What Dakla told me was, quite frankly, absolutely bizarre. In the dark, I lay there and reflected on Dakla’s latest lesson as she slept, hoping that nothing too significant got lost in translation. In summary, what she’d told me could be condensed down to three major points:

Many so-named “Divine Entities” exist These “Divine Entities” rule over the world (this planet?) The Infernals are the sworn enemy of the Divine

First: these “Divine Entities”. In the beginning, I couldn’t wrap my head around this concept, however, eventually it clicked what Dakla was talking about: These “Divine Entities” were “gods”, like from the old stories. I remembered from my history databases that primitive humans often ascribed these figures with omni-something capabilities; be they -potent, -scient, -present, or all the above. When I asked Dakla if any of her “Divine Entities” had these powers, she grew uncertain, and couldn’t give a clear answer.

The answer she did give, was that this particular question—that of how powerful they were—was apparently a major point of contention among the educated, but the generally agreed upon philosophy was that these Divine Entities were unfathomably “powerful” but not “all-powerful”. The most compelling example that the learned folks had of this, was that some Divine Entities were apparently measurably “stronger” than others—whatever that meant. From this, their thinkers concluded that individually, the Divine Entities must not have infinite power.

When I asked further about these Divine Entities, Dakla explained that there were generally three categories: The Domain-based, the Objective-based, and the Exotic. Domain-based Divine Entities closely paralleled that which I had on record about old-Earth religions—at least in the broad strokes. Specifically, these Divine Entities claimed authority over an idea or concept. There were gods of justice, strength, warfare, hunting, comedy, and many more. Further paralleling that which I had on file, these “gods” were frequently ascribed with human virtues, values, and failings. Divine squabbles were cited as the casus belli for multiple conflicts throughout history.

The Objective-based Divine Entities were described by Dakla as more animalistic, and as the name implied, typically had some sort of mission or task that they pursued in perpetuity (all divine entities are at least pseudo-immortal as I understood). The examples that my teacher gave were quite amusing. My favorites were the “World devouring fish” which wanted to eat everything possible and the “All seeing eye” which wanted to see everything possible. I didn’t ascribe a high likelihood to these mythical creatures existing, as they seemed like just the types of tall tales that a primitive society would come up with for their own amusement.

Then, there was the Exotic category. These were, well, weird. Even stranger than the Domain-based Divine Entities and more inscrutable than the Objective-based Divine entities, Dakla only knew of three. Those three she called the “God of the Pact”, the “Narrative”, and “Zone Binder”. Of the three, Dakla knew most about the “God of the Pact”. Apparently, unlike the Domain-based gods, this one was wholly inhuman, and the way she described it, it acted almost algorithmic or programmed. Its purpose was simple: by making “pacts” it allowed magic-users to gather “strength” for their magic drawn directly from their bodies.

The other two Exotics that she’d mentioned: “Narrative” and “Zone Binder” she didn’t know much about. All she knew was that Narrative had something to do with storytelling or literature (?) and Zone Binder was occasionally mentioned in historical accounts of great wars and particularly Divine Entity conflict. It seemed to be present, or at least something that the “gods” interacted with, but was, unlike them, wholly inhuman in its actions and motives.

Finally, the Infernals. According to Dakla, these were a people who long ago disrespected/fought the pantheonic Divine Entities before losing the war and being forced to flee. History and Dakla weren’t quite clear on this point though. Apparently, they fled to a different place—another continent or planet maybe—and thus escaped the jurisdiction of the “gods”. These Infernals, where singular members were called Demons, apparently wanted to regain their former territory, and thus frequently made incursions into “this world”. Interestingly, this perpetual conflict—if it existed—had been going on for thousands(!) of years.

Of course, I didn’t take everything that Dakla told me at face-value. It all sounded too much like fiction; a fantastical fairy-tale. Something that would be made into an entertainment program or something that I could stumble across in a human-history database. Nevertheless, I reasoned that there was most likely at least a kernel of truth to this elaborate mythos that was being spun, and the way she told it, if these “gods” or Divine Entities truly existed, I’d see them affect the world eventually.

After Dakla gave me a primer on what she considered “important history”, her lesson’s focus drifted to magical theory. Fortunately, the basics were quite simple to understand, even if they didn’t mesh well with my modern worldview: Magic was the manipulation of “energy” and required “strength” perform. With enough training, anyone could use magic, but only with local supplies of energy. Dakla explained that magic users could “diminish the fire within” to power “spells” or, if they’ve made a pact with the God of the Pact, they could “diminish the strength within” to achieve the same effect. The lesson didn’t go much further than that as Dakla was tired, so she went to sleep.

As I lay there, thinking about the questions I had and trying to find solutions in what I’d learned, I came up with an explanation for one of the first mysteries I encountered when landing on this world: Why had all the robed men been colder than their surroundings? Of course, ever since I’d learned about magic, it had been quite obvious that my method of arrival here had been magical in nature, but this just confirmed it further. When Dakla mentioned “the fire within”, she didn’t mean a literal fire, she must’ve been talking about body heat! Assuming that the “energy” Dakla was talking about was actual energy—in a physics sense—I could quickly guess the amount of energy that those spellcasters had expended:

Water’s specific heat capacity is around 4000 J/kg°C and these people are mostly water. That means a 37°C man massing 70 kilo and cooled down to 5°C has lost roughly 9MJ in thermal energy alone. Still, only 9MJ per person wasn’t that much—I had no clue how much energy it cost to tear a literal hole through space—but even with all of them combined, 250 kwh wasn’t much. Maybe they “diminished the strength within” too? What could that mean? Maybe magic can utilize chemical energy? Something to ask about later.

