Staring down the blacktop road, I felt like it went on for miles. I knew that wasn’t the case. In fact, this entire stretch of road was less than a quarter mile long, separating the city’s only zoo and the fairgrounds. It twisted and curved, passing the soccer field and served as the only road that lead into the schools three main parking lots, before joining the main road on the east side of the property. I felt nauseous. But not from the heat. I’d just served as witness to something I never imagined I’d see. It happened at the exact moment I saw the school security vehicle take off in a hurry. My heart lunged, fearing I’d been discovered. I waited to see that white car with blue lettering headed my way, the way of my unexpected encounter, but it sped off the other direction. For a moment I believed I’d failed in my focus. And seeing what I saw, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had.
Magic is a precise exercise of disorganized energies. You have to keep your composure, while constantly channeling your will. Otherwise, it falls apart. At least that’s how mine works. There are others which have their own methods of use. But the core rules are all basically the same. And when a universal rule is broken in front of you, it makes you question everything.
The gift is extremely rare. But when you’re a part of it, you can find it everywhere. It’s kind of like saving months of allowance to buy a specific, and expensive bicycle. Only once you buy it, you start to notice that everyone has the exact same bike. But real magic isn’t like the kind you see in movies. That type exists too, but the price is far greater than I’ve ever been willing to pay. Magicians, sorcerers, witches, whatever title we choose to go by, or arts we find ourselves drawn to, all of it is regulated by cosmic rules. None of us are above them, and those who try to bypass often find themselves tethered into a contract they’ll never escape.
Take something so simple as a fireball. It’s one of the most common and most overused weapons in any mage’s arsenal. At least on tv anyway. In reality, there’s hardly ever a need for such an ability. Though most of us are capable of producing it. On tv, the mage would do some kind of strange gesture, while drawing the energies from some varying source. Once the molten globe reaches the desired size the caster would launch it at their target, incinerating it and everything around it. That’s great for visual effect, which is probably why it’s so commonly used on screen. But in reality, visual is meaningless. Most people cannot see magic. It’s hidden from them. Casters and sensitives can see it. And the effects are nearly the same, but it can be difficult to explain how you burned three guys to death when you have nothing more than a Bic lighter. Not to mention the criminal charges that are likely to accompany such a feat.
It’s for this reason most casters choose a subtler approach. Rather than a fireball, most would choose something along the lines of an arcane blast, or even, as amusing as it sounds given all the jokes on the subject, a magic missile is just as effective, without all the collateral damage.
Had the security guard seen me, I could have easily blasted his car with a fireball and made my escape. But like I said, I’m unwilling to pay the price. That brings me back to the rules.
All of us have the ability to have our magic seen, just like in the movies. Most of us don’t need wands. A series of complex hand gestures or intricate words are rarely required, though there are exceptions depending on your area of study. There’s hardly ever a need to sprinkle faerie dust on anything, provided you could find a faery in the first place. Sprites are pretty common, faeries not so much.
Anyway, to cast magic, all it takes is a proper mindset, a little practice, and a whole lot of willpower. Once you’ve got that down, the rules come naturally. You can feel them. You know when you’re getting close to the edge. If you wanted to shoot lightning bolts out your eyes and fireballs from your ass, all you have to do is pay the price.
Muggles, as the Potter world has deemed them, are an insecure bunch. They can’t handle things they can’t explain. That’s why they’re so quick to rationalize otherworldly encounters, or strange phenomenon. Their minds are too fragile to accept that power greater than them exist in their precious little world. For that reason, their insanity is your price, should you choose to reveal your magic. It’s for that reason my kind are so tight lipped, even among our own. We can’t risk being wrong.
So when I say that I witnessed raw magic the moment I reached the soccer field, the moment that security car took off, I hope you’ll understand the severity of that encounter.
My hair stood on end. I felt a sticky residue all around me. My stomach churned on itself. And I knew, for the first time in my life, someone, less than thirty feet from me, had just torn a hole in the wall of the physical realm.
It’s unlikely they knew I was there. I was cloaking myself, all but invisible to nearly anybody looking. I would have appeared only in the corner of their eye if they weren’t searching. And as quickly, I would have been gone if they tried to find me. That was another loophole to magic. It could always be negated or bypassed by hiding in plain sight. By learning to look without looking, you can often see right through it.
I saw the back of the caster, just another school kid like me. Only he wore a leather duster that went to the underside of his knees. The distressed brown showed years of use along the worn folds, and I saw the glint of steel on his right hip. For a moment, I imagined it to be the pommel of a sword, but I had to be imagining that. Who carried a sword in broad daylight, and at school nonetheless?
As quickly as this caster came into my sight, he was gone, the tear in reality he’d created, sealed behind him.