Madwen continued to stare for a few more seconds, but then her lips quirked up into a grin, though it didn’t quite match the continued intensity shining from her eyes. “I’d like to think I’m normally a good judge of character, of someone’s underlying personality and aptitude,” she said, slowly entering the room. “It’s done me wonders in my line of work, dealing with all sorts of folks from Mundanes and novices new to their abilities up to hungry monsters who’d think little of harvesting entire worlds and systems to get one step further along their path. Now, I would have wagered you were a young man trapped in deep waters, largely unaware of how our reality functions.” She stopped in front of him; her eyebrows peaked with curiosity. “So imagine my surprise when you not only completed an inscription but also produced all of these,” and she gestured with a hand, swirling it lazily in a circle.

A spell paper materialized in the air near her hand, behind it more and more appearing in quick succession until there was a long line of pages hovering in the air. Eli immediately recognized the sheets he’d been working with for weeks. The one in front even had a slight dark spot from where he’d put too much pressure during his first experiment.

“Uh, you were watching?” he asked somewhat self-consciously, aware of how many times he’d blown himself up with his ham-fisted attempts.

“No, of course not. Any recording, scrying, or visual mediums would disrupt the nishati’s careful calibration. I tracked your progress through your work,” Madwen replied, waving a hand at the floating white papers. “So my question for you, Eli,” she stepped closer, invading his personal space while looking at him with the same intense curiosity. “Are you a talented deceiver or truly as unusual as you appear to be?”

Instead of retreating from this intimidating woman, he met her eyes, trying to inject sincerity into his words and expression. “Madwen, I am who I am. I don’t think I’d have said I was too unusual from the average person, but maybe that’s no longer true since I was yanked from my world,” he replied quietly.

“That makes me wonder what the rest of your people are like if you consider yourself average,” she responded with a hint of humor. “But I’m not here to interrogate you but to evaluate your work.”

She walked past him and over to the dark stone block, peering down at the white page covered in swirling rainbow-colored lines. “Hmmm, your figures are rough but passable. Decent curvatures without too much pressure, though you clearly had an issue here,” she pointed at one of his problem areas where he’d left a thick drop of multicolored energy. He’d blown himself up probably a few dozen times before figuring out how to imprint the visual image of the fireball into the page. “And you rushed the intersections here,” she continued, pointing at where the lines crossed over each other. “But the restrictions and criteria are sound, if a bit basic. Taken together, a passable example of an elemental spell, though, you’ll need to consider what would happen if your target was mobile and dodged your attack. Further, there’s apparently no thought given to energy blowback from shields or safety considerations such as minimum distances,” she finished, frowning at his work.

“So does that mean I passed?” he asked, concerned that he’d somehow failed at the end.

“This is just the kind of inscription I’d expect from an apprentice,” she said, her frown transforming into a beaming smile below eyes filled with excitement like when they’d ascended on the Lofty Lift. “And let me be the first to congratulate you, Inscription Apprentice.”

Eli sighed with relief, the tension evaporating as his shoulders sagged. After the hundreds of subjective hours he’d put into this swirling shape that looked like nothing more than some toddler’s doodling, it felt almost surreal to realize he’d done it. Somehow, he’d created a fireball spell scroll.

“Now, be sure you continue practicing,” she said, her words pulling him from his wonder. “These skills require well-ingrained habits following a steady hand and clear thoughts. There are limits to many things within the Greater Infinite, but most reside only within our own minds. You’ll need to learn where those boundaries are and how to move past them.”

“Practice outside the simulation?” he asked with a touch of horror. “Madwen, I appreciate your encouragement, but I would have killed myself hundreds of times if I’d tried this on my own.”

Her sudden laughter surprised him, the contagious sound cutting through the fear that had erupted with her previous suggestion. “Eli, this is a simulacrum. The explosions are a part of the learning process, just like the rest. No one could inscribe if the smallest mistake killed the practitioner. In reality, your failures would do little more than burn your resources as the spell paper ignited.” She pointed to the rainbow drop he’d had so much trouble with. “Perhaps that would create the worst reaction, but even that would do little more than singe your eyebrows.”

