I woke up. The sun was already blazing through the opening of our stone bunker, and Cloudy was hovering right over me. Her white eyes studied my face with such interest, it was as if she were deciding whether to cook me now or save me for dessert.

  "I thought you were dead already," she blurted out instead of a "good morning."

  "What?" I tried to pull the blanket (which didn't exist) over my head.

  "Well, you didn't show any signs of life for so long that I started figuring out how to pry you out of this rock."

  I sighed and reluctantly sat up, rubbing my stiff neck. I closed my eyes again, hoping reality would just dissolve on its own.

  "HEY!" Cloudy unceremoniously shoved my shoulder. "Does that mean your words from yesterday were just hot air? You're awake—get to work!"

  "Dammit... it’s only morning..." I grumbled. "Fine. I think I’m officially awake."

  I pondered. Where should I start her training? The problem was that for me, magic had always been like a set of tools in an old box: you just take them and use them. But for her, I needed to build a system.

  So, what’s the easiest thing here? I began to mutter under my breath. Fire? Water? Wet. Iron, Sound, Wind, Earth, Electricity, Light... Oh, Object Manipulation. Illusions. Projection techniques. Regeneration? No, that’s my exclusive. Necromancy—too smelly. Psychomagic, Runes, Gravity... and each branch has a couple dozen sub-classes. God, so much junk has accumulated in my head.

  "Hey! What are you whispering about?" Cloudy stepped closer.

  I looked at her.

  "Alright. In principle, it's all fairly simple. But we have to start somewhere. Listen, what would you actually want to learn?"

  She froze, clearly not expecting such generosity.

  "No way... you're giving me a choice? Seriously?"

  "Yup. Take advantage of it while I'm being nice."

  Her aura flashed white for a second.

  "Give me Fire. I want to learn how to burn everything to the ground without any extra effort."

  I nodded with a perfectly serious expression.

  "Fire. Right. Got it. Understood."

  I paused and added:

  "So, we'll start with Water."

  "WHAT THE—?!" she practically choked with indignation. "You just said 'choose'! Why did you even ask then?!"

  "To understand your inclinations and do the exact opposite," I explained lazily, getting to my feet.

  I stepped out of the shelter into the fresh air. First came the lecture. Tedious as the creak of ungreased hinges, but necessary. We sat on some rocks, and I started steering her brain toward theory.

  "Watch closely. In every being—living, non-living, even in this rock—there is mana. It’s not some kind of fairy dust; it’s energy. It helps manipulate other energies or objects. In essence, mana is a universal converter."

  I held out my hand. A perfect sphere of water immediately gathered over my palm. A second later, the water turned into a bright clump of flame with a hiss.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "You take mana and change its state. Every species has its own limit: some have a bucket of mana, some a thimble. But the most important thing is that this volume can be expanded."

  I suddenly went silent. A sharp prick of discomfort hit the back of my head.

  How the hell do I know all this? I thought.

  "Hey, why did you freeze?" Cloudy prodded me impatiently with a finger.

  "Oh, nothing... lost my train of thought. Anyway, listen up. There are three ways to use this power. Silent magic, speaking... well, or verbal, and runic."

  "Silent is when you aren't stupid," she cut in sharply, looking at my hands.

  "Fine. And speaking..."

  "That’s when you're still not stupid," she interrupted again.

  "JUST LISTEN!" I snapped. "Speaking magic is for those who can't manage the flow directly. They need crutches. Artificial limiters in the form of words and a specific emotional state."

  I struck a pose, theatrically waved my arms, and wailed across the forest thicket in various pitches:

  "FIRE, GLOW WITH BRIGHT LIGHT! ILLUMINATE THE PATH FOR MY FRIENDS! BE RIGHTEOUS AND FORMIDABLE!"

  Having finished the performance, I sat back down.

  "Well, anyway, you get the point. Total garbage. I don't know why there are so few silent mages in this world. Maybe people just like to shout. In reality, you don't need to say a thing. It's enough to just IMAGINE."

  I looked into her eyes—those beautiful eyes.

  "To create water, you must understand what water is. Not just 'wet stuff,' but the structure. Why is it like that? Where does the cold come from? You must understand where this power originates in your body. It’s like breathing—you don't recite poetry to take an inhale, do you? You just know how to expand your chest. Magic is the same. You must feel the root of the power."

  I fell silent, expecting her to blurt out another insult about my small skull. But Cloudy was silent. She was listening to me so intently. I couldn't help but smile. Seeing a beautiful person listen to you is damn pleasant.

  "Alright, and now—runic magic," I raised a finger. "That’s a whole different topic. Imagine, you can literally 'record' a spell on paper or stone, pour mana into it, and it works by itself."

  I picked up an ordinary dry twig from the ground. I concentrated, and complex, angular symbols began to sear into the wood, accompanied by a quiet hissing. I waved the stick, and small, cheerful sparks sprayed from the tip.

  "Cool, right? Honestly, though, I'm not capable of much more. To compose actual runic schemes, you need a brain the size of a watermelon and the patience of a saint. You won't learn that in a summer."

  I tapped my temple.

  "But you have a head, and in that head—imagination. That is the main tool."

  Again, that question in the back of my head: How do I know this?! Whatever, Greg, forget it. No time for self-analysis.

  "Now for practice," I created a stone basin from the earth and filled it to the brim with water. "Go on, touch the water."

  Cloudy approached and dipped her palm into the water. She swished her fingers around.

  "And? What next?" she looked at me.

  "You have to memorize the water. What is it like? Cold? Fluid? Dense? For starters, try to just keep it on your hand when you pull your palm out. Don't let it run off."

  She lifted her hand. Transparent droplets immediately rolled merrily off her skin back into the basin.

  "I don't understand," she frowned. "You're a bad teacher, Zenhald."

  I smirked.

  "Maybe. Or maybe you're just..."

  I lowered my hand into the basin and began to lift it slowly. The water didn't run off—it stuck to my palm. Furthermore, the entire basin, full of water, began to rise into the air along with my hand, held up only by my will.

  "...Or maybe you're just weak and stupid?" I finished.

  Her face immediately twisted with rage.

  "PUT IT BACK!" she shrieked.

  I returned the basin to the ground. She spent the rest of the day at that stone bowl. Lowering her hand, lifting it. Over and over. The drops ran off, she got angry, but she didn't give up. She didn't lack patience—she had the persistence of a true monster.

  I went to cook meat. The smell of roasted venison filled the clearing, and her continuous whispering drifted from behind the bushes:

  I feel it... I'm close... why is it so hard? I can feel its structure... almost...

  Night fell. She never came into the shelter. I tossed and turned on the stones and eventually fell asleep.

  I woke up with the first rays of the sun. I stepped outside and froze. Cloudy was lying on the grass right next to the basin. She had simply passed out from exhaustion, never having moved from the spot. Her hand was still submerged in the water.

  I looked at her, and a strange feeling pricked me—guilt?

  Dammit... maybe I really am a bad teacher? I whispered. It’s so simple. Like walking. Like blinking. Maybe I just wasn't able to explain the essence of it.

  I crouched beside her, studying her face, calm in sleep. For me, magic was an automatic reflex, a part of my biology. I didn't even think about how I did it. But for her, it was a struggle.

  "Sorry, Cloudy," I grumbled, removing a leaf stuck to her cheek.