1.13 The Essence of Magic

Magic was real, and Michael held the secrets to it in his hand. Not only that, but it seemed demons were real too, and a threat to humanity. Did that mean angels were real too? What about gods? And if gods were real, why hadn't … Michael shook his head. He was veering into tangents.

He wanted to learn magic, the lore of this world should come letter. Michael decided to take all the books with him—learning magic was exciting, but he would have to learn about the unfamiliar world as well. But for now, magic it was.

Michael turned the page to chapter one. The chapter came with an epigraph. He only gave it a perfunctory glance before moving to the important details. Michael skimmed the chapter, focusing only on the lines that described what he wanted. He frowned once he finished the chapter.

The words on the page seemed straightforward, nothing of the mysticism he had expected. "Can it really be this simple?"

Michael had tried meditation before, but he had discovered none of the things described by the book. What would be so different this time? The shadow of doubt tried to pull into the dark depths of despair. What if it didn't work for him? What if he failed? He would have no way home. His hope trampled.

"No," Michael said out loud, one hand feeling at his thundering heart. "This world has changed me in many ways. So, maybe I can do this too."

Michael sat on the wooden floor in lotus position, his roasted fish left forgotten, skewered by the fire poker. The aroma of mythical arts was far more enticing than any fish. He closed his eyes and followed the instructions of the book.

Empty your thoughts, empty. Follow the rhythm of your soul.

If one had the aptitude for magic, they should be able to hear a pulsing from the centre of of their being—not heart beat—something more subtler, yet powerful.

With a steadying breath, he began to follow the instructions of the book exactly, emptying his thoughts, seeking the incomprehensible rhythm of his soul. Time seemed to lose its meaning as he delved deeper into meditation, his surroundings fading.

Yet nothing happened. Maybe the book was wrong, a sick prank on the people who had hoped for greater things. Maybe magic wasn't for him, maybe he should give up. In the end, it was nothing more than a wishful …

Abruptly, he became aware of a sensation—a subtle thrumming, not a sound but a feeling from deep within him. It was like the reflection of a heartbeat—a memory or a shadow—hiding profound meanings in its rhythm, promising a sweet taste of power to command the very laws of the world. It resonated from the core of his being.

There it was—the pulsing the book had described. It wasn't just a rhythm but a gateway, a bridge to something vast hidden deep within his soul.

A surge of elation washed over him as he realised he was touching the very essence of magic itself. He reached for it, to seize it in his hands. With that power, he could do anything, command …

The pulses rebelled as if it was a thing alive, pushing him back with a surge of power.

Michael's eyes snapped open, going wide from the relapse. His stomach churned, and his head … it thrummed like a drum.

"What … What happened?"

Michael opened the book and read the first chapter again. This time, he focused on every word instead of skimming through it. When he learned his mistake, Michael cursed himself for his stupidity. In his haste, he hadn't read the instructions properly. He should not have tried to seize the power as he did. The book had warned him against that. Instead, he should have let the pulses to guide him to his Magicore. Once he reached it, the power would have been his to command forever.

The pain and the nausea subsided in mere seconds. It was as if he had imagined the pain.

Michael stood up. He had failed to reach the core of his magic, but one thing was certain—he had the aptitude for it. Now that he knew he could learn, Michael wanted to know everything, learn everything magic had to offer. Who wouldn't? It was the dream of every child, most of them anyway.

Michel opened his mouth to shout in jubilation, but a sound made him pause. He looked up. "What was that?"

Was he not alone? He hadn't checked, had he? What if the farm wasn't abandoned completely and someone still lived here. Wouldn't that make him a trespasser and a thief?

The noise came again, louder this time. That sound … it was like someone or something was crashing against the wall. It was coming from above. A chill ran down Michael's spine and his heart beat rose into a crescendo.

With each passing moment, the unsettling sounds continued, intensifying his unease. Michael debated his next move. Should he runaway?

This eyes moved to all the supplies he had collected. No, he could not abandon his precious supplies. They were his lifeline. Even if he took all the supplies with him, he wouldn't be able to outrun the source of the sound with such a load if it followed him.

If Michael never took any risks, he thought that would be the greatest risk to his survival. I've got to do this. Maybe it's just a cat.

Michael doubted it.

If it wasn't hostile, perhaps Michael could reason with it. If not, he would run like there was no tomorrow. Michael tucked the book of magic inside the large pockets of his baggy trouser. He didn't intend to abandon the book if it came to that. It was too valuable.

Grabbing an oil lamp from the pile of his supplies, Michael lit it up. He reached the dark staircase, lit only by his lamp. Michael gulped. He felt as if he was stepping into the maw of an enormous beast.

"Why am I doing this again? This is the stupidest thing I've ever done. Shouldn't I be waking away from the sound?"

Michael ascended.

The stair creaked under his foot, reverberating through the house. He winced. If that didn't alert the thing upstairs, nothing would.

"Hello," Michael called, now that he lad lost his element of surprise. "Is anyone up there."

No answer came.

"Alright then. I'm not dangerous. If I have offended you, I'll do everything in may power resolve the situation."

Again, no answer. Michael continued his ascent, the lamp rattling in his hand. Michael didn't tremble thank you very much. He was no coward—it was just the stupid lamp.

Once at the top of the staircase, Michael hesitated. The crashing sounds had ceased, replaced by something akin to scurrying. He scanned the dimly lit corridor—there were only two room. Michael tried the first room. It was locked from the inside. The implication of it didn't cross Michael's mind he was far too terrified for logic.

The second door was barred from the outside, and the scurrying sound was coming from in there. Was someone trapped inside. Just as the Michael reached for the door bar the light of the lamp winked out. That wasn't ominous at all.

"Its like I am living through a horror movie."

Michael waited for his heart to calm down. At least it wasn't completely dark. He could still see, though barely. Taking a deep breath, Michael opened the door.

Michael lurched back as something dark with glowing eyes jumped at him. It wasn't friendly, after all. He scolded himself for making a classic horror movie mistake.