"Elder, what exactly is spirit magic—and how does it truly differ from mana?" Lux asked, her voice hushed, as their conversation deepened, spiraling into realms she'd only ever glimpsed in her mother's whispered tales.
The ancient tree spirit had, surprisingly, given her a name Lux could use—Bernie. A simple, almost human name, one even others called her by. Yet to Lux, despite the growing familiarity, she remained simply Elder, a title imbued with respect and a profound sense of awe.
Sipping her fragrant herbal tea, Bernie's form had now settled into that of a young—though still petite—woman. Her eyes, deep and knowing, held the wisdom of countless seasons, and the faint, intricate patterns of bark still subtly traced her skin.
"Lux, dear," she began, her voice as soft as rustling leaves, a gentle breeze carrying profound truths. She offered a soft, knowing smile, her gaze distant, as if observing time itself. "Mana is a force. A patterned energy, flowing like the relentless tides of an ocean, bound by strict, discernible laws. It is predictable, a river you can learn to navigate and, with practice, even control. But spirit energy…" She paused, her delicate fingers tapping thoughtfully on the teacup, creating a faint, rhythmic clink, "...spirit energy has something akin to will."
She set the cup down with a deliberate, soft thud.
"It's what you'd need for true, ancient rituals. For speaking with the hushed voices of the dead. It is primal. Emotional. Ritualistic. You don't command it like mana, you see—you commune with it. You invite it. You understand?"
"Simply put, love," she said, her smile broadening, radiating a quiet, ancient warmth, "mana is power you wield, a tool you sharpen and employ. Spirit is power you bargain with. Like negotiating with a fickle ghost—or a demanding god."
"One obeys," Bernie added, her voice gaining a subtle, resonant depth, "the other... remembers." Her gaze flickered, as if seeing countless echoes of the past.
"It's the sacred domain of shamans, of mediums who bridge worlds, of oracles peering into destiny, of wild mages who dance on the edge of chaos. Unlike mana, which flows from the very fabric of the world, from the stone and the soil, spirit energy flows directly from sentience. From raw, unfiltered emotion. From deep-seated memory. From the whispers of the dead. From the echoes of the divine. It is the lingering imprint of what once was, and what perhaps, will be again."
"While mana might allow you to summon elemental spirits—creatures of raw power, extensions of the world's forces," Bernie continued, her voice painting vivid pictures in Lux's mind, "spirit energy calls upon true spirit-demons, upon angels, upon the chilling chronowraiths that whisper secrets of time. It creates contracts —not just transient spells. Bonds woven between beings."
She raised a single, finely arched brow, her expression now serious, probing. You understand the distinction, child? The weight of it?
Lux nodded, her eyes wide, glistening with wonder and a newfound awe. The world, already complex, had just revealed another astonishing layer.
So, Bernie said casually, pulling a warm, crusty piece of bread from a basket and tearing into it with surprising vigor, do you want to awaken your spirit sense? To perceive these echoes, these wills?
I—can I?! Lux nearly fell out of her chair, her heart leaping in her chest, a sudden, powerful surge of unadulterated excitement.
Of course, Bernie chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. Unless you'd rather go the traditional route—a near-death experience, profound personal trauma, surviving an ancestral trial, or the usual, messy self-inflicted ritual that often goes awry.
No thank you! Lux replied quickly, emphatically, a grimace flickering across her face as she remembered her recent, all-too-real brushes with death.
"Thought so. A spirit granting it is much safer, far less... permanent, shall we say."
As Bernie reached for another slow, deliberate sip of tea, the very air within the quiet shop changed. A warm, almost magical scent filled the space, like rich caramel mingled with faintly burnt sugar, a sudden, sweet presence. And just like that—Lux saw.
Ghostlike silhouettes, shimmering with ethereal light, danced just beyond the edge of her physical vision. They pulsed, receded, and reappeared, like heat haze but infinitely more profound. Unlike mana—a wave, a force, a current—spirit energy felt... profoundly aware. It pulsed with an undeniable presence, a silent acknowledgment, a conscious will. It was like seeing the world's hidden inhabitants for the first time, a veil lifted.
Alright, careful now, Bernie warned gently, her voice now a low, serious murmur. You don't want to invite what you can't put back. Unlike mana, spirits are free beings—and some are ancient, dangerous, and hold grudges for millennia.
I have no issue being your mentor, Bernie added, her voice firm now, imbued with unshakeable authority, but you'll have to prove you're willing to learn. This is no place for dabblers or the weak of will.
Lux nodded with fierce conviction, a silent promise. Though her eyes still brimmed with a profound, almost dizzying wonder, her gaze was steady, resolute.
But before any of that, Bernie said, waving her hand dismissively, a small, elegant gesture, go finish your adventurer registration. Acquire your bronze rank. Practicalities first, profound mysteries later.
Lux stood, feeling almost weightless, as if floating, giddy with this new, astonishing sight. Iunderstand. Thank you, Elder! she said, her voice bright with genuine gratitude, a rare emotion. And with a wide, irrepressible grin and a hopeful skip in her step, she was off, a blur of renewed purpose.
Rumi, who had watched the entire exchange from her quiet corner, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips, finally spoke.
Grandmother... you are rather fond of her, aren't you?
Bernie smiled faintly, her eyes still on the closed door, a hint of something ancient and tender in their depths.
I rather am, she said, her voice soft as a sigh. Aren't I? Her gaze drifted, perhaps seeing the ghost of another dragon, long passed, in the young girl's determined stride.