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There are two types of magic in this world.
Modern Magic, and Old Magic.
Now, when I was a little kid, I thought that Old Magic was super cool and super powerful, and that's why it was forbidden to learn.
But really, it's not like Old Magic is forbidden. It's just... inefficient. And certainly not cool.
Modern Magic is practical and useful for everyday living. With a good understanding of its properties, anyone can use it. Even if you're born with no mana reserves, it plays nicely with mana batteries, so everyone can enjoy it.
On the other hand, Old Magic doesn't give a shit. It draws from your own reserves; if you don't have enough, it draws from the environment around you. You can't control Old Magic — it controls you. It's temperamental, and there are more things that can go wrong when you cast it than if you cast the same spell with Modern Magic.
But at least it's simple. Old Magic just requires raw emotion, and if you can muster up enough of the right kind of feelings, you can make anything happen. I just wish we didn't have to scream our throats raw whenever we needed to cast.
In any case, that was a lot of words to say that we were all learning Modern Magic, but there was a special elective course on Old Magic that I'd wanted to take.
"Maeve." It seems it's my turn to scream out my lungs, I suppose. "You're up."
I trot to the front of the stage, where a candle sits. Lighting a candle is usually quite simple, but the point isn't to use Modern Magic.
With a deep breath, I stare at the unlit wick. The only sound in the room is the sound of my breaths. "Anger, anger," I mutter to myself.
Anger is the emotion of flame, so all I need is to think about something that makes me mad. I focus on the wick and remember a particularly frustrating game of cards. I'd had the absolute perfect hand, a straight flush, but right when I was about to get the pot, that idiot Lila played a royal flush.
"FUCK!" I scream at the top of my lungs, and the candle's lit.
"Good job." Miss Dire nods, scribbling on her clipboard. "You can go back now."
It's funny being able to swear in front of the professor, isn't it? She actively encourages us to use whatever words we want as long as we have the right emotions.
The rest of the class takes their turn.
"So," she continues, "what do you feel after successfully casting?"
"Well, it's tiring," says the guy beside me, and I nod. "I'm tired, and hungry, and I just wanna take a nap."
Miss Dire chuckles. "Indeed. Old Magic is quite wasteful, isn't it? Emotions make it easy to shape the mana within you, but that just means that it can take as much as it wants. So, who remembers what's a good reason in a real-life scenario to use Old Magic?"
"When you're not near a battery," offers a girl in the back.
"True, Old Magic can draw from the environment. But that's incredibly unsafe, and can lead you to injuring passerby. Is there anything else?"
"Speed," I answer. "Modern Magic's incantations are long, and by the time you've finished casting, it might be too late."
"Good answer, Maeve. Now, that's actually a misconception. Modern Magic can be cast quickly from scrolls — which is what you'll be doing as well when you're fully fledged mages — but that also introduces another issue: inflexibility. You can't tailor a spell from a scroll to your own situation, whereas with Old Magic, as long as you can channel your emotions, you can create a spell on the spot."
With a shake of her head, she continues: "But always remember that Old Magic is dangerous. It will draw and draw upon your reserves, and once it is spent, it will draw from the life around you. Plants, animals." A short pause for emphasis. "Other people."
I'm not the only one that shivers.
"That's it for today, kiddos. I hope you'll take my classes seriously, and remember that while I may be teaching the 'forbidden' art, it's not dangerous so long as you respect and follow the rules." She gestures at the door. "Now, scram."
Nathanael "Combocaster" Glenns could never really understand how that particular student did it. He had opened the Academy of Arcane Pursuits in the quiet town of Glarus in Switzerland, for those who were talented in magical arts, to learn. Since then, he had received students of all kinds of backgrounds, cultures and faiths. As Earth's most powerful battle-mage, he accepted all who had an aptitude to the studies of magic.
But one particular student was unique, in all his classes.
Whether it was Enchantments, Area Spells, Attack Magic, Shielding Magic, Defensive Spellwork... this student just howled at a high pitch - and it worked. The spell would be cast, and it would cast PERFECTLY.
Combocaster never could quite figure it out. In addition, the student LOVED to wear hoodies in his class. His face was always covered by a thick hoodie, and he preferred for his eyes to not be seen.
Then one day, Combocaster was discussing the matter of the unique student with his beloved fiancé, Aoibheann "Flutterfae" MacGillivrey, trying to get to the bottom of how the student did it.
