The heavy doors of the throne room slammed shut behind us with a resonating thud, leaving Aeris and I alone in the grand hallway. The Fey palace shimmered as rays of sunlight filled the hallway. My mind, however, was too preoccupied to appreciate the beauty.


    Aeris was practically bouncing beside me in excitement. “I can’t believe it! We’re actually going on an adventure!” She was spinning in circles, her silver hair glittering in the ambient light. “Oh Caden, thank you. Really, this means more to me than you’ll ever know!”


    I forced a smile, but inside, I was panicking with uncertainty. This wasn’t a game and I definitely wasn’t ready. I didn’t even know how to cast a spell, but here I was, thrust into a role where they expected me to go on an adventure. I couldn’t even defend myself, I felt like I had just conned my way into the opportunity of a lifetime. The Queen’s trust felt misplaced, I felt misplaced.


    And what if something happened to Aeris while we were away? I couldn’t protect her, if anything she would be the one protecting me.


    “Yeah,” I mumbled. “We’ll see how it goes.”


    Aeris stopped, looking at me with concern. “You’re nervous.”


    “Of course I’m nervous.” I chuckled in response.


    She placed a hand on my shoulder again. “We’ll figure it out together, you’re not alone in this.”


    I nodded, though it did little to ease the weight of the situation. “I need to study. Lady Valha gave me access to the spell library - she said I should start with the foundation book on magic. I need to-”


    “You need to breathe,” Aeris interrupted, still looking concerned. “But fine, if it will make you feel better. Go start your studying, I want to go tell my parents. So I’ll come find you later.”


    With that, she took off, struggling to contain her excitement. I couldn’t help but wish I had her confidence. After a moment of standing there, I looked around - realising I had no idea where the spell library was.


    I wandered down the hallway, wishing I had a fraction of Aeris’ excitement. But I couldn’t help but feel dreadfully underprepared for the unknown. I paused to ask one of the guards for directions and headed towards the spell library located within the east wing of the palace.


    By the time I got there I was exhausted, I hadn’t realised just how vast the palace was. I must have spent at least an hour wandering around trying to find my way. Stopping occasionally to ask for directions to make sure I was heading the right way. But eventually I found it, held behind large oak doors that were protected by various sigils - the spell library of the Autumn Court.


    I pushed open the doors to find a library far larger than I had anticipated, towering bookshelves that appeared to stretch endlessly, each filled with ancient tomes and scrolls bound in unfamiliar materials. Soft blue wisps of light floated lazily through the air, illuminating the reading alcoves.


    After searching through the maze of bookshelves I eventually found what I was looking for, the book Lady Valha had recommended - Foundations of the Arcane. It was a fairly thick tome, bound in something not dissimilar to leather. The pages themselves were thick and smelled of old parchment, the text was written in a flowing script that I swore shifted slightly as I read, adjusting to the reader''s understanding.


    I retreated to an alcove to read, settling into the comfy nook on a sofa.


    Magic, as it turned out, wasn’t just about waving a staff and chanting incantations. It was an intricate dance of intent, control and connection. The book explained mana to be a force woven into all things, like invisible threads that built up the world around us. All living things generated their own mana, it provided thought and gave our bodies energy to breathe. Spells were, by their very nature, structured disruptions in the natural flow of mana, shapes through incantations, gestures, and will.


    Even the most basic spells relied on formulas - specific finger movements and will to force mana into a predetermined form. More advanced magic allowed for improvisation, controlling mana with less structure that relied more on one’s will.


    It made sense, at least in theory. I was eager to try casting my first spell.


    I decided to start with the simplest spell in the book: Levitation. According to the text, it was one of the first spells taught to aspiring mages as it required a fundamental understanding of how to direct mana externally to interact with the world.


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    The instructions were meticulous - first, you need to center your mind and focus on your mana core, the center of your own energy. After that you shape the spell with a practiced series of finger gestures, guiding mana along predetermined paths.


