There was something wrong. Horrifically wrong.

Dahlan floated through space, hundreds of variations of Gravin tut-tutting him and gyrating uncontrollably midair. Beside him, Ydephr angrily shouted, "Why are you being naughty? Stop it!" As he tumbled through the black air, pressure gradually began to increase on his chest.

It slowly became harder and harder to breathe. He was distracted as a massive arm loomed out of the darkness, drowning out the lectures of the Gravins with a growing scream, a deathly shriek that pierced Dahlan straight through to his core. It clutched at him, snatching at the blackness in an attempt to pull him away.

Dahlan's eyes snapped open as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. He was staring at the ceiling of his room, but there was still great pressure on his chest. Looking down, he saw Gent's snoring body curled up on his chest. It would have been cute if he wasn't running out of air, and black spots began darting across his vision.

Sitting up, he dislodged the drake from his sleeping position, and Gent woke up with a start. Looking around in shock, he gazed up at the sweating Dahlan and gave him a confused growl. Sucking air into his oxygen-starved lungs, Dahlan managed a smile. "Good morning, Gent. Maybe don't do that next time."

He'd had a weird dream, he was sure of it. He just couldn't remember any of it. Whatever it was, he was distracted by an incredible scent floating through the air. It held promises of spiced meat and biscuits and rubinidine.

Rubbing his dry eyes, Dahlan got out of bed and made a small nest of blankets, tucking his pillow into the bottom of it. Gent pounced into it, using his needle-like teeth to pull the warm coverings onto himself and curling up with only his eyes glinting out from underneath the pile.

Heading into the dining room, Dahlan found Gravin setting up an excellent breakfast of heavily seared crab, the biscuits Dahlan's nose had promised him, and a pitcher full of rubinidine. "What's the occasion?"

Gravin looked up at him with an unexpected smile. "Good morning, Dahlan. If you're going to learn magic, it'd be best if you have a full stomach."

The events of yesterday caught up to Dahlan all at once, and he tentatively sat down. "So..." He poured himself a cup of rubinidine, taking a careful sip of the tangy liquid. "What are we doing?"

Taking a seat, Gravin took some crab and put it next to his biscuits, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Heat manipulation, of course. The most basic possible spell a salamancer can perform. And don't worry, I won't hold you to my own standards."

Dahlan froze with a biscuit halfway to his mouth. "But..."

Gravin's eyes flicked up to meet Dahlan's as he carved a piece of crab onto his plate. "Is something the matter?"

Delicately putting the steaming food back on his plate, Dahlan asked, "I'm not a salamander." Gravin paused briefly, but kept eating at a slower pace. Dahlan continued, "How do I be a salamancer?"

Washing the bite of crab down with some rubinidine, Gravin steepled his fingers on the table. "Dahlan, insofar as I know, there is no spell that is exclusive to any given species." Dahlan's eyes widened, and Gravin continued. "I can see how you might have come to that conclusion, but not even dragons are immune to this rule: that any spell can be performed by anyone, so long as you put the appropriate work in. Granted, some might be more difficult than others; for example, the eldritch planes possess incredible summoning magic, but their language is nigh impossible to learn for mortal beings. Ergo, a translation method must be acquired. In the case of salamancy, however, it requires no language at all. Your willpower, knowledge, precision, and mana are the only things that matter; higher-grade augments, such as drake-type transformancy, are an exception to this rule."

Dahlan tried to process all of that. Gravin had a habit of talking quickly and clearly, and it was sometimes hard to follow along. Gravin began eating again, and Dahlan opted to wait until later. He had a feeling most of it was going to be repeated anyway, so he decided to eat now and magic later.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Dahlan was standing in the backyard, Gravin across from him. There was also a long, narrow package nearby, but all of Dahlan's attention was solely focused on his father. He hadn't had much experience casting magic on his own, and compared to Gravin's tendency to literally perfect every spell he learned... he'd hidden every attempt he'd made at magic when putting it up against him.

Gravin began untying his robes, talking as he did. "Many people consider magic to be a simple thing, believing that observing a mage in action is enough to replicate his abilities. They are wrong."

Dahlan's eyes widened as Gravin folded his robes neatly, putting them aside. The salamander was lean, and while he was far from the pinnacle of masculinity, there was a significant amount of muscle under his orange skin. He now wore a simple pair of pants, leaving his tail to slowly swing from side to side.

