I Could Have Been an Artist

Today I realized I screwed up. You may call me ungrateful, insecure, or even foolish, and as much as you may judge me as such, it is nothing against the judgement I hold for myself. I have earned the title of Grand Mage at the High College of Shiln, something very few of my people have acquired. I do not say this to gloat to you. Contrary to what you may be thinking, I am not proud of this achievement – it is only an event that has happened and passed, just like everything else in my life up to this point.

I am from Siwal, a place not known for its production of great mages or scholars. I, however, had a great talent for sorcery from a young age. It wasn’t that I practiced magic day in and day out, nor did I seek tutelage from the hermit mages in the Kiw Mountains: they who are perhaps wiser than any mage I’ve met in Shiln. It just came to me. I was discovered, so to speak, during an Uwali incursion. My family and I had fled our shanty as the invaders began to set our town ablaze. But something primal called out to me at that moment; the fire had called to me. I could feel its fervor within me – white-hot but not hateful – and I returned its call. Heedless of all else, I Connected with the fire, drawing it into me, and unleashed it back onto its handlers. None of the dozens who had carried the torches survived. The remaining Uwalis abandoned their raid and fled in the confusion. I was very badly burned, and I still bear those scars. I hadn’t known how to properly Connect to a pure element and my recklessness cost me dearly. The Uwalis never attacked us again, for they feared that the Kiw mages had finally sworn off their neutrality and had chosen our side; nobody bothered to correct that misconception. At the behest of the town elders, I was taken to the Kiw mages to be trained in the ancient ways of their craft, but they refused me. They would not harbor a murderer, was what they said. When word got out that I had been rejected by the Kiw mages, who are considered to be akin to living gods by my people, I became an outcast, spurned by those I had saved. It was clear I could not stay in the town, and whether out of duty, love, or fear, my parents made the long journey to Shiln to give me up to the guardianship of the mages at the High College. They accepted me gladly. I was only eleven at the time, and I am now thirty. I have neither seen nor heard from my parents in these long years I’ve spent at the College. I can only assume that they are forbidden to contact me, or that they are dead.

I studied hard. I didn’t take my natural talent for granted and I was at a severe disadvantage compared to some of my other peers. Some had been born at the College, strengthening their Connections since before they could form the word M-A-G-I-C on their still-developing tongues. I have met many powerful mages during my time here, many who are more passionate about sorcery and more deserving of the title of Grand Mage than myself. Oska – may her soul find Connection to the Ultimate – was one of them. She made me believe that I wanted for myself what she wanted for me: to become one of the greatest mages of our Dynasty. She came from a rich Shiln family and began her training when she was five. She was the first mage I met who didn’t see me as just a girl from Siwal, or as talented despite my heritage. She would spend hours with me after my lessons and taught me how to balance my internal energy before Connecting to a pure element. Many mages never learn to Connect to pure elements as it is very dangerous – something I’ve already demonstrated to you – and instead work with secondary elements like metal or smoke, but Oska didn’t want me to be any other mage, because she was not any other mage. It turned out that I had a special Connection to fire, which may not be surprising, and Oska taught me that fire is not only passion and fury, but also cleansing and rejuvenation. Fire, just like all pure elements, has the capacity to destroy or to preserve. But the balance is vital, because without it, a mage will only be overwhelmed and consumed by the raw power of the element. I fell in love with Oska’s devotion to magic, and with her. I don’t know when I realized I loved her, but our awkward banter and playful jabs eventually turned into something more. She inspired my creativity, something I forgot I had. I often painted things that reminded me of her, beautiful things, and some of those paintings I gifted to her. Others I kept for myself. When she died, I burned all of them.

I will not speak much of the plague that spread through all of Shiln that bleak summer, nearly ten years ago now: the one that took my Oska and many of the other mages and townsfolk. My Siwali anatomy made me immune, and the plague only seemed to affect those native to Shiln. It is still a topic of debate amongst scholars and mages whether the plague was natural or manufactured. Regardless, it took away something precious to me; whether I can blame nature or her children is no matter.

Following Oska’s death, I threw myself into my studies. I received the rank of Apprentice Mage after two years, and High Mage three years after that. I was the youngest person to achieve High Mage in this Dynasty, but I wanted more. I had to become Grand Mage.

To become Grand Mage, it’s not enough to be the best at your craft, you have to be revolutionary. I began my research in lightning Connection; it seemed like a natural offshoot from fire Connection, and other fire mages had attempted to Connect to lightning in the past: all unsuccessful. In my research, I discovered a mage named Sikara who had made a lightning Connection nearly fifty years ago. She was merely an Apprentice, but had been brave or stupid enough to make the attempt. She had successfully drawn the lightning to her and had held it within herself for a fraction of a second before unleashing it. The poor girl’s entire nervous system was fried in an instant. Despite the healers’ best efforts to revive her, she was declared officially dead by the High College, her soul forever severed from her body. The High College forbade lightning Connection from then on, but I could get away with bending and breaking a few rules here and there. The most important thing was whether my rule-breaking bore fruit.

Fire and air are cousins to lightning, and though Connecting to air is not as dangerous as fire, it is nearly as challenging to contain. I practiced containing both for long periods of time, and while I was never as good as Oska at air Connection, I managed to hold air for several hours – fire for an entire day. It was demanding, draining work, but I forced myself to do it anyway. Already rumors were spreading that I would be the next Grand Mage and that my secret project would change the world.