    It all seemed straightforward, at least in theory.


    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, reaching inwards trying to sense the mana within me. The book compared it to a circuit, a current that ran through your body that flowed, waiting to be commanded.


    I continued to search internally, recalling the feeling when I awakened in the forest and felt the power thrumming from my chest. I could feel my frustrations building, searching frantically for this immense amount of mana my body apparently held.


    I breathed.


    I hadn’t realised I had been holding my breath, then I thought about when I touched the crystal. The swirling energy that reacted to my heartbeat and my breathing. I controlled my breathing, taking slow and deliberate breaths.


    There it is.


    It started as a flutter in my chest, if I focused on it I could follow it down into my stomach where it then flowed through my body, moving through my right arm, down my side, down my other leg and then up my left side and through my right arm, before coming back to my core.


    The book was right, it felt like a river with a subtle flow waiting for instruction.


    I opened my eyes, lifting a hand toward a feathered quill on the small table in the alcove. Carefully, I copied the finger gestures, a melodic dance that flowed smoothly as if knitting the mana around my hand. I whispered the incantation in the Fey tongue. Though the syllables felt foreign, they were spelled phonetically in the book which helped, I followed the spell to the letter.


    But nothing happened.


    I grimaced. Maybe the gesturing was wrong? I tried again, this time slower, ensuring every movement was deliberate and precise. Still nothing. Again. And again. Time began to pass by. I could feel something, a faint stirring, but the spell refused to take shape.


    I didn’t have time for this. Frustration gnawed at me.


    I slammed the book shut, irritated with myself just as a soft voice spoke behind me. “Struggling, are we?”


    I turned to see a woman standing near my alcove. She wore an autumnal robe with golden embroidery, her dark green eyes glinting with amusement. I recognised her as one of the librarians, they all wore the same robes when I had entered the library, though I hadn’t caught her name.


    “A little,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “I can feel something, but I just can’t get it to work.”


    She gave a knowing smile and stepped closer. “That’s because magic isn’t about following instructions like a recipe. The gestures and incantations are tools, not the essence of magic itself.”


    I frowned. “The book makes it sound like a strict formula.”


    “That’s because they make it easier for structured learning,” she explained. “But in truth, magic is about communication. You’re not just forcing mana to take a certain shape - you’re instructing your own mana to interact with the world around you. Until you understand that, spellcasting will always feel forced.”


    I absorbed her words carefully, she spoke with a gentle wisdom that helped comfort my failure. I thought back to the forest, when I had first awakened my mana, there had been no incantations or complex gestures - just raw emotion, an instinctive push against reality. Maybe that’s what I was missing now.


    The librarian nodded to the quill. “Try again. But this time, don’t think about it like following a routine. Focus on what you want to happen instead. Feel your mana flow and connect with the quill, try and touch it with your mana.”


    I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, pushing away my frustration. Instead of focusing on what my fingers were doing, I focused on the feeling - on the way my mana weaved around my fingers and warmed the surface of my skin. I reached out, not with my hand but with my mind, willing my mana to become my hand.


    For the first time, I felt my mana surging with life. Leaving me like a breath exhaled. My fingers tingled as my mana extended outward, brushing against the quill. I didn’t need to open my eyes, I could feel the quill trembling, rattling against the table before it rose in the air.


    I opened my eyes to see the quill floating helplessly in the air, I gasped which wavered my concentration for a fraction of a second. The quill immediately dropped back onto the table with a soft clatter.


    The librarian let out a chuckle. “There you go.”


    Before I could turn to thank her she had wandered off down an aisle of bookshelves. My heart was pounding with excitement. It had worked - not for long, but it had worked. I wasn’t a fraud. I could actually do this.


    I returned my focus to the quill. This time I wouldn’t let myself get distracted. I wanted to refine my control, understand the limits of what was possible to make the spell truly mine.


    For the first time since stepping into this world, I felt like I had finally taken a real step forward.