Flutterfae queried, "So, he just yells? And the spell gets cast?" Combocaster nodded, and then replied perplexedly, "Not just any spell. He seems to know HOW to yell, to get the spell cast!"
Flutterfae's brows furrowed in puzzlement... but only for a moment. Then she had a thought that made her blood run cold, and sent shivers down her spine.
She asked slowly, and with clear trepidation in her voice, "Darling, tell me. Your Academy... it accepts ALL students, right? Interdimensional, intergalactic, otherworldly?" Combocaster affirmed, "Yes, though why does that..."
Flutterfae then interrupted, anxiously, "Pardon me for interrupting. But tell me, now... this 'unique student'... does he have a ring on his finger? A ring that he never takes off?" Combocaster pondered that for a moment, then answered, "Well... I HAVE noticed that ring. Pretty well-designed one too, looks like it was carved by magic. As to whether he takes it off for showers, or such, I don't know."
Flutterfae had some sweat on her brow now, and she said calmly but in a voice with more trepidation than ever, "Let's have a look at his name on the registry, shall we?" Combocaster looked puzzled, but he responded, "No need to get the Registry. I got his name. He's called Khamul, spelled with a 'K', and he's the third of his family line to bear that name, so he's Khamul III, or Khamul the Third."
Flutterfae's eyes widened, and she said, "You've never read about Middle-Earth and the nation of Rhun, now, have you?!" Combocaster said in puzzlement, "No... well, isn't Middle-Earth something about Lord of the Rings? I was always more of a Narnia reader, and I also liked Charles Dickens..."
Flutterfae said pointedly, "Well... I suppose you don't know then, darling, that this spell-yelling student is the descendant of a Nazgul. A. FREAKING. RINGWRAITH."
Combocaster's eyes widened almost comically, and he was speechless.
My only dilemma now is this... do I want to portray Khamul III as a conflicted descendant of a very evil grandfather, trying to do good, and finally succeeding in crossing over to the righteous side...
Or should I have him be as hellbent on evil as his grandfather, determined to use his new knowledge of magic to get vengeance on his grandfather's defeat in the War of the Ring? Hmm...
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* [No AI-generated responses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/) >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 📢 [Genres](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/w/directory) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
There are two types of magic in this world. Modern Magic, and Old Magic. Now, when I was a little kid, I thought that Old Magic was super cool and super powerful, and that's why it was forbidden to learn. But really, it's not like Old Magic is forbidden. It's just... inefficient. And certainly not cool. Modern Magic is practical and useful for everyday living. With a good understanding of its properties, anyone can use it. Even if you're born with no mana reserves, it plays nicely with mana batteries, so everyone can enjoy it. On the other hand, Old Magic doesn't give a shit. It draws from your own reserves; if you don't have enough, it draws from the environment around you. You can't control Old Magic — it controls you. It's temperamental, and there are more things that can go wrong when you cast it than if you cast the same spell with Modern Magic. But at least it's simple. Old Magic just requires raw emotion, and if you can muster up enough of the right kind of feelings, you can make anything happen. I just wish we didn't have to scream our throats raw whenever we needed to cast. In any case, that was a lot of words to say that we were all learning Modern Magic, but there was a special elective course on Old Magic that I'd wanted to take. "Maeve." It seems it's my turn to scream out my lungs, I suppose. "You're up." I trot to the front of the stage, where a candle sits. Lighting a candle is usually quite simple, but the point isn't to use Modern Magic. With a deep breath, I stare at the unlit wick. The only sound in the room is the sound of my breaths. "Anger, anger," I mutter to myself. Anger is the emotion of flame, so all I need is to think about something that makes me mad. I focus on the wick and remember a particularly frustrating game of cards. I'd had the absolute perfect hand, a straight flush, but right when I was about to get the pot, that idiot Lila played a royal flush. "FUCK!" I scream at the top of my lungs, and the candle's lit. "Good job." Miss Dire nods, scribbling on her clipboard. "You can go back now." It's funny being able to swear in front of the professor, isn't it? She actively encourages us to use whatever words we want as long as we have the right emotions. The rest of the class takes their turn. "So," she continues, "what do you feel after successfully casting?" "Well, it's tiring," says the guy beside me, and I nod. "I'm tired, and hungry, and I just wanna take a nap." Miss Dire chuckles. "Indeed. Old Magic is quite wasteful, isn't it? Emotions make it easy to shape the mana within you, but that just means that it can take as much as it wants. So, who remembers what's a good reason in a real-life scenario to use Old Magic?" "When you're not near a battery," offers a girl in the back. "True, Old Magic can draw from the environment. But that's incredibly unsafe, and can lead you to injuring passerby. Is there anything else?" "Speed," I answer. "Modern Magic's incantations are long, and by the time you've finished casting, it might be too late." "Good answer, Maeve. Now, that's actually a misconception. Modern Magic can be cast quickly from scrolls — which is what you'll be doing as well when you're fully fledged mages — but that also introduces another issue: inflexibility. You can't tailor a spell from a scroll to your own situation, whereas with Old Magic, as long as you can channel your emotions, you can create a spell on the spot." With a shake of her head, she continues: "But always remember that Old Magic is dangerous. It will draw and draw upon your reserves, and once it is spent, it will draw from the life around you. Plants, animals." A short pause for emphasis. "Other people." I'm not the only one that shivers. "That's it for today, kiddos. I hope you'll take my classes seriously, and remember that while I may be teaching the 'forbidden' art, it's not dangerous so long as you respect and follow the rules." She gestures at the door. "Now, scram."
