William seized the opening, his mind buzzing with the implications of his unexpectedly rapid healing. The need for data was now intensely personal. "You mentioned magic, Julia," he pressed, leaning forward slightly, forgetting the ache in his leg for a moment. "Like the translation spell… and Mendal spoke of true healing magic as if it were possible, even if lost. Can you tell me more? How does it actually work? What are the… the fundamental principles?"
A genuine light sparked in Julia's eyes, her weariness momentarily overshadowed by an infectious enthusiasm, like a scholar finally asked about their favourite, complex subject. "Magic," she began, her hands lifting, starting to move with unconscious grace as she spoke, "isn't truly summoned from nothing, William. It's an innate force, an energy woven into the fabric of the world and residing within all living things. Think of it as a kind of life energy, potent and waiting. We call this inner potential 'mana'."
She paused, perhaps cupping her hands slightly as if holding something precious. "Imagine this mana like… water. A source of vital power held within you. And each person? They hold that water in a 'container' of sorts, a reservoir deep inside."
"Okay," William nodded slowly, already mapping the concept. Internal energy source: Mana. Analogy: Water. Storage: Internal container.
"But the size of that container," Julia continued, her voice gaining intensity, her eyes widening slightly to emphasize the point, "varies immensely between individuals." She held her hands close together, fingers forming a small cup shape. "Some hold barely enough for a few sips of power, enough for only the simplest tricks." Her hands spread wider, miming holding a jug or pitcher. "Others carry enough for steady work, more complex spells, like a full jug they can draw from reliably." Her hands opened further still, sketching a wide surface. "And then there are those whose inner source is like a deep, clear pond, holding significant reserves." Her voice dropped slightly then, tinged with a note of awe. "Legends even speak of individuals, thankfully rare perhaps, whose capacity is like the boundless sea itself, vast beyond imagining."
William processed this rapidly. Okay, scaling factor introduced. Variable 'Mana Capacity'. Range: Extremely wide, 'Cup' to 'Ocean'. That's not linear; that's potentially logarithmic or exponential difference in magnitude. Personal computing power versus… national grid infrastructure? The potential disparity is immense. "So," he clarified, "the fundamental limit on magical output at any one time, or over time, is dictated by the size of this… internal reservoir?"
"Primarily, yes," Julia confirmed with a warm smile, clearly pleased by his focused attention. "That reservoir is your mana pool. Casting a spell draws upon that stored energy, that water. A simple cantrip…" she flicked her fingers, and a tiny, harmless spark danced between them for a second before winking out, "…is just that small sip from your container. Barely noticeable if you hold a pond's worth, but draining if all you have is a cup. Those Magic Missiles I used against the wolves?" Her expression turned serious for a moment. "That required a much bigger amount from my own pool."
"Understood. Finite resource, variable capacity, depletion via execution," William summarized internally. Energy conservation still applies. Excellent. "So, how do you refill the container once you've taken a drink?"
"We absorb ambient mana from the environment," Julia explained, gesturing outward now, encompassing the cave and the world beyond. "It's everywhere, intrinsically part of reality, flowing in the air, concentrated in the earth and living things, carried on sunlight. But just like capacity, our ability to absorb it, to refill our pool, also varies." She used her hands again, this time forming a funnel shape. "Think of it like a funnel catching rainwater. Some individuals have wide funnels, drawing in ambient mana quickly, efficiently, replenishing their reserves rapidly even after significant expenditure. Others," she narrowed the imagined funnel with her fingers, "have very narrow funnels. They absorb mana slowly, needing long periods of rest or meditation to recharge fully after using their power."
"So, recharge rate acts like… energy intake bandwidth?" William mused aloud. "And environment affects the available 'signal strength' or density of that energy?"
"An interesting analogy, but yes, essentially," Julia agreed. "Areas rich in natural life and energy, like the Tallenwood, despite its dangers, are saturated with ambient mana. Recharging there is faster, easier. Barren lands, deserts, or places actively corrupted by dark magic…" her lips thinned briefly, "…might offer very little mana, making recovery extremely slow, even for those with wide funnels."