The next sunrise, we didn’t immediately head out to gather plants: Dakla wasn’t trying to avoid the confrontation with the Headman anymore. Instead, we proceeded to spend time processing the plants we’d gathered. With mortar and pestle some leaves were ground to paste, other plants were laid out to dry, and more were tied to strings or stored in a seemingly endless supply of glass jars. I helped out, eidetic proprioception letting me easily mimic the specific movements that Dakla instructed me in. While we worked, we talked, particularly about my previous encounters with magic.

“Can magic transport people long distances?” I asked.

“Of course, that’s how you got here, wasn’t it?”

I was surprised, how did she know?

“How did figure that out?”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Well, there are many clues. Not knowing the language is a big one, you were hardly equipped for long distance travel, and you’re clearly not from around here.”

She continued, “Furthermore, when I first found you, there were distinct signs of recent and intense dimensionalisim magic; something I’d expect if someone, say, passed through a portal.”

I put the pieces together. When we’d first come across each other, I thought she’d been attempting to communicate with her hands. That wasn’t communication, that was a spell! I was curious.

“What spells did you cast when we met?”

“Ah, you remember that? I guess you would. Well, the first spell that I cast was a basic ward—a simple precaution against hostile magic.”

“A ward?”

“A spell-pattern which can act without my instruction, in this case, to protect me.”

I recalled the event, but even re-analyzing the memory closely, I didn’t notice any obvious effects. Whatever it was, it didn’t have any conventionally detectable indicators.

“And the second spell?”

At this, Dakla grew slightly uncomfortable, but still responded, “The second spell, is, well actually more of a divine blessing and it’s named ‘Identify Infernal.”

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows.

Dakla quickly continued, “Look, your appearance can be… somewhat frightening and with traces of dimensional magic all around you, I couldn’t be too certain.”

“You thought I was one of your ‘Demons’?”

“Yes, I—”

I shrugged, “I’m not, and no one ever wishes they’d been less cautious.”

Dakla seemed relieved that I wasn’t insulted, and continued:

“And before you ask, the difference between a spell and a blessing is simple: a spell requires me to provide the pattern and the energy while a blessing only requires me to provide the energy; the pattern is provided from Above. Specifically, ‘Identify Infernal’ is a pattern of Arkosmus.”

I recalled the “gods” Dakla had taught me about and I looked up Arkosmus. In his entry I’d noted down that his domain was “righteous conflict and the eternal war”. Seems like a stand-up guy.

Dakla was continuing “…and finally, there are Miracles. A Miracle is a working of magic where both the pattern and the energy are provided from Above. Typically, only higher clergy are capable of performing miracles, and then only with permission from above.”

“So, you know Arkosmus and he lets you use this ‘pattern’?” I asked.

“What?” Dakla laughed, “No, no, I don’t ‘know’ a god! Blessings like ‘Identify Infernal’ are…” she gestured as if searching for the right words, “…technically for everyone. They are taught to all Clergy and occasionally found in their texts—it is in the best interests of the various churches to distribute useful magic against the Infernal far and wide.”

I understood: the churches were giving their members cheap weapons to fight off Demons in a basic counterinsurgency strategy. The guerilla fighters of the Infernals would presumably face resistance faster if magic to detect them was common. Something was bugging me about this though:

“If this magic is frequently used against Infernals, why are you so secretive about using it? Why is it such a… taboo?

Dakla grew serious, “Magic is only permitted to those who have a license or members of the clergy. I don’t have a license nor am a clergywoman.”

“Why would you need a license or be a clergywoman?”

“You must know how powerful magic can be. It’s in the best interests of any kingdom, organization, or nation in general to keep their magic users on a tight leash—and I don’t want to be on the King’s or the Church’s leash. Moreover, what I’ve told you is my version of the truth; those of the church will ardently stand behind the lie that Blessings and Miracles are ‘holy power’ or a fundamentally different type of magic. Most of the churches believe that ‘traditional magic’ in the way I or others are capable of, is fundamentally wrong or ‘aligned with the Infernals’—complete nonsense that is.”

“But if you’re not a member of the clergy, then how are you able to use Blessings?”

Dakla chuckled, “That’s another truth churches wouldn’t want everyone knowing either—it would dilute their power. The truth is: low-power blessings can be invoked by almost anyone, provided they have at least some magical training or can mimic the verbal and somatic gestures well enough. I don’t need to worship Arkosmus to invoke something simple like ‘Identify Infernal’.”

“Interesting.”

Our conversation once again fell into companionable silence, only broken by the noises from the menial tasks we were working at. Occasionally, we would chat, and I would ask or answer questions, but ultimately, the atmosphere inside and around Dakla’s little home was relaxed. I was happy. I’d already answered some questions that I’d asked myself earlier and my spoken local language was now almost fluent. That evening, we’d start reading lessons and then, maybe, I’d be able to go after some of the big questions and hopefully find some big answers.

At least, that’s what my plan was. The next dawn would bring trouble—big trouble—and neither Dakla nor I were properly prepared.