"Magic and mana are not exclusively in the mind; every muscle, every vein, every organ in your body must be involved if your magic is to have much effect at all. I myself was blessed with a good body. It is never easy to attain great strength, but some find it harder than others. It is that physical strength that will help not only with your casting, but when you are unable to use magic." He reached down and opened the wrapped object, removing them from the skins they'd been wrapped in.

They were weapons, Dahlan could tell that much. A staff almost equaling Gravin's height, with three-quarters of a hollow hexagon measuring a foot across placed at the tip. The inside of the hexagon was wide, but the outside looked razor-sharp. The blade itself appeared to be made of stone, crimson veins of glowing energy pulsing throughout its entirety. The second one was nearly identical but much shorter. "This," Gravin began, "is called a caryva. It is a traditional weapon of the ancient salamancers, and can be used to great effect should its user know how to appropriately wield it. Not only is it a vicious melee weapon, but it can be an effective casting focus as well."

Dahlan raised his hand. It was impossible for even Qyora to talk over Gravin once he got going, so gestures had to be used to get his attention. Gravin turned to look at him, a caryva in each hand. "Yes?"

"What's a focus?" Dahlan had a feeling it was a basic sort of equipment, and he could guess as to what it did, but there was no point in hindering himself later on if he could avoid any confusion by just asking.

Gravin seemed to share the sentiment. "A focus is an object or tool used to concentrate mana. Stone, metal, and certain gemstones are easier to channel mana through than one's own blood, due in part to their relative complexity. Of course, your mana must pass through your arms to the staves, but sending it from one location to another is far simpler than exuding it from your hands or legs and shaping it there. Of course, some materials are better than others at channeling mana. For example, Brimtown's stone is a remarkably good conductant. Do you understand all of that?"

Dahlan understood most of it, so he nodded. Gravin held two fingers over the edge of the smaller caryva, and his eyes glowed as he traced the full edge. A barely visible sheen of iridescence formed over it, and he ran the blade over his bare hand. Before Dahlan could object, Gravin held his palm up to show that it was uninjured. "A very helpful spell that temporarily dulls the blade. According to Maida, it's a type of metallurgy. I myself consider it to be a type of terramancy, but I suppose he would know better. Regardless, it should prove sufficient for what we'll be doing today."

He handed the caryva to Dahlan, and the young boy nearly fell over under its weight. It was much heavier than he'd anticipated, and it took him a few awkward seconds to hold it correctly. Once its blade was out in front of him, he discovered it to be excellently balanced. Putting his hands in the right places didn't remove the weight, but it made it easier to manage.

Gravin nodded approvingly at Dahlan, holding his own caryva one-handed at his side. "As I mentioned previously, you'll be casting a simple heat manipulation spell. Are you ready?"

He had no idea. Dahlan was glad for his loose clothing, because his trembling legs would have been obvious otherwise. All his prior attempts at magic had ended badly, but at least they'd been in private. If he messed up here, it would be in front of Gravin, and words failed to describe how worried he was about that.

Despite his terror, he nodded, and Gravin's expression grew serious. "The first step to casting any spell is identifying your mana. Can you do that?"

Dahlan knew how to do that. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and searched inward. Allowing the tension to drain out of his shoulders, he sucked an inward breath through his nose and slowly released it through his mouth. As the stress gradually left him, he felt a warm ball of gently rippling energy hovering in the center of his ribcage. Eyes still shut, he said, "I found it."

He could hear the smile in Gravin's voice. "Good job! I see you've done this before. Remember, it is not a part of you, but it isn't a part of the world either. It is simply there. Now, move it. Focus it outward, feeling it move throughout your arms vein by vein to the caryva. Notice the cold feeling of the stone against your palms, and then... push."

Dahlan did as Gravin asked, and felt the ball split. Strands of it spread outward, coiling around the inside of his arms and moving forward. It was harder and harder to move as it went further away from his heart, and it took all of Dahlan's willpower to direct it to the weapon in his hands. The instant the rapidly thinning mana touched the caryva's surface, it drained from him. His eyes were forced open from the sudden drop in stamina, and he nearly fell over.

Gravin applauded. "Excellent! You've definitely done this before. Now, take a moment to recover. Think of your mana pool as a muscle. The more you use it, exercise it, the easier it will be to move it where you will and the more mana you'll have available. Think of it not as a sprint, but a marathon. How does one eat a dragon?"