William nodded, recalling the vibrant, almost electric hum he'd sensed in the forest. "Tallenwood = High-Mana Density Zone. Potential resource for users with sufficient absorption capability. Note: Also contains high density of hostile entities. Risk/Reward calculation required." He kept the buffet comparison to himself this time. "So, consolidating the data," he said, ticking points off mentally, "a mage considered powerful likely possesses both a large mana pool like a deep reservoir and a high absorption rate akin to a wide funnel?"
"Exactly!" Julia confirmed, her eyes bright with the shared understanding of the system. "Someone like that can wield significant power and recover quickly, enabling them to cast demanding spells repeatedly or sustain enchantments for long periods. Consider Edward," she added, pre-empting his likely next query. "He's a masterful swordsman, and the lightning he calls to his blade is true magic, drawn from his own mana pool. But his pool, his reservoir, is shallower than that of a dedicated spellcaster like myself. His funnel is decent, allowing him to recharge between skirmishes, but he couldn't sustain that level of enchantment indefinitely or cast spells of great complexity. He focuses his mana to enhance his martial skill, a 'magic swordsman'."
William absorbed this, picturing Edward's crackling blade. Classification: Magic Swordsman. Hybrid Class (Martial/Magic). Mana Pool: Moderate/Low? Absorption Rate: Moderate? Primary Application: Weapon Enchantment/Combat Enhancement. Resource management likely critical. It added another layer to the warrior's quiet competence.
"Which implies," William stated, less a question than an extrapolation, "your own reservoir and recharge rate are… substantially higher?"
A faint blush coloured Julia's cheeks again, a charming contrast to her usual composure. "I… was born with a strong aptitude," she admitted, looking down at her hands for a moment. "And my family has… traditions. I began training at a young age to understand and control it."
"Formal training," William repeated, the concept still sparking intense interest. "Structured learning environment. Indicates magic is a quantifiable, teachable discipline, not just raw talent." "That's… incredibly significant." His own recent, inexplicable healing flashed through his mind.
Julia, perhaps sensing his train of thought or simply wanting to broaden the topic, continued smoothly. "Aptitude often leans towards certain types of magic too. Different disciplines with their own principles, their own runes and incantations. Elemental magic is perhaps the most common, harnessing fire, water, earth, air." Her hands moved, sketching the feel of leaping flames, then flowing water. "Enchantment, as we discussed with Edward's sword, imbues objects or even people with specific properties. There are more specialised paths too, illusion, divination, transformation…"
Her expression grew shadowed, the earlier warmth receding. "And then… there are the perversions." Her voice dropped, heavy with disgust and a thread of fear. "Necromancy, the path Neverus treads. It's not just another type of magic, it's a corruption, a twisting of the fundamental cycle of life and death to steal power. It feeds on suffering, thrives on decay. A foul and dangerous art." Dark Magic: Necromancy. User: Neverus. Mechanism: Exploitation/Corruption of life/death energies. Ethical Flag: Severe violation. Strategic Note: Generates resources (undead) from enemy casualties.
The grim reminder hung in the air for a moment before William deliberately shifted focus back to his own anomaly. "And healing magic? Mendal seemed surprised… he said my leg healed as if… well, as if by magic, though he called it lost lore."
Julia's brow furrowed again, her expression thoughtful, perhaps even troubled. "True healing magic, the restorative kind Mendal was likely thinking of, capable of regenerating tissue, mending bone almost instantly, is essentially lost lore in Aver. The stories link it to ancient priesthoods, long faded. What healers practice now involves deep knowledge of herbs, anatomy, aiding the body's natural processes, like using citrusroot to fight infection. Potions can grant temporary vigour or numb pain. But spontaneous, rapid regeneration…" She shook her head slowly. "That's something different. Something exceedingly rare, if it exists at all beyond legend."