“Ohhhhh,” he said with sudden understanding, his fresh relief making him almost lightheaded. Her words also brought up another thought that had repeatedly nagged at him. “Since I passed, can you please explain how inscriptions work? There’s so much I don’t understand.”

Madwen shook her head as if unable to believe his words. “Eli, there’s not enough energy within this tome to give you the kind of explanation you deserve. You’ll need to find much of your answers elsewhere. Still, in honor of your new apprenticeship, I’ll spend the little time left trying to reward your efforts with some knowledge.”

She gestured, her hand almost lazily swirling through the air before her. Eli felt dizzy, but it passed almost immediately. A glance behind him confirmed that the nishati table, paper, and stylus were gone. They were back in the blank white space, but the walls already had minute little cracks running throughout. Beside her, the stack of his failed spell pages still hung suspended in the air.

“We can talk for a bit longer in here without running the rest of the simulacrum,” Madwen said with satisfaction, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Now, to address your question, inscribing is the act of carving your own wishes and directions into an excited medium. It can be used on different materials, the more powerful it is, the greater the possible outcome, but you’ll need to discover most of those later. In this case, a spell paper is like a little sliver of reality energized with mana,” she pointed to the floating pages. “When you activate it, usually by ripping it in half, you release your commands into the Greater Infinite – transposing it if you will. Even more, you’re combining your vital energy with the primordial cosmos, all intertwined while merging them into a flimsy sheet. All this power is only held together by the constraints you’ve imparted during the inscription process. If your will isn’t strong enough, or your restrictions are lacking, it fails and destroys your hard work. But when done correctly, you manifest wonders,” she finished in almost a whisper, her eyes lighting up with the possibilities.

“Okay, I think I understand most of that,” he replied, finding himself nodding at her words, but a bigger question intruded. It had been bugging him since nearly the beginning of this whole adventure. “I know this might sound stupid,” he began, aware of his ignorance. “But how does magic work? What is the energy inside me, and how is it related to the mana?”

Madwen stared for a few moments, seemingly baffled by his questions. She frowned slightly, her eyebrows scrunching above clear blue eyes pinning him with their scrutiny. “Of all the questions I expected, I’ll admit that those were not on my list. To come so far with so little understanding,” she said, her grin reemerging as she slowly shook her head.

“Magic, as you call it, is just another name for something supernatural that defies reality. It is a convenient way to get around trying to understand the natural world, though I’ll admit it can be a useful descriptor.” Her voice had taken on a carefully patient tone as if she’d had to explain this concept more than a few times. “The power inside you isn’t magic but simply another form of energy production. Human bodies produce different forms of energy, but the simplest is one shared with most other forms of life. In this case, it’s through respiration in conjunction with ingesting compatible fuel. You’ve heard of this?”

“Yeah, breathing and eating food are pretty clear, but what about this glowing ball in my chest? Before a month ago, I’m pretty sure I didn’t have one.”

Her look was almost pitying for a moment, quickly shifting to a more neutral expression. “Eli, of course, you’ve always had your vitality centrum. It goes by many names: quintessence, dantian, chakra, ionad, energy core, and a myriad more. There are probably as many names as species in the Greater Infinite, but the point is that nearly all known sentient creatures have some form of this organ within their bodies. Since you’re human, seemingly sprung from the same template as countless others, I have a hard time imagining otherwise.

“There is also energy within the world around us,” she continued, waving her hand lazily through the air. “Like the vitality centrum, it goes by many names, but mana is the most popular within the human sphere. Your body absorbs minute quantities of this energy through the normal course of your life, like eating, breathing, or just existing within a mana-rich environment. There are better ways, but they’d take far too long to explain with the little time we have, and doing it wrong can lead to dire consequences.”

With her reminder, Eli glanced over her shoulder at the growing cracks within the walls around them. He didn’t know how much time they had but figured it couldn’t be long at the pace the fissures were growing.

