Magic.
The word no longer felt like fantasy. It had shape now, rhythm, tone, logic.
Still, even after days of reading, I couldn't shake the awe that crept up every time I turned the pages.
Magic, this book said, wasn't just energy.
It was Resonance.
The voice of the soul itself.
The Sound Within.
Every living being carried what the old mages called a Soul Tone.
Not unlike a note in a symphony, unique, unrepeatable.
When a mage called upon mana, they were not pulling power from the world, but playing their own inner music, and the world responded to that sound.
It was a poetic idea. Too poetic to be just a theory.
The book claimed one's Soul Tone reflected the nature of their inner self, passion, calm, freedom, will, mystery, hope, impulse, or wisdom.
Eight attributes. Eight melodies.
Fire for passion.
Water for empathy.
Wind for freedom.
Earth for resolve.
Shadow for introspection.
Light for hope.
Lightning for instinct.
Aether for thought.
"Fire burns because it wants to,"
the author wrote.
"Water flows because it remembers."
I chuckled softly. Even philosophy sounds like poetry here.
To wield magic, one must first hear their Note, and then sound it.
The book described three methods:
1. Chanting
Words that give shape to resonance. It's the most common and safest method.
2. Runes
Writing the formula on a medium and infusing it with mana. Orcs carved runes directly into their skin.
3. Pose
Directing mana through movement, hand signs, stances, footwork. The western monks had turned it into an art of war, a Martial Arts.
The last pages discussed Harmony and Dissonance, how two Tones could merge or clash. But I closed the book before finishing.
My eyes ached. My brain spun.
It wasn't that I didn't understand, it was that I understood too much at once.
I pushed the book aside and rubbed my temples.
It was like reading an orchestra score while still learning what music even meant.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
"Come in,"
I called, expecting my mother.
But instead,
"What are you doing, Caelus?"
A cheerful voice, soft and curious.
I turned and found her standing there, Luna Astrea.
Her shoulder-length blonde hair shimmered faintly under the light, her blue eyes full of innocent wonder. She carried a small basket in both hands, the smell of sweet fruit drifting out.
"Just reading, Luna,"
I said, smiling faintly.
She tilted her head.
"Again? You've been reading so much lately. You'll turn into an old sage before you're twelve."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Luna giggled.
"It wasn't one."
Her laughter filled the room like sunlight.
She stepped closer and set the basket on my desk. Inside were several golden fruits, glistening like drops of sunlight.
"Mother said these just came in from the southern trade road,"
she said proudly.
"They help with mana exhaustion. You should try one."
"Mana exhaustion?"
I raised an eyebrow.
"How would you know that?"
Luna puffed her cheeks.
"I read it! In the healer's book your mother lent me."
That made me pause.
"You can read Vocemantica?"
"Just a little,"
she said shyly.
"You taught me once, remember?"
For a second, I froze.
The real Caelus had taught her.
Not me.
I looked away, forcing a smile.
"Right… yeah. Of course I did."
We sat quietly for a while, sharing the fruit. The taste was soft, almost honey-like, leaving a faint warmth in the throat.
"So…"
she said between bites,
"when are you coming back to the market with me? You promised you'd show me that fireworks stall again."
"Fireworks stall?"
She blinked.
"You really forgot?"
I hesitated.
"Maybe a little."
Her expression softened.
"You hit your head pretty hard, huh?"
"Something like that,"
I said quietly.
Luna leaned forward.
"Then promise me again! Next time we go, you'll buy the biggest spark flare they have."
I smiled.
"Deal."
She grinned triumphantly.
"Good. You always keep your promises."
Her words lingered like a quiet echo.
Do I?
Before I could reply, a sharp noise broke the calm.
BANG!
A door slammed somewhere outside, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps and a shout from the street.
Luna jumped slightly.
"What was that?"
We both rushed to the window.
Down below, people had gathered near the corner of the market road. Two soldiers in blue-and-brass armor were speaking to a merchant, their hands gesturing urgently.
Then, faintly, I heard the word that made my blood run cold.
"Monster sighted near the northern wall!"