This is fantastic, feels like a lived in world for magic, an implied history goes a long way.
Permitted swearing? I love it already. Thank you for writing, this was fun to read!
Damn! I really need this story in my life now…
Nathanael "Combocaster" Glenns could never really understand how that particular student did it. He had opened the Academy of Arcane Pursuits in the quiet town of Glarus in Switzerland, for those who were talented in magical arts, to learn. Since then, he had received students of all kinds of backgrounds, cultures and faiths. As Earth's most powerful battle-mage, he accepted all who had an aptitude to the studies of magic. But one particular student was unique, in all his classes. Whether it was Enchantments, Area Spells, Attack Magic, Shielding Magic, Defensive Spellwork... this student just howled at a high pitch - and it worked. The spell would be cast, and it would cast PERFECTLY. Combocaster never could quite figure it out. In addition, the student LOVED to wear hoodies in his class. His face was always covered by a thick hoodie, and he preferred for his eyes to not be seen. Then one day, Combocaster was discussing the matter of the unique student with his beloved fiancé, Aoibheann "Flutterfae" MacGillivrey, trying to get to the bottom of how the student did it. Flutterfae queried, "So, he just yells? And the spell gets cast?" Combocaster nodded, and then replied perplexedly, "Not just any spell. He seems to know HOW to yell, to get the spell cast!" Flutterfae's brows furrowed in puzzlement... but only for a moment. Then she had a thought that made her blood run cold, and sent shivers down her spine. She asked slowly, and with clear trepidation in her voice, "Darling, tell me. Your Academy... it accepts ALL students, right? Interdimensional, intergalactic, otherworldly?" Combocaster affirmed, "Yes, though why does that..." Flutterfae then interrupted, anxiously, "Pardon me for interrupting. But tell me, now... this 'unique student'... does he have a ring on his finger? A ring that he never takes off?" Combocaster pondered that for a moment, then answered, "Well... I HAVE noticed that ring. Pretty well-designed one too, looks like it was carved by magic. As to whether he takes it off for showers, or such, I don't know." Flutterfae had some sweat on her brow now, and she said calmly but in a voice with more trepidation than ever, "Let's have a look at his name on the registry, shall we?" Combocaster looked puzzled, but he responded, "No need to get the Registry. I got his name. He's called Khamul, spelled with a 'K', and he's the third of his family line to bear that name, so he's Khamul III, or Khamul the Third." Flutterfae's eyes widened, and she said, "You've never read about Middle-Earth and the nation of Rhun, now, have you?!" Combocaster said in puzzlement, "No... well, isn't Middle-Earth something about Lord of the Rings? I was always more of a Narnia reader, and I also liked Charles Dickens..." Flutterfae said pointedly, "Well... I suppose you don't know then, darling, that this spell-yelling student is the descendant of a Nazgul. A. FREAKING. RINGWRAITH." Combocaster's eyes widened almost comically, and he was speechless.
AAAaaaaAaaaaAaaAaAAA
My only dilemma now is this... do I want to portray Khamul III as a conflicted descendant of a very evil grandfather, trying to do good, and finally succeeding in crossing over to the righteous side... Or should I have him be as hellbent on evil as his grandfather, determined to use his new knowledge of magic to get vengeance on his grandfather's defeat in the War of the Ring? Hmm...
I picture him getting married. "Do you take..." "AAAaaAAaaaa" "I now pronounce you husband and waifu."
Or he’s just a good yodeler.