“The Jora tribe?” repeated Noel, her eyes unfocused.

I narrowed my eyes and my heart started to race. “Is that really their name?” I asked.

“Yes,” said the elder, “they are the largest tribe, and the most powerful. Some say they were blessed directly by the ancient elves, and it is this blessing that is the source of their great power.”

“Blessing?” repeated Noel. The word struck a nerve with me, as well.

“Yes, a powerful blessing that makes their magic more powerful than ours,” said the elder. “When the people of my tribe wish to cast magic, we must prepare for a long time, channel our prayers to the ancient elves, and hope that they hear us. It is only with their approval that our magic spells are cast! They say the Jora tribe do not have to wait for approval. They can cast their magic as if by breathing.” The elder got on his knees once again. “I pray to you once again, venerable elves, please, bestow upon us your blessing!”

The other humans got on their knees too. Even stubborn Kelser was forced to bow by a strong-armed red-haired woman hugging a crying baby. It seemed like the humans had been holding it in for a while. Judging by how desperate they were for our ‘blessing,’ I could guess that their relationship with the ‘Jora’ tribe wasn’t very warm.

“Wait, no,” I said, “get up, all of you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

It took a while to convince the Roja tribesmen to stop begging for our blessing. In the end, I promised to help them improve their magic, and I think they took that to mean I would give them my blessing after all. They were very excited; the elder was practically on the verge of tears.

While I tried to handle the tribesmen, Noel stared out at the ocean without saying a word. I clicked my tongue. Why did things always get so complicated?

---

“Okay,” I said, loudly, “in order to help you improve your magic skills, I need to first know where you stand.” I surveyed the group of red-haired humans standing in front of me. We were lined up just off the beach near the cove by their cave. Every single tribesmen had followed us here, eager to be ‘blessed’ by the mystical elves.

Noel stood next to me. After asking a ton of questions, she managed to get a lot of information about the ‘Jora’ tribe that elder Kezler had mentioned. The elder did not know that our tribe’s name was also Jora, but from what he had told us about the way the human Jora tribe grew out of humans saved by the ancient elves, it was easy to see how they had adopted the name for themselves. After getting the elder to promise to show us the way to the human Jora tribe, Noel agreed to help them with their magic, as well.

“Elder Kezler,” I said, “you told me the ancient elves taught your people four kinds of magic. One for each element. Can you come over to this pile of wood and light it up with fire magic?”

Another thing the elder had told us was that the elder of the tribe was not actually always the oldest person. Instead, the elder was the most powerful magician, chosen through duels and demonstrations. It just so happened that the oldest person was usually the most powerful magician, which actually told me a lot about the state of their magical abilities.

Elder Kezler lumbered over to the pile of wood. His sharp hazel eyes peered at the kindling so fiercely it looked like he was trying to light it with his gaze alone. Of course, he was actually just preparing his magic.

“Mighty ancestors, hear my plea! Carry my wishes to the great and venerable elves; governors of magic, purveyors of power and enlightenment. Carry my prayers so my words may call forth flames from the inside of this offering, sharing your light, your warmth, with us lowly beings!” said the elder with a completely solemn, straight face.

I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, involuntarily. Since when did magic require chants in this world? And why did their chants have to be so embarrassing?

The elder lifted his arms to the heavens at the end of his chant, and stood there, like a statue, with his eyes staring at the wood. He’d upturned his chin so he was looking down over his nose, which made the whole thing feel even worse. Eventually, a small flame flashed onto the kindling, but the flame was way too small and the kindling failed to catch on fire.

The elder repeated this process a couple times. Beads of sweat rolled down his wrinkly forehead, and he was breathing quickly, but his eyes never lost their intensity. Finally, the kindling caught on fire. The elder rushed to the kindling and started blowing on it, carefully. When the flame was hot enough, he fed it some twigs and dried grass, before putting it into the pile of wood. A small campfire came into being, but with the amount of time and effort that went into making it, I wondered if it would have been faster and easier to rub two sticks together and pray.

Fortunately, it turned out fire magic was the elder’s weakest magic. He showed us his most powerful magic—water—and it only took him one long, embarrassing, attempt. Water magic was the Roja tribe’s specialty, which made sense because they lived next to the ocean, but definitely didn’t suit their fiery hair and demeanor.

“Okay,” I said, “Noel, do you wanna start?”

“No way,” said Noel, “you should handle this. I’ll help with the practical lessons.”

I sighed. I turned to the humans and clapped my hands together. “Alright, thank you for showing us your magic. But before I get around to helping you improve your magic, let me show you something.”

I stretched out a hand and opened my palm. A small flame appeared above my open hand, catching the humans by surprise. Before they could start freaking out and praising me, I reminded them that they’d already seen us use magic, so they had no reason to keep reacting this way every time. After all, soon they’d be able to do magic like this, too.

“In fact, your attitude towards us is one of the things holding you back,” I said.

“What do you mean, venerable elf?” asked elder Kezler.

“You respect us too much,” I said, “like, you just called me a venerable elf, even though I told you my name is Cas.”

“But, you are an elf, venerable one,” said the elder, “how could we dare call you by your name? You are the spirits that govern magic; you control storms, floods, droughts, and nature itself. To insult you would cut us off from the blessing of magic that your kind bestowed upon our ancestors,” he said. “We are already sorry for poor little Kelser, my grandson, since he offended you with his childish ignorance. We understand that he will never be able to wield magic.”

“No,” I said, “that’s wrong! It’s all wrong!”

“I do not understand,” he said.

I tried to tell him we weren’t supernatural beings, but he said we could cast magic with our thoughts. I explained we weren’t in charge of magic, to which he said he understood that magic was an ungovernable thing, but he said he knew the elves were the only ones who could tame it.

We weren’t getting anywhere so I figured I’d use a classic form of inter-civilization communication.

“You said the Jora tribe have more powerful magic than you do,” I said.

“Yes, they were blessed by your people,” said the elder.

“Then are there other tribes whose magic is weaker than yours? Perhaps there are tribes that can’t do any magic at all,” I said.

The elder nodded. “There are those who were punished by the spirits, we believe their ancestors offended the ancient elves.”

“But think about this.” I slowly walked closer to the humans. “When you saw me use my magic, magic that is more powerful than your own, you almost thought of me like a deity or a spirit. But if you walked up to people from a tribe that can’t do any magic, and showed them your magic.” I pointed at the still burning fire. “Wouldn’t they be just as impressed as you are? Wouldn’t they drop to their knees, and beg for you to bless them too? Perhaps they would call you a spirit or say you held the secrets to magic; that you called forth storms, caused great earthquakes, and controlled nature itself.”

Gray clouds began to gather in the sky. They formed visibly, plunging our little corner of the cove into relative darkness. Just a few feet away on the beautiful beach, the sun still shone brightly on the sand. And yet, over our heads, rain began to pour. At first a drizzle, then much more.

I put a hand into the air and let the water trail down the side of my air. My hair was drenched, my face and body wet, but I smiled as I looked at the soggy humans.

“What you need, my friends, are not prayers and blessings. All you need, are knowledge and wisdom.”