William fell silent, digesting this. Status of True Healing Magic: Functionally Extinct/Mythological. So, his own recovery remained a significant, unexplained data point, potentially falling outside even this world's known magical parameters. The implications were… staggering. If I could understand what happened… If it could be replicated…
He pushed the speculation aside for now. First principles. "Okay," he said, refocusing on the mechanics. "So, putting aside my leg for a moment… how does one actually cast a spell? You mentioned the components."
Julia seemed to welcome the shift back to mechanics, her face lighting up again. "Yes! It's the interplay of the three core components. Think of it as… aiming and firing an arrow." She held up one finger. "First, you need the Mana. the energy drawn from your pool, like the strength you use to draw the bowstring."
A second finger joined the first. "Second, the Runes. These aren't just random symbols. They are precise patterns, almost like… like the specific design of the arrow and the bow itself, determining potential power, range, effect. They shape the mana, give it structure and purpose."
She held up a third finger. "Finally, the Incantation. The spoken words, or sometimes just a focused thought for simpler spells. This is like releasing the bowstring, the catalyst that activates the runic structure and sends the mana towards its target according to the design."
She held out her hand again, tracing glowing lines in the firelight. "The 'Magic Missile' requires a simple 'Force Projection' rune," an arrow shape flared briefly, "combined with a 'Lesser Guidance' rune," a more complex swirl, "activated by the incantation. The runes dictate what the mana will do. The incantation makes it do it. More complex spells," she emphasized, "need more intricate rune sequences woven together, demand more mana, and often require longer, more precise incantations. Get the runes wrong, or fumble the words, and the spell might fizzle… or worse."
William's mind ignited. System architecture identified! Mana = Power Source. Runes = Command Syntax / Program Structure. Incantation = Execution Trigger / Compiler. It was complex, alien, yet possessed an underlying logic. Rules. Parameters. Cause and effect. A system he could potentially learn, analyse, maybe even… debug? The exhilaration was a tangible buzz, a feeling of standing on the threshold of a vast, new, potentially quantifiable field of knowledge.
"So… theoretically," he said, leaning forward again, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, "if a person possesses some mana reservoir, and learns the correct runes, the syntax, and the incantations, the execution commands… they could cast spells? It's a learnable skill?"
Julia smiled, a wide, genuine expression reflecting his own eagerness. "In theory, yes, William. The potential, however small, exists in almost everyone. But raw potential and actual ability are vastly different." Her smile softened into seriousness. "Aptitude varies greatly. The size of your pool, the efficiency of your absorption, your innate grasp of the patterns… these differ hugely. Some struggle for years to master the simplest light cantrip. Others seem to grasp complex weaves almost instinctively." She held his gaze intently. "And true mastery requires immense dedication, rigorous practice, and deep discipline. Magic is power, William, and power always carries responsibility, and often, danger." She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "But… yes. Theoretically, with the right guidance and effort… you could learn."
His heart performed an irregular beating rhythm, adrenaline and excitement pushing forward. Learn magic. Not as a theoretical concept, but as a practical application. Wield the fundamental forces of this reality. It was an idea so far beyond the scope of his previous existence, so filled with impossible potential…
"Could you…" The question felt momentous, leaping out before his cautious analytic side could fully vet the risks. Hope and trepidation warred in his voice. "Could you… teach me?"
Julia's answering smile was wide, warm, full of encouragement. "I would be happy to teach you what I know, William," she said softly, the promise clear in her eyes. "But understand, it won't be easy. It will demand patience, likely more than you're used to exercising, intense focus, and a willingness to embrace… a different kind of system, one not always defined by pure logic." Her tone shifted then, back to the pragmatic present, her gaze flicking towards the cave mouth. "But first," she added, her expression turning serious once more, "we absolutely need to find Edward. And get word to the Adventurers Guild in Sharwood. Reporting what we encountered, especially those goblin scouts… confirming their presence this far south is vital, and deeply unsettling."