing fencing," replied Benta. "The Baron has sent them to a good teacher, so that they can learn in the mornings. They are also receiving education at the Full Moon School"
I understood their situation. The twins never showed any talent in the fields in which they worked. If it weren't for the "intimate" relationship they had with me, they would have been treated as simple workers. The only reason they lived a decent life was because of me.
People followed their own paths to achieve their goals, and I needed to do the same.
Thus, a whole year passed.