Smoke trailed up into the dark red sky around Scarlett as she and Rosa walked through the ruins of Freymeadow. They passed body after body—the charred remains of the people that had lived here—and what traces were left of the villagers’ daily lives. Burnt tools, hammers, clothes, toys, and much more were strewn around the streets.

No matter the ambivalence Scarlett felt regarding the horror of the scene itself, this would never grow to be a pleasant sight.

The two of them moved quietly this time, as they proceeded deeper into the dying village. Rosa’s hard expression spoke magnitudes of her thoughts at witnessing all of this once more. Yet she had still chosen to join her, despite that.

It spoke of an impressive determination in and of its own. Probably more than Scarlett would have had, were their positions reversed.

Eventually, they reached the village center. The same sight as the previous time they’d been here met them, with piles of scorched corpses spread around the area like a scene from a nightmare. In the middle of this was the burning wooden platform with the strange black stand on top of it, falling into the broken planks beneath it.

Arlene was kneeling on the ground close to the platform, back turned towards them as her raven-black hair covered her trembling shoulders.

Rosa sent Scarlett a wordless look, and the two of them started walking over towards the woman, sidestepping the bodies that blocked the way. Arlene didn’t notice them at first, head aimed down at the ground. Scarlett circled and stopped in front of her.

“…Is there really nothing we can do?” Rosa almost whispered as she halted next to Scarlett. She gazed down at the woman.

“There is not,” Scarlett answered.

Arlene’s shoulders stilled. Slowly, she turned up to look at them, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes locked on to Scarlett, filled with a mix of rage and anguish.

Several silent seconds passed, and soon, red embers bloomed into existence around them, floating gently through the air. A faint haze followed, spreading across the square and moving to envelop the three of them. As it neared, it turned denser, like a fog, and their surroundings morphed. Soon, strokes of colors and shapes filled the world as things changed.

Just like last time, the square and all the bodies were soon gone, leaving only Arlene with them. The woman’s gaze was locked on Scarlett until the very last second, then she, too, was absorbed into the web of colors that inched in around them.

For a brief while, there was nothing but quietness. Then the colors became clearer, taking on the hues of a forest in autumn. The firmament of the changing world finally locked into place, and both Scarlett and Rosa found themselves back in the clearing outside the village. Shin, Allyssa, and Fynn were all waiting nearby.

Scarlett gave the three of them a short nod before turning back to Rosa. “With that concluded, shall we continue?”

Scarlett took several deep breaths as she raised a flask to her mouth and took a deep swig of the water inside. The cool liquid felt nice as it soothed her parched throat.

The cyclical nature of Freymeadow, where it repeated the same days over and over again, certainly had its fair share of benefits for someone like her, and in many ways, it surpassed any other treasure she could get her hands on. She was very grateful that she had access to it like she did, and she knew she wasn’t in a position to complain. That said, she really wished it didn’t have to be summer here all the time.

It got tiring real quick. Especially when all you did was train with literal fire magic.

At the moment, she was sitting up on the porch along with Arlene, making good use of the magical air conditioning up here. She had spent the previous few hours moving back and forth between these rest sessions and her practicing sessions, and she was starting to feel the wear.

Rosa was god-knows-where, having already been convinced by—or convinced—the village children to go off on some adventure or other. She didn’t pay too much attention to what the bard did as long as she refilled her [Depraved Solitude’s Choker] when necessary.

Their current loop would be the third one here in Freymeadow, and it had started much like the other ones. After going through the last day of the previous loop, Scarlett and Rosa had entered the village again earlier today, where she had introduced herself to Arlene in the exact same way as the previous times, asking the woman to take her as a disciple. And just like before, the woman had denied her request.

She had to admit, she’d thought there was a chance of succeeding this time. But apparently, she still wasn’t up to standard for Arlene.

Inadvertently, she found herself glancing over at the woman. The woman’s straight, dark hair hung gently over her shoulders as her head was turned down at the book lying on her lap, its pages partly concealed by the raised cover.

“Is there something you want to say?” the woman asked, not looking up from the book. “You keep looking at me, and I don’t think it’s only because you’re appreciating my face.”

