On Cultivating Magic Systems

So we come to magic, a heavy word echoing across the breadth of fantasy literature. It has been used to artfully defy narrative bonds, to return the hero from death and win the day against a tide of enemies. It has been used to thrill and excite, to captivate and compel, to make us laugh quietly to ourselves and curse aloud to the stars, to inspire both hope and horror.

Though what does it mean to use it?

Action necessitates reaction, and energy demands exertion. How can something be freely done, if nothing is freely made? I have long held the belief a dedicated system of magic should fit inside this same framework.

The wizard who keeps back the onslaught must crumble beneath the weight of his labor. The sorceress whose touch returns life must breathe her last in the giving of it. By balancing unthinkable power with severest consequence, the use of magic is rendered a dire last resort–more often better left alone than indulged.

I’ve accomplished this in my universe, at least as far as mankind is concerned, by structuring magic as a fundamental language beyond grasp of man’s comprehension to articulate. He wades into the water shallowly as his limited mind allows, the barest step forward, and stands along an edge to regard the infinite before him. This place is not for him, and this power is not his to own, yet still he doggedly fights his way to loiter at the threshold of greatness.

This stubborn insistence to involve himself is the epitome of a cube forced through a round opening. With every exchange, a bit of function and dimension is lost on part of the wielder. The mind distorts, becomes removed from itself in the act, and upon return has been made lesser across its many facets.

To wield magic is to embrace madness, and a fraying rope can only be made to strain so far.

ColeSubscribe for updates and lore drops straight to your inbox.

SUBSCRIBE