That magic fails to operate within our understanding of physics, is not a failure on either the part of magic or physics, but of our imagination and our understanding of both.
While it is commonly held knowledge that only solid catalysts are of use when casting, it is also incorrect. This can be proven by simply looking at the various multipart catalysts that people have used over the years, things such as a rather famous amber amulet, complete with it’s encased insect, or the various fused skulls on display in the archives of forbidden practices. While such things are considered to be exceptions to the rule, they are in fact evidence that the rule is simply incomplete. It Is much easier to use a single solid piece, such as the basic focusing crystals provided to all when they first start their journey down the illuminated path, and thus the usage of multipart catalysts must be taken as evidence of a barrier, but not a limit.
The fact that the powerful and the desperate can overcome such a barrier is evidence of the extent that desperation can empower us to exceed what we believe our limitations to be, not the nature of those limitations.
Fundamentally, it is the harmonics that matter when using the catalyst, and things that share a structure have far simpler harmonics than things that are constructed from multiple sources. One of the obvious complications is that most constructed objects will have unintended internal focal points, places where the energy gets tangled, which tends to result in ripples that disrupt the homeostasis of the framework of the spell.
In theory, one could remove such disruptions, either true careful design and construction of the object, or through preparation, understanding said disruptions and compensating for them. Generally though, such things are considered to be speculative.
The alternative, which was obvious to me, was a catalyst whose structure is known, but not truly stable. Evidence of this can be found in folklore, the classic scrying pools, made of liquid contained within a bowl. Not a solid structure, but acting as one for the purposes of amplifying the forces being called upon in the ritual.
Why is this relevant? Well, this is what got me expelled in the first place. And I’m fairly sure that if I hadn’t been expelled, none of this would have turned out this way. I’d have completed my studies, been given the appropriate paperwork, been offered a handful of “opportunities to serve our community” and probably settled down to a peaceful life.
Instead, well, if you are reading this, you’ve likely heard the rumours and the official story. Or perhaps not, perhaps this text reaches you in a time or place where I am unknown, that this is merely a novelty. Regardless, should you continue, I’ll try to elaborate on the truth, at least as I understand it, and hopefully that will be entertaining, if not enlightening to you.
It was not my intent to mock the examiner, nor their processes, I merely had discovered something I found fascinating and I had thought that it was a wise idea to demonstrate my theory to someone who held some authority; that by showing them, under conditions that they controlled, the merit of my theories. In my youth and my ignorance of the politics, I assumed that they would see the potential in what I had found. Instead, they declared it was outside the rules of the test and insisted I use materials that they had on hand.
In theory, this would not have been a bad thing, I’d just adapt, and work with the tools provided, pass the test, and find some other chance to prove my theory. In practice, this meant that instead of using the tools I had practiced with, that required such delicate manipulation to achieve the structures that I was pulling together, I was instead using a tool that functionally magnified the power. Instead of using the precise balance of interwoven forces, I was aligning all that force along a single channel.
An astute and educated reader will have already guessed what happened next. The spell I cast, freed from the limitations of the materials I had been working with, roared into reality, and in the process consumed the safety protocols, part of the wall, and my chances at a quiet future.
I said I was expelled, and while that’s true, it’s less relevant that I was expelled and more relevant how the folks in charge decided that expulsion needed to be carried out. Given that I’d just exploded the testing chamber, they were intent on an implosion of my skull and all contained within, before I could do further harm.
Having made the determination that my existence was no longer to be tolerated, it would be expected that any enforcer of the rules under which our society exists be able to quickly martial their wits and remove a mere student.
Funny thing though, when a spell has just shattered, the way those wards did, is that there is so much invisible noise that visualizing more than the most basic spell is nearly impossible.
Under those circumstances, for all practical purposes, the only ones who would be able to cast would be those who did it without visualizing it. Which in most cases meant the spells that folks had internalized to the point where their casting was done entirely by rote memory, without the need of visualization for control.