Scarlett blinked. Did she have eyes on the side of her head or something?

Staying silent for a while, unsure of what to respond, Scarlett eventually decided on an avenue of approach. It was related to something that had caught her awareness.

“Merely some curiosity on my part,” she said. “It did not escape my notice that you were paying attention to my earlier practice sessions. Despite previously having expressed no interest in my affairs here, I saw you observing me on more than one occasion. Could it be that you have changed your mind after seeing what I am capable of?”

“I took a few peeks, yes.” Arlene gave a slow nod. “But I wouldn’t say I saw anything particularly noteworthy.”

“No? Then, if not, what did you see?”

The woman turned a page in her book. “You’re asking what I think of what I saw?”

“Yes. I am still in the process of familiarising myself with my magic. It is only recently that I have come to understand that what I am doing could be considered different from ‘normal’ pyrokinesis.”

“I can tell,” Arlene replied. There was slight amusement in her voice.

“I have been told that I focus too much on the minutiae.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. Whoever taught you magic was a fool.”

“I am self-taught.”

“Then I suppose you are the fool.”

Scarlett frowned, biting back her response. What was she supposed to say to that?

Arlene turned away from the book. She looked at her. “An ignorant fool is still a fool, like any other. If a healer fails to save a patient because they didn’t recognize an illness, then that patient still dies. The healer’s ignorance simply serves as an excuse for why the fault doesn’t entirely lie with her.”

The woman studied her for a moment, then shifted her gaze out across the village square. “I don’t mean to offend you, but it’s the truth. Intent has always been subordinate to results. Taking it into consideration has and always will be a privilege. One that too many squander.”

A heavy atmosphere fell over the space between them as Arlene went silent.

“…I am not here to challenge your opinion regarding my skills,” Scarlett eventually said. “Quite the opposite, in fact. But what, would you say, is it that I am ignorant about, first and foremost?”

The woman turned back to her, staying quiet for a few more seconds as she seemed to consider her. “It depends. Are you talking about in regard to your use of true pyrokinesis, or your magic in general?”

“Both.”

“…Then we’ll start with your outlook.”

Arlene waved her hand, and a flame appeared in the air between them. “To begin with, note how I’ve separated the mana here to—”

“I cannot see the mana of your flame,” Scarlett said. “I can only sense the compositional structure of my own magic.”

The woman paused, sending a long look towards her. Then she waved her hand again, and the flame split into dozens of thin, fiery strands that started moving around each other in complex patterns. “We’ll do it like this instead, then.”

Scarlett observed the flames dance for a while.

“The very first thing one has to understand with magic is that, as a discipline, it requires an exhaustive and holistic perspective to be properly understood,” Arlene explained. “This demands a method of thinking that is difficult for most people. It can be unintuitive, strange, and sometimes even blasphemous to some. But nevertheless, it’s necessary. It might be possible to become a mage without it—you can always learn the spells by relying on rote memorization—but you will never become a wizard without it.”

Scarlett watched as the strands moved faster and faster around each other, forming a complicated mesh that became almost impossible to follow. A wave of warmth washed over her, like someone had turned on a heating fan.

Arlene gestured towards the flames. “Explain to me how this works.”

Scarlett knitted her brows. If she knew that, she wouldn’t be seeking help like this.

“This is not a spell, if that is what you’re thinking,” the woman added. “It’s a basic application of pyrokinesis. Nothing more. What I am asking you to do is tell me why it had the effect that it did, not how I shaped the mana itself.”

“…I presume there is a purpose to the specific movements?” Scarlett asked.

“Of course there is.”

She observed the array of shifting flames even closer. Was it literally just functioning like a heating fan, then? It didn’t look or spin like a fan. Was there some other magical bullshit involved as well?

“…If I were to present a hypothesis,” she began, “it would be that the movements of the fire act to circulate the surrounding air, heating it in the process as it sends the air towards me.”

That felt like saying it’s warm because it’s hot, but it was about as descriptive as she could be. She didn’t actually remember how heating fans worked—she had honestly never bothered consciously thinking about it—but they couldn’t be that complicated, could they? It was a fan with a radiator in front of it, basically.

