For the next few hours Arden analyzed what he had felt. There was a warmth, a pull, and an abstract visual element. Perhaps those were the three main elements he needed to explore to find his own way. Temperature, direction and a visual, it was a start.
Temperature seemed the easiest, so that is where he began. First, he recalled the feeling of Erebus. Warm like the sun’s rays on a hardwood floor in the mid morning. Calming, makes one lower their guard a bit. He felt it in his fingertips this time. Slowly Arden touched each finger to his thumb in a rhythmic pattern, getting used to it. What feeling would feel more natural to him? He pondered for a bit, recalling a feeling that might be nostalgic, or one that might stick out to him as being crucial to him.
He wondered if it had to be a warm feeling, or could it be cool? Could it be lukewarm, or room temperature? Could it be burning hot or freezing cold? Arden thought for a moment, pondering the possibilities. Was Erebus’ magic warm, because it was provided in such a small amount? It seemed unlikely but he could not rule out the possibility.
Arden stuck to warm feelings for the time being because they felt more comforting to him than cold. It was a gut reaction but something told him that magic came from the gut, so he pursued it. What warm feelings made him feel more than just passive? Arden continued to tap his fingers, never letting the magic stop flowing, hoping he would sense a change if he stumbled upon something useful. What did he associate with warmth? Wool, blankets, the sun, animals, his mother, Erebus, and fire. He felt the smallest flicker in his index finger. Fire? There it was again, but fainter this time.
It was a lead, and Arden ran with it. What types of fire? A hearth, a lantern, a torch, wildfire, each one bringing different memories and varying types of heat. None of which felt right, the twinkle in his finger reduced to the weak imitation of Erebus. Arden scoured his brain for clues and any other type of fire he encountered, until his brain came to a halt. Which was very rare for Arden, and it took him a moment to adjust to the calm.
Candle fire.
The tingle in his finger grew stronger and did not waver this time. Small but warm, the flame dancing in the air, always in danger of being blown out. Arden chuckled to himself at the irony. A weak flame, for a weak human trying to learn demon magic. The feelings wavered slightly every once and a while, but came back without fail. His flame of magic dancing in the wind.
Arden stared at his hand in awe, pleased at the progress, but he knew that this was going to be the easiest feeling to uncover. The other two were much more vague, and could be interpreted in many ways. He reduced the ‘pulling’ feeling to a verb. He had to be able to describe his magic with a verb. His mind reopened to the floodgates, and he was consumed in thought once more. What do I do? He thought to himself. He cleaned, he wrote, he pondered, he walked. He could think of endless verbs to describe his day-to-day activities. This was getting him nowhere.
He finished up his work and traveled to the garden, hoping that the fresh air and remaining sunlight would help him find meaning in his scrambled thoughts. Perhaps he was not approaching it from the right direction. Arden went back to the root of the feeling. The feeling of falling asleep before consciousness is fully lost. Perhaps it is not simply the “pull” he must focus on, but other subconscious feelings.
Arden’s frustration grew as none of his leads seemed to lead anywhere. There were endless interpretations, feelings, and ideas that could relate to what he felt from Erebus’ magic. He wished he knew more about Erebus, to know how the feeling might relate to him. Did he suffer from insomnia? Did he take frequent naps? Is his magic somehow focused on a dream-related theme?
This idea brought with it another brief calm in Arden’s overactive brain. Dreaming and sleep could be connected to all three of the feelings. The cozy warmth, the pull of sleep, and the sparks of light behind your eyes. With that his mind awakened again on a new tangent.
Arden was sure that his warmth was that of a candle. Perhaps his second feeling was associated with writing. The more his mind cycled the more he felt his fingers buzz. Each word or phrase that he considered flashed before him as he dismissed each one. The feeling in his fingers never changed, and his frustration grew.
He opened his eyes for a moment to attempt to calm his mind. He watched the flowers sway in the wind, and the gardeners gently caring for the other sections of the garden. His fingers seemed to calm.
Curious.
The warmth from the candle light stayed, but the buzzing he felt dissipated. Hesitantly, Arden let his mind become consumed once more. He had a theory and as his mind released an avalanche of thoughts, he felt it again. The hum returned in his fingertips, joining the flickering warmth of the candle.
Instead of the pull of sleep, his magic felt like a chaotic bombardment of theories and questions. Arden wasn’t sure how to feel about the sporadic nature of these first two conclusions, but it was a start. Perhaps with time, he can refine them into something more steadfast and reliable.
Arden was exhausted. Discovering the nature of these two elements had taken hours. His mind had not stopped for the majority of those hours, and all he wanted to do was sleep. The third feeling could wait until tomorrow, surely Erebus did not expect him to master it all in one night. Or did he? Would his decision to leave the last part for tomorrow show Erebus that Arden was not serious enough? Would that be grounds to stop lessons? His hands slid down his face attempting to soothe his racing heart. Arden knew that he would not sleep tonight without figuring out the final piece of the puzzle. His mind would not rest until it was done, and he could confidently show Erebus his progress.
With frustration, he decided to return to his room and catalog his findings thus far, before delving further into it.
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