Two years ago, I finally convinced myself that I was ready to Connect to lightning. The problem was that I had to wait for a storm, which came unpredictably and seldomly, but the day had come at last. I went out into one of the open fields surrounding the High College with one of my fellow High Mages as witness, and waited. The approaching steel grey clouds and distant flashes filled me with dread. I would only have one chance to make the Connection. I would either return a legend, a failure, or not at all. The storm was soon upon me and I felt all of my hairs stand on end. I knew the lightning would strike a moment before it did. It called out to me, and I returned its call.

I would be lying if I said that lightning Connection felt powerful, or epiphanous. I only felt pain. At first, I thought I had died. I was blinded, smelled burnt hair and clothing, felt my body convulsing. After my initial shock subsided, I felt the lightning inside me: pulsing, jolting, untamed. So much like fire, and yet so completely foreign. I held it for several seconds before channeling it back up into the sky. The air around me split open and knocked me back. I laid there in a daze for what seemed like hours, before the High Mage who had been my witness and several other mages gathered around me. I only heard their terrified voices, muffled from the ringing in my ears. The healers were able to restore my sight and hearing and heal me of my wounds, but they warned me that might not be the case in the future. Regardless, I had done it. I would return a legend.

The High College, though impressed with my lightning Connection, didn’t grant me the title of Grand Mage. Their reasoning was that lightning Connection was too dangerous to be taught to other mages, and was therefore effectively useless. I felt numb. Then I felt rage. How could they deny me the title of Grand Mage when I’d done something no one in history had done before? I tried to tell myself that the title wasn’t important, that all that mattered was that I had done it. But it didn’t get rid of that empty feeling, nor did it fill me with pride or fulfillment. I wanted to leave the High College, and I might’ve done so, right then and there, and perhaps I should have, but another thought leaked into my mind. When I had made the Connection to the lightning, underneath the excruciating pain and wildness of it, I had felt something else: life. Or at the least the potential for life. It wasn’t alive like how you and I are alive, but it was some other form of energy. I didn’t know it at the time, but what I had experienced was the Spark.

I met with an architect I trusted named Skaad who worked on the iron machines we use for transportation, household chores, textile production, food production, etcetera – all powered by steam, furnaces, running water, or by hand. I proposed to him the possibility of the construction of a unit that could contain lightning, and whether he thought that would help him with his machines. He didn’t turn me away immediately, which was a good sign, and eventually, he decided it was a worthy venture. So, we began designing a containment unit for a small amount of lightning.

For an entire year, we worked on my project. The design we came up with in the end wasn’t very impressive, but Skaad assured me that it would do exactly what I wanted. It basically consisted of two metal plates with rods attached, encapsulated in a large ceramic jar. I only needed to touch one of the metal rods sticking out of the jar to send the lightning onto the plate. He also built a tube that would glow when connected to our containment unit full of harnessed lightning to know whether our design had worked. The tricky part would be getting the lightning onto the plate in the first place. If I unleashed all of it, our contraption would undoubtedly be destroyed. “Only a little bit,” Skaad had warned. It was easier said than done.

I was impatient, and luckily, a storm was projected to arrive at the end of the week. Skaad and I, along with a High Mage (a different one this time) and a healer from the College, went to the field. I had been practicing relentlessly with fire and air and felt more confident this time. However, I was nervous that I might screw up the transfer. It wouldn’t be too much of a hassle – the contraption was easy enough to build – but I wanted it to be over with as soon as possible. I was tired, and I wasn’t sure I’d have the energy or will to try again.

It was easier the second time, but the pain was still almost unbearable. The lightning within me buzzed, anxious to be released. I had to stabilize my body against the spasms long enough to reach out and touch the metal rod. The lightning fought to be channeled fully into our contraption, but my will was steadfast. I released a Spark, that small slice of lightning, from my fingertips onto the metal rod, then I channeled the rest of it upward, back into the dark clouds. The healer was on me in an instant, though this time, I had remembered to close my eyes when I channeled and had stuffed some cotton into my ears preemptively. My wounds were minimal. Skaad excitedly brought his glow tube to the jar, which was thankfully still intact, and connected it. A white, brilliant light emanated from it, the same white as the lightning, and he cried out, tears filling his eyes. I only managed a small smile.

The next month, the High College announced me as the fifth Grand Mage; before, I would have replaced old Tikus, the fire Grand Mage, but instead I represent the new element of lightning. After the ceremony this morning, I went to my room and sat at my desk. I found, with unexpected grief, that I felt nothing – an emptiness tinged with a sense of foreboding. When Skaad and I started this project, we knew that the Spark would have the potential to bring life to machines. The implications of this are immeasurable and unknowable, and only when the world is changed will we truly realize what we’ve done. I am now tasked with bringing the High College into a new era, instructing new mages in the way of lightning Connection, though few will ever begin to learn how to use it in practice. How many mages will die trying to accomplish what I’ve done?

But I think the most devastating part about my life is that I never wanted any of this for myself in the first place. This is why I asked to meet with you, that you might not follow in my footsteps. I realized today that I never truly desired to be a mage; I only wanted power, and power is unpredictable and insatiable. I have achieved my goal, persevered, become Grand Mage, and still I am left empty. I thought I would have felt some sort of relief at the very least, but I am only filled with uncertainty and fear for the future. As I recount my short life to you, I am astounded at what I’ve accomplished with no passion. It makes me wonder what I could have achieved had my parents never taken me to the High College, if I had never answered the fire’s call. I think about those paintings I made for Oska so long ago. They were beautiful. Perhaps I could have been an artist, content with a life of making and appreciating beautiful things. Beauty is so fleeting, and what is more fulfilling than capturing forever those things that are gone in an instant?