“That’s close enough to what the purpose is,” Arlene said. “And the purpose is always one of the most important things to know when dealing with magic. Oftentimes, it might appear to be the most obvious factor, but that’s only when you’re looking at things from above. When you’re creating your own spells or working with pyrokinesis, you don’t always have that luxury.”

“If that is the purpose, are you instead asking me how the specific movements of these flames create this effect?” Scarlett asked.

“Essentially.” The woman nodded, giving her a scrutinising look. “Do you know?”

“…I do not.”

The flames disappeared, as did the warm air that had been bearing down on Scarlett.

“Good,” Arlene said.

“Why is that good?”

“Because trying to understand why it worked as it did is a fool’s errand,” Arlene answered. “It’s possible, yes. I know how it works, for example. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to replicate the effect only using pyrokinesis. But that was only possible because this was—on the grand scale of things—an incredibly simple application of it. I just warmed up some air and sent it your way. Despite that, you would have to search around for a long time to find any other wizard capable of even that much. Had I instead tried to heat all of the air to the exact same temperature, and tried to send it your way so that every single part of you was hit by the same intensity of warmth, it would be several orders of degree more difficult to recreate. Practically impossible. There are spells that do that, though.”

“…This much I already understand,” Scarlett said, recalling the similar words the woman had told her in previous loops. “In my own attempts, I have realized the difficulty of attempting to control and focus too much on every single detail of the parts that constitute my magic. What I have yet to understand, however, is how one is supposed to achieve greater feats through pyrokinesis without knowing how the underlying building blocks function. Originally, I thought that intent was perhaps enough to fashion one’s magic according to one’s wishes, but I have been led to believe there are better ways.”

Arlene studied her for a moment. “Why would you need to understand how these building blocks work?”

“In order to manipulate them in a fashion that fits my goal.”

“You don’t think you can otherwise?”

“Perhaps I can, but it would be easier if I understood them, no? You do not attempt to write a letter without understanding letters first.”

The woman gestured in front of her. “If you tie a knot out of a piece of rope, one as long as you are tall, how would you go about untying it?”

Scarlet eyed her dubiously. She had noticed that the wizard always liked using analogies when she tried explaining these things to her. “…If it is tied in the appropriate manner, I would be able to untie the rope by simply pulling at the right sections. I suppose that is what you are trying to say applies for magic as well, then? However, that begs the question of how to tie the knot to begin with.”

“You don’t. The knot has always existed.”

She stared at the woman.

…That was not much of an explanation.

At her doubtful expression, Arlene continued. “If you have a tree in front of you, you won’t think ‘how exactly do I create a tree like this, with the leaves, branches, bark, and all?’. You will be thinking, ‘what is the best approach to making a tree like this grow by itself?’.” The woman looked at her. “Do you know why?”

Scarlett could think of a dozen different answers for that, but she gestured for her to continue.

“Because the tree is already an existence unto itself. It’s a complicated arrangement of interlocking ties and elements that, no matter the time you waste on it, you won’t ever truly comprehend. You might know how to plant the seed, give it a suitable habitat, and keep it nurtured as it grows, but the tree does the rest. The tree already has its own system of behavior, and the best way to interact with it is by identifying the points that have the most influence in this system. And there are such points. There always are, for everything. I could bore you with an hour-long lecture about why that holds true, but I won’t. Simply understand that it is.”

“…I believe I understand the core of what you are trying to illustrate,” Scarlett said. It wasn’t as if this kind of thinking was entirely foreign to her.

“Do you?” Arlene eyed her with a questioning gaze. “Do you, truly?”

“At the very least, I have a sense of what you are attempting to convey, though I cannot say for certain that I would know how to apply it to magic.”

“I would certainly hope not. If you did, I would be genuinely fearful of whether or not I was dealing with an actual human or not.”

Scarlett raised a brow at the woman.

“The point behind this isn’t to suddenly teach you how magic works. It’s to lay the groundwork and give you an understanding of the reasoning behind the approach that one has to take towards magic,” Arlene said.