“Now,” Madwen continued, grabbing his attention again. “Always remember, mana in its purest form is destructive to a mortal’s internal tissues. If you want to utilize it within your body, always be sure to run the mana through your centrum first. That way, the centrum can convert the mana into usable energy, similar to how some of your other organs filter out dangerous toxins.”

“Okay,” Eli slowly replied, puzzle pieces from various mysteries coming together in his mind. “My core, or centrum, takes the mana and converts it into another energy. What happens if I pushed mana directly into my muscles,” he asked, remembering that night when he tried replicating the Mana Candy’s attributes.

She snorted, a laugh trying to escape. “If someone were to do something so foolish, and they didn’t have a convenient way to repair the damage, say by evolving soon after, they’d likely perish the first time they depleted their centrum’s energy stores.” Her hand waved from his feet to the crown of his head. “Presumably, that’s how you achieved such a strong form since the telltale signs are within the makeup of your tissues. While mana tempering isn’t unknown, few choose to go through the risks inherent with such a course of action.”

“Oh. But then how did my evolution fix it?” Eli asked. “What even is an evolution in this context? I understand the scientific term, but it seems to mean something different here.”

Madwen frowned at the walls, the cracks starting to vibrate, before returning her attention to him. “I don’t suppose you completed that Trial of Might? Perhaps you have a counselor?”

“I did, and I do, actually,” he replied, confused at the seeming non sequitur. He idly wondered what Fluxi would think of Madwen, guessing that the two would probably get along like a house on fire.

“Excellent!” Her smile was back, her eyes twinkling for a moment. “Then I’d recommend asking them some of these fundamental questions. In the meantime, I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“Yes.” Her face grew serious, a bit of the humor evaporating from her expression. “Once you’ve reached at least Low Prime and achieved your first Mastery, find the real me, the original Magus Madwen.”

“Find you? But how would I do that? Where would I even look?” Another disquieting thought followed, and he hesitated but finally decided it had to be said. “Madwen, how can you be sure she’s alive for me to find?” almost wincing at the blunt question.

Her grin bloomed with the resurgent emotions sweeping her solemn expression away. “Because you are here within this simulacrum. When I invented this type of tome, I did it with the help of some powerful beings using carefully guarded secrets. To protect these hidden techniques, I had to make binding agreements, including building a failsafe that would destroy all of the tomes upon my death. All of this,” she waved at the cracking walls around them. “Would have dissolved into the Greater Infinite if the original Madwen had died. So that’s how I know that she’s out there somewhere for you to find.”

A wave of relief flooded Eli, his smile now nearly a match for hers. He’d been wondering about the fate of the original for weeks while within the simulacrum. He’d spent countless hours reviewing their conversation for clues on how to do inscriptions, replaying each moment for the tiniest shred of data. She almost felt like a friend at this point, and he had absolutely no doubt that he wouldn’t have succeeded without the hints she’d dropped during the tour.

It also raised another question he’d worried over. “Madwen, what happens to you when this tome dissolves? Will you be okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Eli. I’ll be fine. A personality as wondrous as mine isn’t done in so easily.” She threw him a jaunty wink. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Another surge of relief coursed through him, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding while awaiting her response. “Then I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to meet another Madwen, even if she isn’t quite as amazing as you,” he added with a grin.

“You’ll find I’m not immune to flattery,” she laughed. “But listen carefully,” and she stepped closer as a hum started, joining the shaking around them. “When you meet the original, introduce yourself as Silverlight.” She lifted a hand to stop him from asking the questions already bubbling up in the back of his head. “It’s a code that she’ll understand. It’s for security, along the same lines as those that required the failsafe.”

“Silverlight. Got it,” he responded, raising his voice to carry over the noise.

She cupped her hands before her, the room quieting for a moment as if taking a final breath. “Be well, Eli. May you find the knowledge you seek.” And she nodded with a solemn expression.

“Be well, Magus Madwen.” But he couldn’t help adding, “Until we meet again,” and throwing her a grin. Her face was only beginning to light up with another smile before the world flashed white.