"There are three basic types of mana caster can encounter."

"First the Ether created by exhausting the mana pool between the caster and his target. Mana flows naturally through almost everything. Only few materials can either resist or repel this natural power. Everything else will be evaporated and changed into the Ether."

"Ether isn't dangerous on its own. It's a byproduct of direct casting. It is most commonly described as an unpleasant smell. It's because most spells are casted between two objects divided by the air pocket. There are subtle points I will omit like air density and mana capacity of casting environment."

"The most important part is that the Ether cannot exist long in one place. The mana is bound to fill the blanks and such a process can lead to suffocation of the spellcaster. Therefore, it isn't wise to cast many spells directly in one place, or try to create to big of an effect with no precautions."

The cave was illuminated by two light sources. Long shadows of two beings were cast on the walls.

"The second type of mana is referred to as either Plasma or the Sorrow. It is a special mana which could be visibly molded into any shape. It's used in creating enhancements as it's easier to bound something visible with new properties rather than creating them by hand with runes."

"The second name refers to the word Ectoplasm which is what most undead are created from. I'm no necromancer so I know little about it. Still, I do recall a simple explanation. If someone with deep regret died while creating Plasma chances are it would turn into Ectoplasm and forcefully try to contain itself in its original form."

"Most skeletal undead would also be referred to as the Sorrows. Oh and most spells cast as direct projectiles use Plasma as their core element while only using Ether to direct them properly."

The shadows began to flicker a bit.

"Please try keeping it up a bit longer."

Hestia looked at Gob who was struggling to keep a tiny flame above his hand. It danced around despite the lack of wind. Gob's hand was painted with few simple symbols. They protected him from exerting the Ether. Hestia painted them herself with a bunch of charcoal.

She wasn't too good with glyphs, or maybe they were runes? She couldn't even tell at this point. Small amounts of Ether were generated from Gob's shaking hand. She didn't properly painted them. She was in a hurry. Gob didn't want to wait for an explanation.

Even when she was painting he kept his dagger near her throat...

Gob regained his composure and as his flame became stronger she continued.

"It doesn't matter what effect you want to create as long as you have enough mana to invoke the Ether or create visible Plasma. Direct casting is obviously dangerous. There should always be at least some ways to reduce the stress of mana leaving your body."

She pointed towards Gob's hand.

"To lower it, I painted three symbols. First the top one to lower the output of your mana. Then the second to invoke the symbol of flame and the third to specify its property. Light."

Hestia came closer to Gob and said.

"Do not move your hand and focus."

She waited a while and slowly touched the flame with her own hand. It suddenly became twisted as Gob thought of the damage she would receive, yet Hestia didn't seem to be in pain. It was only being harder and harder to keep the flame alive.

He struggled for a while. He was almost at his limit.

"Ouch!"

Hestia unexpectedly moved her hand away and the flame he controlled began to dwindle. Gob lost his focus and despite his best effort the flame disappeared darkening the cave.

Hestia smiled at his bewildered expression and showed him her undamaged hand. She tricked him.

"The symbols can help you achieve your goal, but what is the most important thing to remember is the concentration. The more you can concentrate on your spell the more potent it will become. The opposite is also true. You thought about the damaging side of the flame and so it was harder to keep it up, because the symbol was opposing the flow of your mana."

"It's impossible to change the effect of the spell midway through casting. If the effect is in opposition with the flow, it will fail. If you don't concentrate enough it will fail, and if you were to stop feeding it with mana, it would immediately fail."

She picked up a stick and looked at Gob.

"Try once more."

As he focused on his hand, she could feel the small amount of movement created around him. His own mana was slowly converted into the spell. She was surprised when he instantly cast it the very first time he tried. Albeit it was quite a short-lived attempt.

Gob focused enough, and the flame appeared. She could almost see his concentration crystalize in front of her, so she broke it with ease. She didn't even need to throw the stick at him. She barely poked him and the fire went away. He looked equally irritated and exhausted, yet he wouldn't stop trying to recast the spell.

"It just needs a little practise."

Gob failed a few times and said.

"What's the third?"

"Oh right."

She waited for the flame to be formed and continued her little lecture.

"The third commonly seen mana form is called Miasma. It is a type of mana derived from the dead. It usually gathers naturally in corpses when their mana converts back into the environment. It's hard to observe in normal circumstances, but..."

Hestia looked at him with caution.

"It's not uncommon to find on the battlefields or unattended graveyards. It can create a lot of gross effects."

Gob let go of his flame and lay down exhausted.

"Like what?"

"Many diseases came from unchecked Miasma. Some undead can sometimes rise from the ground with no magic intervention. They are mindless and target whatever has the most mana in their vicinity. They continue to spread the plague that spawned them. They aren't just some unholy skeletons filled with despair. They can hardly be called living."

"Many people lose lives to those husks."

Hestia became silent and watched the campfire flames. It was already late, but Gob didn't seem eager to go. She already eaten the fish he roasted for her. It wasn't half bad, yet it only made her feel even more lonely than she was.

"In the village there is a pit."

Hestia looked back at the goblin.

"Shaman keeps throwing dead green skin down and says it keeps safe."

Gob looked back at the girl. She appeared to be shocked by his words.

"He lies?"

"They shouldn't be piled together! They might rise back."

"They never came back. He always throws them in parts."

Hestia was suddenly pale. Gob didn't want to scare her. She didn't hide much from him, so wasn't it fair to also properly tell her the truth?

"Why I can magic?"

"I told you everyone can use magic."

"In tribe Shaman always gives new goblin a bunch of embers to touch. They burn the skin if you can magic. My skin not burnt."

Hestia carefully chose her words.

"Each person has a natural resistance towards the mana. The greater the resistance the better the spell caster. If your resistance is low, it means that even a small amount of concentrated magic can leave a trace on your body. People with lower resistances usually have bigger mana pools than others, but each spell is a threat to their lives."

"Meanwhile everyone with higher resistance would be less affected by spells, yet they would suffer from a small mana pool making them unable to cast."

As she noticed his curious gaze she added.

"It is easier to improve one's mana pool rather than natural resistance to magic, as the first requires only a lot of tedious training while the other needs some external help to control spells, like magic wands and whatnot."

Gob fell silent then asked.

"I'm resistant?"

"When you helped me and touched the Ether how did you react?"

"I was scared and ran away and then I... returned here after the night."

"The spell that attacked me invokes fear over the large area. It would likely kill someone without a great resistance."

She wasn't lying. Gob's talent must have been at least decent in order for him to come unscathed from such a contact. Especially if it was the first time he saw a true spell being cast on someone. Hestia suddenly remembered a certain fact.

"Gob?"

"Yes?"

"The ones with the mark from the embers were usually frail weren't they?"

"Shaman and helpers often sick."

"Are there many of them?"

Gob suspiciously paused and then responded.

"Only a few."

Hestia didn't press him further.

Gob didn't want to scare her more.

The ones to pass the test were usually deemed not worthy of becoming shamans and ended up in the pit. Except for the Old Shaman only the current Shaman was still alive.

Hestia covered herself with furs and turned away from Gob. Meanwhile he watched the extinguishing fire before leaving the cave. A single thought was racking his brain.

"The Shaman was weak, and Gob could be strong."

With this thought he entered the night.