“I see…”

“Hidden inside my previous words were what my own master liked to describe as three ‘truths’, observable to anyone with enough time to waste.” For a moment, the wizard grew a forlorn expression on her face. “My master always used to say that these truths were an essential part of what any wizard had to accept if they truly wanted to understand magic as a discipline and what it is capable of achieving. Do you have any clue what these truths might be?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I suspect you intend to share them, regardless. If so, there is no point in me aimlessly fumbling for them.”

Arlene’s mouth rose in a small smile. “That’s very close to what my sister once told our master when asked that very same question. You can imagine that she was not pleased with the consequences.”

“You were of another opinion?”

The older woman let out a low chuckle. “No. I was simply clever enough to keep quiet about what I thought.” She waved her hand as if that wasn’t important. “But I was in the middle of boring you until you die or leave—whichever comes first—so unless you’re too ungrateful to appreciate me telling you even this much, I’ll continue.”

Three fingers were held up in the air.

“Three truths. First of all is the fact that everything is an imitation. A representation. A model. You can describe it in however many ways you want, but what matters is that you understand this: nothing you see is the true reality of the world around you. This is true both for what you perceive with your own eyes and for what you perceive in your mind. And before you start misunderstanding and think I’m saying that nothing is real, listen to the rest of what I have to say.”

“I am listening,” Scarlett said, holding a patient expression.

Arlene gave a satisfied nod. “The second truth is that these imitations often conform well with reality. You see the image of a tree with green leaves because a tree actually has green leaves. You hear the sound of a woodpecker nearby because there is one nearby. A river seems to flow faster because the current is faster. But, if a child dropped a stone in the river, they might be surprised to see that it doesn’t flow along with the current. This is due to the third truth: these imitations that we perceive the world through often fall short of representing the world fully, and as such, we can never fully understand the world. Like the ignorant child, we often draw illogical conclusions from accurate assumptions, because what we see is only the flowing river, failing to understand that the ‘river’ doesn’t actually exist. Just like a tree, a river is simply a system of interlocking relationships and elements that work together and create an effect whose existence we perceive as a river.”

The woman considered Scarlett for a moment. “For another example that might be more familiar to someone like you, you can think of the Graenal empire. Like the river, the ‘empire’ doesn’t exist—and if you plan on arguing with me over that statement, you can leave right here and now.”

Scarlett stayed quiet.

Arlene continued. “The ‘empire’ can, just like anything else, be described as another complex of interlocking relationships and elements, working together towards an overarching goal. The roads and citizens make up some of these elements, and the value people ascribe to the nation and its history is one of the relationships connecting elements together. Then we have the cities, towns, and villages in the empire who are all systems unto themselves, subservient, in part, to the empire and its ‘existence’. This is where we could make a comparison to your magic.”

She gestured to the open square before them and the surrounding buildings. “Say you were the village head or reeve of a village like this. You’ve held the position for long enough to know every single villager, every house, every farm animal, as well as all the relationships that exist between these. You are so familiar with these things that you can predict exactly what consequences it would have if Witter the Blacksmith woke up one hour earlier a particular morning, or if Mira the Weaver went to the nearby town for a week. Even for a small village like this, a feat like that would be incomprehensibly difficult, but perhaps it’s possible in theory. However, let’s say you were instead a baron or a count, with a town or city as part of your fief. Or a duke, with swathes of land and dozens of settlements within your domain. Now, not even the most accomplished of legendary heroes would be able to keep track of all these details.”

The woman let out a short scoff. “I would like to say you don’t see any dukes running around like headless chickens trying to keep track of it all, but perhaps it would be better if they did.” She shook her head. “Anyhow, what’s important here is that, while it might be possible to understand relatively simple existences like a small village or the magic I previously showed you, it quickly becomes unfeasible as they grow more complex.”

Closing the book that was on her lap, Arlene tapped her finger on its cover for a moment. “In theory, you could attempt to map these existences; make comprehensive notes of its purpose, every single element making it up, as well as all the relationships affecting it. This is essentially what spells are. But this is incredibly difficult. Many of these elements and relationships are invisible and never reveal themselves until they become relevant, and by then, it is often too late.” Her voice took on a more serious tone. “Humans are terrifyingly ignorant. Both our young and our most learned are ignorant. The acquisition of knowledge is nothing more than the revelation of our ignorance, and if there is one thing I have learned in my life, it is that our growing understanding of the world first and foremost serves to instruct us that it is greater than our grasp of it will ever reach.”

