Two years have passed since then. I can walk much better now; even those villainous stairs are no match for me. I've kept up with my magic training without going overboard. My control over magic has improved. One time, I used magic way too many times in a day and got a headache. It was hell, truly. I wanted to cry so much and call Hilda over. But it was something I did to myself, and if they find out I can already use magic, they'll think I'm some kind of cursed child and burn me at the stake. It's a scary thought. It got even scarier when Hilda almost caught me using magic. So I kept my training a secret to avoid attracting attention from anyone.
Calhoun got some free time after some minor scuffles with the neighboring country. So from today onwards, for a few months, he'll be personally teaching me the magic passed down in the family. Our Elwood family specializes in—you guessed it—wood magic. It doesn't exactly inspire flashy imagery. I was feeling uncertain about all this while standing in the garden of our estate.
"Magic is all about concentration," Calhoun began the lecture. His voice sounded firm—maybe because he was teaching me. "If you concentrate on what you want to conjure, your will affects your environment."
So my hypothesis about magic was correct. If you can just imagine whatever and concentrate to make it, wouldn't it be possible to create nuclear magic? It's not outside the realm of possibility. But considering the time period, I highly doubt anyone's ever seen a nuclear bomb. If I go by the idea that people use magic based on natural phenomena—like rain, thunderstorms, or even landslides—magic still has the potential to evolve.
"Then, let's start with something simple." Calhoun's voice pulled me back from my spiraling curiosity. I have to listen now, or he might get angry. "Let's start with water magic. It's an important element for a wood mage. Imagine a water ball and try conjuring it."
I tried to make it as small as possible. The sensation of creating a water ball never ceases to amaze me. I'm transforming mana into water. I imagine the process would be something like using mana as fuel to combine hydrogen and oxygen molecules to form it. A small pool of water formed in my palm. It was trying to spill out—pulled down by gravity or maybe magic I didn't understand yet. I concentrated harder to enhance the shape, and I could feel it slowly taking form.
"Impressive, you did it on your first try," he said, sounding genuinely impressed. "Now imagine the water ball flying through the air," he added, placing his hands on my shoulders. His hands felt heavy—maybe from anticipation, or maybe because I was unconsciously seeking his approval.
I made the water ball float over the ground and drop ten meters from where I was standing. Not exactly an impressive feat. But Calhoun smiled and stroked my head. "Well done, Silas," he said.
Seriously, it's not that impressive, but I guess Calhoun can be a doting parent.
"Now, let's get into other elements," Calhoun continued his lessons. "Next, let's study wood magic, our family's namesake."
It wasn't the most exciting magic out there, but the family has to mean something.
By closing his eyes, Calhoun started conjuring wood.
"This is called the 'Heart Wood,'" Calhoun said as a plant slowly grew from the ground and transformed into a clump of wood that shaped similar to a heart. "This magic is used to heal an injured person by sharing the life source of the wood with them."
If I had that magic in my dying moments, I could've lived. Well, no point in thinking so hard about it.
"Wood magic is sacred to our family. Only the bloodline of an Elwood can conjure wood magic," Calhoun continued.
"Why is that?" I asked Calhoun, unable to contain my curiosity.
"Our ancestor was blessed by 'The God of Duty, Amari,' and bestowed us with the duty of protecting and living together with the trees," Calhoun calmly answered my question.
Gods, huh? I wish this was just a tale, and this hereditary magic wasn't caused by them. I don't want them to be real.
"Wood magic is very versatile, and you'll continue to learn more magic from other disciplines," Calhoun lectured. "But I wanted you to learn this first."
"Is it something special?"
"Yes, Silas. It's a special magic only an Elwood can do. There is healing magic, which only those with royal blood can use. But it only speed up the natural healing of the human body, so the Elwoods are useful in time of war."
It's surprising that they know healing magic only accelerates the healing process of the body. How did they test this hypothesis? Only way I can imagine is using a test subject—injuring them and healing them until their tissues age and die. That sounds horrible. But somehow 'Heart Wood' is able to bypass this limitation. How? Is it because it was something granted by a god? No, Calhoun mentioned how only the royal family can use healing magic, so it should be a god-given skill as well.
"Is healing magic also a god-given gift to the royal family?" I asked Calhoun for answers.
"Yes. I'm impressed that you figured it out. Healing magic was bestowed to the first King of Bryonia by 'The God of Peace, Salome.' He was the first human to gain the favor of a god. He wanted to make peaceful kingdom far away from war and misery, so he formed Bryonia."
That makes sense. Then Bryonia must be a really old kingdom—otherwise, the first King being the first human to gain a blessing from a god wouldn't make sense.
Maybe he was the first in recorded history.
"Okay, Silas, now you try conjuring the 'Heart of Wood,'" Calhoun said as he took a knife from his pocket and cut his hand.
"Father, what are you doing?" I yelled instinctively.
A great lump of wood blasted out of the earth, following my motion. It attached itself to him and began healing the wound. I could feel electricity coursing through the wood—I didn't understand why. The smell of blood was excruciating, sharp like iron, but it slowly began to fade with time. I held my breath as I watched his skin reattach itself, the wound nearly vanishing before my eyes. In that moment, it felt like time stood still. I could hear cries—men, women, even children. It was a strange, haunting sensation. I looked down at my trembling hands, unsure what to think or how to understand what I had just done. The wood I conjured got all shriveled up.
"That was impressive, Silas. You've combined the Elwoods' wood magic with the Hildebrands' lightning magic," Calhoun said, pulling me back to reality as he pulled me by the shoulders excitedly. He looked more than overjoyed.
"Why would you do such a thing, Father?" I asked, annoyed—ignoring the fact that I had just used two types of magic at once.
"Haha," he laughed heartly. "It's a family tradition. An Elwood must instinctively know when to heal someone. My father did the same thing when I was your age. I reacted just like you did, but your reaction time was far better than mine."
Well, I'm glad you're feeling all nostalgic, Calhoun—but never do that to me again, I complained silently.
"Looking back, that was one of the few happy memories I had with my father," Calhoun said softly.
Well, I can't say anything if you pull that card.
After reminiscing, he gently stroked my hair while smiling. I guess I'll forgive him for today.