Data and Magic

William took the stone, his hand trembling slightly with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the shapes Julia had drawn, the sound of her voice, the feeling of his own nascent mana. He traced the runes on the stone, mimicking her movements as best he could. He took a deep breath, focused his mind, and whispered, "Light."

Nothing happened.

The stone remained cold and inert in his hand, a stark contrast to the glowing warmth he'd witnessed moments before. He tried again, concentrating harder, visualizing the light more vividly, enunciating the word with greater clarity. "Light!"

Still nothing.

He opened his eyes, frustration etched on his face. He'd expected... something. A spark, a flicker, a glimmer of light. He'd expected, perhaps foolishly, that his newfound ability to sense mana would translate into an immediate aptitude for spellcasting. He'd been so quick to grasp the language, so quick to adapt to Edward's sword training. He'd assumed magic would be the same.

He tried again, and again, and again. Each attempt was met with the same frustrating result: nothing. He fumbled with the runes, his fingers clumsy and imprecise. He mispronounced the incantation, his voice cracking with frustration. He struggled to visualize the light, his mind filled with doubts, with self-criticism, with the growing fear that he was simply not cut out for this. Even when it appeared that William had perfectly mimicked what Julia had done, the result was still the same… nothing.

Julia watched him patiently, offering gentle corrections, guiding his hand, adjusting his posture, repeating the incantation, her voice a soothing balm against his growing frustration. She refrained from showing any sign of her earlier surprise, maintaining a calm and encouraging demeanour, the perfect picture of a patient tutor.

Internally, however, she was experiencing a mixture of relief and continued bewilderment. William's initial failure to cast the Light spell, while disappointing for him, was, in a strange way, reassuring to her. It grounded him, made him seem more... human. If he'd succeeded on his first try, after sensing his mana so readily, it would have been almost too much, too extraordinary, too unsettling.

She couldn't help but smile inwardly, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement of her lips, as she watched him struggle. She admired his persistence, his refusal to give up, his willingness to learn from his mistakes. He was a curious mix of extraordinary talent and ordinary human fallibility, a combination that she found both intriguing and endearing. She reminded herself that they had only just met, that she barely knew him, that her growing fascination with this strange man from beyond the land of Aver was... unprofessional. But she couldn't deny the spark of interest, the flicker of curiosity, that he ignited within her.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to an hour, Julia finally called a halt to the practice. "Enough for now, William," she said gently. "Magic isn't something you can learn in a day. It takes time, patience, and practice. We have a long journey ahead of us. We'll have plenty of opportunities to work on it."

William, his face flushed with exertion and frustration, nodded wearily. He was disappointed, of course, but he also understood. He'd learned enough about magic in the past few hours to realize that it wasn't as simple as waving a wand and uttering a few magic words. It was a complex art, a demanding discipline, a skill that required dedication and perseverance. He was also, deep down, relieved to have a break. He was mentally and physically exhausted. He needed to rest, to clear his head, to process everything that had happened.

They continued their journey and the next couple of days being the same routine. Lessons in both magic and sword in the morning, sparring with Edward at night and practicing the light spell throughout the day. On the sixth day, his light spell was still the same as the first day… nothing. He had managed to land a hit on Edward earlier during the spar, but this did little to lift him mind, which was always niggling at him, reminding him that the light spell, something so simple was beyond his grasp.

The sun setting behind them, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange, red, and purple. The forest, once again, grew still and silent, aside from William, Julia and Edward's movements. They made camp, ate a simple meal of dried meat and fruit, and settled down for the night.

William lay on his bedroll, staring up at the star-studded sky, his mind still racing. He thought about the Light spell, about the runes, about the incantation, about the feeling of his own mana, so close, yet so elusive. He replayed the lesson in his mind, analysing his mistakes, identifying areas for improvement, formulating new strategies.

He was determined to master this, to unlock the potential that lay within him. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't be defeated. He would learn magic, no matter how long it took, no matter how many times he failed.

As he was drifting off to sleep, a final, desperate thought crossed his mind. One more try.

He reached out and picked up a small, smooth stone from the ground beside his bedroll. He closed his eyes, focusing his mind, visualizing the runes, remembering Julia's instructions. He traced the symbols on the stone with his fingertip, his movements slow and deliberate, his concentration absolute. He took a deep breath, and whispered the incantation, his voice barely audible, a mere breath of sound in the stillness of the night.

"Light."

And this time, it worked.

A soft, warm glow emanated from the stone, a gentle, flickering light, no brighter than a candle flame, but enough to illuminate his hand, to cast dancing shadows on the surrounding foliage. It was a tiny spark, a fragile beacon, but it was magic. His magic.

William stared at the glowing stone, his heart pounding in his chest, a wave of pure, unadulterated joy washing over him. He'd done it. He'd cast his first spell. A tiny, insignificant spell, perhaps, but a spell nonetheless. A testament to his perseverance, to his determination, to his potential.

A wide smile spread across his face, a smile of triumph, of accomplishment, of pure, childlike wonder. He held the glowing stone aloft, a tiny beacon in the darkness, a symbol of hope, of possibility, of the magical journey that lay ahead.

However, in William's initial happiness at finally being able to cast the Light spell, he only just noticed there was another glow that appeared a little distance away. William, wondering to himself what this second glow was, took a step towards it to take a closer look.