The woman went silent for a few seconds, and Scarlett went over what she’d said in her head.

“…While I see the merit behind your words, if I am to be truthful, that sort of thinking appears somewhat superfluous to me,” she eventually said. “At the very least, in the majority of cases. It may certainly be beneficial to sometimes consider entities such as towns and cities in the manner you describe. What would be the point in emphasising that a tree I see before me is, as you put it, an imitation? I cannot speak for how it is within the discipline of magic, but I see no scenarios where this might influence how I view or interact with more mundane existences.”

“It is superfluous,” Arlene answered. “Just like pointing at the sky and saying that it’s blue is superfluous in any conversation between two individuals who share the same ability to see. But that is also why it’s important. I am not telling you all of this because I want to turn your worldview upside down, but because if you cannot accept the simple truth that the ‘tree’ as you see it isn’t real—even when that fact holds no significance—then you stand little of a chance of applying this perspective where it matters.”

Scarlett pursed her lips as she looked out at the village. “Such as when approaching magic.”

Arlene nodded. “Yes.”

“Then how does one apply this to magic?”

“How does a child learn to understand that a rock doesn’t float down a river?”

“By throwing one in.” Scarlett looked at the woman. “I have already made several attempts and experiments in order to better understand the magic that I wield. While I am making progress, I do not think it is as efficient as it could be.”

“That’s because you aren’t throwing rocks. You’re throwing pebbles, hoping that the ripples will somehow tell you what the river is.”

“Are you saying that I should throw in larger ‘rocks’?”

“No, that’s not what I am saying.” Arlene creased her brows. “I suppose it’s my fault for leading you into that. But that line of thinking comes from another misunderstanding you have about magic. It’s a common misunderstanding, relevant not only to magic, but to a lot of other disciplines as well.”

“And what might that be?” Scarlett asked.

The woman went quiet, studying her for a while.

“There is a chaos inherent in working with magic,” she said. “Some people might feel the inclination to compare magic with more ‘natural’ disciplines—whatever that is supposed to mean—such as mathematics or botany. They might want to use linear relationships and models to describe magic, because, for some inexplicable reason, they think that is how the world works. Linear equations are solvable. Linear systems are modular. You can take these things apart and put them together again, and all the pieces will add up.”

An almost dismissive snort left Arlene.

“Magic isn’t like that. Magic isn’t linear, and it most certainly isn’t ‘solvable’. Magic cannot be taken apart and put together again. Magic means that the very act of interacting with it changes the rules. That twisted changeability makes magic hard to calculate, but it is also what makes magic so rich. It creates behaviours that would never appear in these otherwise crude representations that people often try to enforce upon the world around them. Understanding this chaos is part of what it means to be a true wizard. And of those, we are woefully lacking.”

“Do you perhaps expect me to become a wizard?” Scarlett asked.

The woman stared at her. “Gods no. That would both be a waste of your time and a risk to my sanity.”

“Then what is it that you wish to say? What, specifically, is it that you recommend I do?”

Arlene tilted her head to the side, a thoughtful expression on her face. “That’s a good question. Not sure if I bothered thinking that far.”

Scarlett blinked. “…Pardon?”

“I wanted to cram some basics into that head of yours. I have never had the chance to teach someone before, so I will admit that this was a somewhat novel experience. What you do with what I’ve said, however, is up to you.”

Scarlett had to hold herself back from uttering an expletive at the woman. It felt like she had just been spun around in a circle repeatedly, only to be then left in a dark forest without a compass and a note that says ‘head east’.

She schooled her expression as much as she could. “Then, if that is all you intended to say regarding these ‘basics’, is there at the very least something you can share regarding true pyrokinesis as well?”

A small smile wormed its way onto the wizard’s face. “Perhaps next time,” she said, turning back to open her book.

Scarlett’s eye twitched. She was starting to suspect this woman took joy in tormenting her like this.