Using the caryva as an impromptu walking stick, Dahlan straightened, panting from the exertion. "One... One bite at a time."

"Exactly." Gravin indicated Dahlan's caryva. "Now look at the fruits of your labor, minute though they might be."

Looking up to the oddly shaped blade, Dahlan saw a twisting ribbon of green light. It moved and spun, nearly dancing along the edge of the caryva without ever leaving it. He smiled tiredly, trying to keep his eyes open. "Is that... mine?"

Gravin nodded. "It certainly is. Now, in the same way as you found your pool, search for the mana inside the caryva."

Dahlan pushed once again, and this time felt it immediately. The caryva was like nothing Dahlan had ever touched before, like the most distant thing from warmth imaginable. He shivered in spite of himself. "Why is it so cold?"

"We're not sure." Gravin's statement was blunt, with a slight edge of irritation. "An entire village of scholars and magicians and we can't figure out why focoi react in such a curious way. Regardless, the cold is only in your mind. Now, what I want you to do is speed it up."

"What?" Dahlan's forehead scrunched. "But-" He clamped his mouth shut. This was the first time he'd ever done anything involving magic with Gravin as opposed to watching him. He couldn't mess it up.

Squeezing the caryva, he focused on the mana inside it, trying to ignore the frost creeping into his mind. He tried to push it, and his hold on it slipped. Stumbling, he tripped, and a green flash of light tore from the caryva's blade at Gravin, ripping Dahlan's magic along with it. Without flinching, Gravin swept his own caryva upward and caught the ray with the inside of the hexagon, and the spell bounced around in an iridescent orb inside before winking out in a shower of sparks.

Dahlan doubled over, the caryva falling from his grasp. Everything inside him hurt, freezing and throbbing in a way he'd never imagined. His mana pool spiked, sending ridged pulses of angry mana through his veins before suddenly darting to his forehead. His vision darkened, and he collapsed in a heap.

As his consciousness returned, he became aware of a pressure in the center of his chest. Gravin had his palm outstretched over Dahlan's ribcage, eyes glazed as he muttered inaudible. Spirals and whorls of heatless flame flickered over Dahlan's skin, sinking below the surface and dissipating. The cold and pain receded abruptly, retreating into Dahlan's mana pool and diffusing, concentrating and shrinking until he couldn't feel it anymore, and he took his first breath in what felt like minutes.

He lay there for a long moment, chest heaving as he pulled air into his starved lungs for the second time that day. Tears sprang unbidden from his eyes, but he couldn't summon the strength to cover his face. His arms weren't moving at all. Hot shame crept up his cheeks, and he stared straight up at the distant cavern ceiling.

He'd failed in spectacular fashion. If he couldn't do something as simple as making magic move a little faster, then everything else was far out of reach. And worst of all, it'd happened in front of Gravin. He couldn't imagine a nightmare worse than this.

Gravin scooped him up with all the ease of retrieving an errant drake and headed inside. "Dahlan... there's something very important I want you to know." His voice was adamantly serious, without the slightest hint of humor in it.

Dahlan braced for the worst.

"You can always ask if you don't understand something."

Dahlan's eyes snapped open, and he looked up at his father. Gravin was staring down at him, infinite sympathy in his eyes. "I don't expect you to get the hang of everything on your first try. You don't have to be perfect. You don't even have to learn magic if you don't want to. It would make no difference to me whether you became the greatest magician the world had ever seen or if you decided to become a crab farmer. There is nothing you could do that would ever cease to make me proud of you, because whatever you choose to do would be something you wanted to do. Do you understand?"

Shifting his grip, Gravin pulled Dahlan into a hug, tucking him over his shoulder. Dahlan could barely move his arms, but he still managed to put them around Gravin's neck. He couldn't stop the flow of tears, but... it didn't matter. Gravin wasn't going to get upset if Dahlan cried a little. It was embarrassing that it'd taken Dahlan so long to realize that the standards he held himself up to were higher than anyone could achieve.

He knew why he tried to steal Urph's bread now. It wasn't because he was good at it. It was because he was bad at it. If he could just draw everyone's attention to how terrible he was at thieving, then nobody would notice how bad he was at magic.

It didn't matter. The only opinion that truly mattered to Dahlan didn't care if he was bad at magic. Gravin only cared if he was alright.

He fell asleep on Gravin's shoulder, arms numb, nervous system tingling, and heart warm.