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Luna's eyes widened.
"A Monster? Here?"
"It must've wandered too close from the outer forest,"
I muttered.
My mind flashed back to the Encyclopedia of Life, the page about monsters touched by mana.
'The more they devour, the more they change.'
That wasn't just myth anymore.
Luna gripped my sleeve.
"You think Father and Uncle will be okay? He's out on patrol, right?"
I nodded slowly.
"They both will be fine. They're tougher than anyone I know."
But my stomach twisted anyway.
If monsters were sighted this close to Eschatopolis… then maybe the Empire's edge wasn't as safe as it pretended to be.
I underestimated this world.
Once the noise outside died down, Luna sat back beside me, though her face still looked pale.
"You're not scared?"
she asked softly.
I smiled faintly.
"Maybe a little. But fear's just another rhythm of the soul, right? It means we're alive."
She blinked.
"That sounds like something Caelus would say."
The old Caelus, she meant.
"Maybe he rubbed off on me,"
I said.
She laughed quietly.
"You're weird."
"I've been told that before."
After Luna left, I returned to my desk. The book on Soul Resonance still lay open, its pages fluttering from the breeze.
The section about "hearing your Note" caught my eye again.
'Close your eyes. Silence your thoughts. Let the world fade, and listen. The soul hums quietly when the heart is still.'
"Easy for you to say," I muttered.
Still, I tried.
I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing. The faint hum of the city faded, the chatter, the clatter, even the sound of my heartbeat.
I am now filled with questions and answers, thinking deeper and even deeper, the more I did it.
Fire was Passion, because passion burns and consumes.
Water was Empathy, because it flows to fill the shape of others.
Wind was Freedom, because it cannot be contained.
Earth was Resolve, because it endures.
It wasn't about what mana did, but what it meant.
Each element wasn't a force, it was a reflection of the soul that used it.
I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking deeper.
Then what about me?
My soul wasn't passion.
Nor calm. Nor freedom. Nor faith.
I was… thought.
Endless, spiraling, restless thought.
I analyzed, dissected, questioned. I didn't feel magic, I understood it.
I opened my eyes and looked down at my hands.
"What if thought itself is a resonance?"
I whispered.
"Not emotion, but reflection?"
I closed my eyes again.
Feeling something inside me stirred.
A faint vibration, not heat, not chill, a low hum that felt like the air holding its breath.
The flame of the candle bent slightly, pulled toward me.
Ink from the quill rippled in its bottle.
And for a heartbeat… time seemed to pause.
My chest tightened.
I closed my eyes, not forcing it, just listening.
At first there was only stillness.
Then, like a whisper at the edge of a dream, came a faint tone.
Clear. Endless.
Not loud, but impossibly deep.
Not the crackle of fire.
Not the rush of water or the breath of wind.
It was the sound of contemplation itself, the quiet hum before understanding, the space between thought and revelation.
Aether.
My mind expanded, just for an instant, I saw threads of mana flowing around me, faint trails of silver and violet weaving through the air.
They responded to me.
Not to my will, but to my awareness.
I reached out, and one thread touched my fingertip.
The world blurred.
A surge of clarity hit me, my heartbeat, the flicker of the candle, the air itself, I understood their rhythm. Their existence.
Then it vanished.
The mana threads faded into the air, leaving only silence and the faint scent of ozone.
I slumped forward, breathing hard, my head pounding.
"So this is… Mana... And Aether…"
I whispered.
Not power.
Understanding.
The resonance of thought itself.
My fingers trembled slightly as I smiled to myself.
The candle on the desk flickered once, then stilled.
Outside, I heard the faint howl of wind and the sound of soldiers' boots on the cobbled street.
I exhaled slowly, feeling both drained and exhilarated.
I hadn't cast a spell.
I hadn't summoned anything.
But I'd touched mana, not as energy, but as an idea.
Somewhere deep inside me, the Note of my soul had finally sounded.
Quiet. Measured. Infinite.
"Learn. Think. Understand."
I whispered those words to the night.
And for the first time since arriving in this world,
I didn't feel like a stranger.
I felt… awake.