At least that was the common understanding of the theory. In practice, there was a second type of caster who could function under those circumstances. Someone who didn’t, and in fact couldn’t, rely on the visualization of the spells to cast them. Someone who suffers from what those outside our society have defined as aphantasia. And truly, I mean outside our society, since I am at this point sure that all those that the magical society would consider peers do not suffer from it. Evidence for this is in their teachings, and how they all teach the visualization of the spells first.
That in fact, is my secret, the thing that truly set me apart from the others. I’ve told you this now, so you can put the book down and move on, without later being upset that I’d wasted your time. After all, the idea is purely absurd to anyone raised with magic. It would be like a blind sharpshooter, somehow able to find the target without seeing it.
So, if you are continuing to read this, then my absurd claims haven’t killed your curiosity about my methods. Simply put, I don’t have the ability to see things within my head. I don’t have the ability to create the delicate structures that allow the harnessing of the forces beyond. And I kept this hidden, a secret shame, while learning my craft, while trying to complete my course work, and in the end, while attempting to pass my exams.
With the exam room at least partially deconstructed, with the noise and the chaotic whirl of energy in the room, their somewhat complicated non-lethal spells were not an option, and as we both realized that, it became clear in their posture that they were going to attempt something more primal, raw force to remove me quickly. At that point, my own reflexes, built in the dueling arena and then honed by the jealousy of my peers, took over, and I pulled up a structure to protect me from them; a shield that would hold off most simple attacks. It came without thought, just a reaction to danger, and it is fortunate that it did, otherwise their similarly honed spell would have put an early end to my tale.
Grabbing my previously confiscated focus, I was able to spin the energy into a doorway and quickly make my exit. Anyone who has been involved with any sort of gateway travel is probably aghast at this point, thinking of all the ritual elements used to reduce the chaos of such magics. Instead, I was embracing the chaos and leaping through a hole that had just been spun into reality, without an anchor and without any beacons.
It is my firm belief that their disbelief in the survivability of such an unstructured spell is why they didn’t simply follow me into it, and why it was generally reported that I had perished in that incident.
Clearly, I hadn’t, or I wouldn’t be writing this memoir.
That is not to say that I was unharmed or unshaken by my rather expedient escape.
The journey would have likely been a memorable one, but I must have blacked out, as the next thing I knew I was on all fours, on some soft and damp shore, sinking in, with nothing to push back against. My face hadn’t entered the muck yet, but it seemed like it would be inevitable that I would soon submerge and thus soon have difficulty with that whole breathing and staying alive thing that we all need to do.
I’d have sank down into that rich and murky broth, concealed and preserved, becoming just a footnote in the examiner’s logs, with no supporting evidence. Even if they managed to trace the gateway to this point, the life inherent in the bog would have masked my body from their divinations.
However, once again, the fact that I was not well liked came to my aid. Folks who had for their own reasons decided that my head should be submerged in various substances had inadvertently taught me how to quickly create a simple mesh in my mouth that allowed me to continue to breathe under the water, as long as I didn’t exert myself.
As I sank down, disoriented, disillusioned and dejected, I slipped into a state of meditation, as I slipped deeper under the surface. I tried to piece together all the jumbled pieces of what had happened, as for the most part, I’d been reacting and I hadn’t really caught up to what I’d done.
Pulling myself together, I began to put it back together. The exam, the catalysts, the explosion of raw power, the gateway. It hit me all at once how truly fucked the situation was. I’d attempted to impress someone, and instead had painted myself with a target. They had attempted to kill me, as soon as they realize that they couldn’t pull of a stun under those circumstances. And if they’d decided to kill me, it was unlikely that anyone would question that decision. Not until the council got together for a post mortem, and clearly that would be too late for me, as I’d be the one morted.
I’d escaped, and for the moment wasn’t likely to be pursued. But, it wouldn’t be long before the tale would travel, and once that happened, my being not dead would be justification for anyone to try to change that.
Of all the possible outcomes of my exams, this was not one I’d considered. I’d considered plenty of ways I could potentially fail the exam, but nothing quite so disastrous and life altering.
Shit. I was rogue wizard.
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