It's… weird.
That's the best way I can describe it.
I have the mind of a child, but the knowledge of an adult. Not fully adult, not anymore. Akatosh didn't just staple my old personality onto a baby body and call it a day. When he reforged my soul with his dragon essence, it didn't just become immortal. It became young again.
A young dragon soul.
Which means my emotions, instincts, and reactions are synced to my physical age. I'm not an old man pretending to be a baby. I'm a baby who just happens to know way too much.
Honestly? Thank the Divines.
Because the alternative would've been horrifying.
Can you imagine being a full-grown adult mentally while going through puberty again? That would've been a walking ethical disaster. Akatosh clearly thought this through. No creepy age gaps. No pretending to relate to kids my age while secretly judging them like an old man yelling at clouds.
Upside: when I grow up, it won't be weird to have friends my age. I can actually enjoy childhood this time. Play games. Get into stupid arguments. Do dumb things and not immediately cringe myself into oblivion.
I won't be lonely like I was in my last life.
Downside?
I'm going to be a teenager again.
Oh gods.
The angst. The hormones. The social anxiety. The cliques. The weird dominance rituals teenagers pretend aren't happening while absolutely happening.
I can already feel it coming. That creeping emotional volatility. The sudden, irrational confidence followed by crushing self-doubt.
Part of me wonders if I should start my own clique early. Strength in numbers. Be on the offensive socially instead of reacting. Build loyalty young. Future lieutenants, maybe.
…Okay, that might be my inner Witch-King talking.
Moving on.
Since I can't exactly walk, talk, or cast spells yet, I needed something productive to do with my time.
So I started meditating.
At first, it was just because I was bored. Being a baby involves a shocking amount of lying around doing nothing. But once I realized I could see magicka in the air with the Eyes of Magnus, I started wondering.
What if I could interact with it?
Magicka is everywhere. It's like dust in sunlight, drifting through the air in invisible currents. Most people can't see it. Mages can feel it. I can watch it move.
Here's my theory.
Mages don't generate magic from nothing.
That would violate every law of energy I ever learned in my previous life.
Instead, they absorb ambient magicka and store it in their magicka pool, which exists in the soul, not the body. There's no physical organ for it. It's more like a metaphysical reservoir, an energy field anchored to the soul's structure.
And connecting that reservoir to the outside world are magical channels.
Think veins, but for magic.
This part is actually backed by Elder Scrolls lore, though it's usually vague and mystical. Seeing it directly with magic sight is… incredible. These channels run through my body and soul, linking me to the ambient magicka around me.
Now, here's where it gets interesting.
In Oblivion, magicka regeneration was tied to Willpower.
Not Intelligence. Willpower.
Which implies that recovery isn't automatic. It's active. The stronger your will, the better you are at pulling magicka back into yourself.
That means mages aren't passive batteries.
They're magnets.
So how do you go from clearing your mind to absorbing magic?
It took some trial and error, but I figured it out.
I meditate, not by emptying my thoughts completely, but by focusing my intent. I sense the magicka particles around me, then will them toward my magical channels. It's subtle. Gentle. Like coaxing rather than grabbing.
Once they enter my channels, they flow into my magicka pool.
Here's the tricky part.
My pool was already full.
So when I add more, I'm not filling it. I'm expanding it.
Like blowing air into a balloon that's already inflated.
Carefully.
Very carefully.
I don't know if a magicka pool can "pop," but I am not interested in finding out. So I add a tiny amount, let the structure stretch, stabilize, and settle. Then I do it again.
Slowly.
Painfully slowly.
But it works.
I can feel the difference. The pool is denser. Deeper. It holds more than it did yesterday. And the more I practice, the easier it becomes to draw magicka in. My will sharpens like a muscle being trained.
I also learned that the Gatekeeper Crystal seems to be passively absorbing magicka. It's just a trickle but I can tell it will make a difference to my magicka pool years down the road. It also seems to be easing the process of absorbing magicka in the same way a bicycle makes going from one place to another easier instead of walking.
But meditating brings me to another realization.
Magicka pools also probably work like muscles.
In some of the games, you increase your level by casting spells. That's exercise. You strain the pool, empty it, refill it, and over time it grows stronger.
I can't cast spells yet. No fine motor control, no voice, no gestures.
So I'm doing the next best thing: passive training.
Meditation to grow capacity.
Willpower to increase absorption rate.
Once I can cast spells, this will compound.
That said… progress is slower than I hoped.
At this rate, I won't be an archmage by the time I'm a teenager like a proper Witch-King.
Then again, I have no idea what "archmage level" actually means in real terms. I'm probably just setting arbitrary benchmarks based on game logic.
Still.
The College of Winterhold almost certainly has more efficient methods. Visualization techniques. Mana circulation exercises. Maybe even enchanted diagrams.
I want those.
Badly.
And yes, before you say it—I know.
This is starting to sound suspiciously like cultivation.
Ambient energy? Check.
Energy channels? Check.
Ancient bloodline? Check.
Meditation to increase power? Check.
I refuse.
I absolutely refuse to think of myself as a cultivator.
This is magecraft.
Western magic.
Celtic druids believed meditation allowed one to align with natural energies. Hermetic traditions focused on will and visualization. This is that. Not qi cores and breakthrough realms.
I am not shouting "YOU DARE" at people on mountain peaks. I also won't yell "Do you even know who my father is!?" When engaging in battle.
I am becoming a Witch-King.
Different vibe.
Moving on.
I'm not just working on my magic.
I'm doing baby exercises.
Which sounds ridiculous, but hear me out.
I'm a big baby. Like, seriously big. My bones are growing fast, my muscles are developing quickly, and I remember firsthand how much growing pains suck.
So I stretch.
I wiggle my arms and legs deliberately. I rotate joints. I flex and relax muscles as much as my tiny body allows. I've basically invented baby yoga.
If I don't keep things flexible now, I'm going to tear something later. And while restoration magic exists, I'd rather not rely on it for avoidable injuries.
My parents think I'm playing.
They make silly faces at me. Googly eyes. Strange noises.
And to my current, childlike emotional state?
It's hilarious.
I giggle. A lot.
Somewhere deep down, the remnants of my adult self know this is absurd. But the baby brain doesn't care. Joy is joy.
And honestly?
That's kind of nice.
So that's my life right now.
Meditating. Absorbing magicka. Stretching. Giggling at stupid faces. Listening to adults talk politics while assuming I understand nothing.
They have no idea.
I'm small. I'm helpless. I can't even hold my own head up properly yet.
But I'm growing.
Slowly.
Steadily.
And one day, when I finally stand up on my own two feet, the world is going to realize that Winterhold didn't just produce another noble heir.
It produced a terrifying Witch-King.