The Paragon

Chapter Eleven

After mastering the art of the candle, as predicted, things seemed to fall into place. Now that my senses had adjusted to noticing magical energy, the tasks that were set out for me didn't seem nearly so impossible. The concepts were all similar. Magic wasn't nonsensical—it was almost science. It was using the world's energy around you to your advantage.

Elemental-based magic came most easily. Phoenix taught me how to conjure, control, and manipulate bigger fires, even making them move through the air. Cold was much the same as fire, in using the temperature in the air to create it, though the consistency would be dependent on a number of factors; for most anything useful, you usually also needed water. How cold you could make the moisture in the air would determine whether you'd get rock-hard ice, or simply slush.

Not that it was all simple. Understanding the concept of how to do something was easier; putting it into practice was much harder. There were rules to magic. It required immense concentration, and it often felt like I was using actual muscles in my body, not just my mind. This especially became true when we began with the art of telekinesis and levitation. As Phoenix explained, telekinesis was often limited to what someone could feasibly lift with their own hands. To move something larger, you'd usually need to work in tandem with another wizard, upon which the power would multiply and become much stronger.

"However, I've heard tales that Paragons rather supersede these sorts of rules," Phoenix added on the end of that explanation.

"Oh good," I replied. "So there really is no guideline for me then?" I felt my face twist in concentration as I attempted to keep a book floating in the air, finally letting go with a gasping inhale. The book fell to the ground unceremoniously and with a muffled thump against the stone floor. I shook my head in frustration, running my hands through my hair and gripping my scalp. "Are you sure I'm a Paragon, then?" I asked, only half-joking.

Phoenix seemed to find things like that amusing, smiling and shaking his head at them. "I'd say the rather dramatic way in which we met is what proved that," he said. "Not your current talent at telekinesis." I stared bitterly at the book that lay on the ground, not quite accepting Phoenix's assurances. "It's only been a couple weeks—even the Paragon takes time to master skills."

"What about healing magic?" I asked, shaking out my limbs and rolling my neck around. I almost felt like I could use a good dose of healing magic myself at that moment. "Casp has told me it's pretty complicated."

"It is," Phoenix said. He looked a bit apprehensive to discuss it. "And also it isn't. The main gist of healing magic is that it can only speed a normal healing process. It can knit skin back together by manipulating faster cell growth; it can speed the regeneration of blood cells to accommodate for blood loss. But, like most magic, you need to understand the problem, and take your own steps to fix it first."

"So, you couldn't fix a broken bone before setting it?" I extrapolated.

Phoenix nodded. "Exactly. The magic isn't going to move the bone for you. It can strengthen it once it's there. You understand."

"I think so," I replied. "Will you be teaching me that?"

"Unfortunately, I'm...not as gifted in healing magic as I'd like to be," he said, looking almost embarrassed at the admission. "It's not one of my strong suits."

I laughed. "Really? And here I thought you were supposed to be good at everything, Keeper Phoenix."

"It's not funny," he replied, though he didn't seem too upset. "If you're injured in the field, I'm minimally able to help you with magic. We'd have to rely on my actual first aid skills."