In a Bottle... Ch. 06

The desert vanished. Alan found himself in the corner between the kitchen and the hallway, his nose pressed against the wall. He could try and make the illusion of a great expanse of space, but he was always still right here in his apartment. Illusions could not make him walk through walls, and trying to trick the mind to believe that he was walking across a sand dune while his body was actually running into a wall was nearly impossible. He had a flashback to the time that he had tried to make his body incorporeal while Misty searched for him in the kitchen. It had been a challenge just to maintain the illusion that her hand could pass through him, and even more difficult when her whole body ran into him.

Alan took a few cleansing breaths, cleared his mind with a shake of his head, turned away from the corner, and tried again. A second time Alan reached deep into the crevices of his mind, calling forth as much magic as he could. He focused on the little details, the individual leaves, the sounds.

It was like stepping into a picture. Alan was surrounded by color. Vibrant ferns and moss-encrusted trees stretched away from him in every direction. A waterfall cascaded down some rocks a small distance to his left. For a moment he just listened to the rush of water and inhaled deeply, inviting the rich damp air into his lungs. Everything was so green. He had tried to imagine it, but to actually see it was much more striking. The muted sun coming in through the canopy gave the scene a relaxing blush of warm light.

Alan reached out with a cautious hand to touch a nearby branch, testing the strength of his illusion. It was masterfully done. If he hadn't just made it, he wouldn't have any reason to doubt that the tree was real. The brittle ridges of the bark, the spongy moss hanging down towards him, the twisting vines spiraling along to grip the branch in a tight embrace, all of it felt real. Oddly enough, he noted as he squeezed the branch, he had no trouble holding onto the illusion as he interacted with it. He told his mind that this branch was solid, and it was.

He released the illusion, the rainforest melting away around him instantly. Alan was curious about the intricacies of his limits with magic. What made something feasible to the mind and what was unbelievable? He decided to experiment a little bit more and moved to the center of the room, noting where he was in relation to everything as he did so.

He closed his eyes and imagined another vivid scene. When he opened them it had become his reality. It was dark. The only light was a few slivers of pale moonlight that snuck in between the barred window behind him. The damp air carried a chill with it that made him shiver slightly. He reached out his hand, slow like before. The stone walls next to him were rough, as though they had been hewn straight from a mountainside. They grated against his skin and his fingers came away slick with some kind of slime. He reached out in the other direction feeling a similar rocky wall within arm's reach, yet he knew that in reality he was standing in his apartment. He tried his hardest to remember exactly how far away everything in his apartment was and at the same time hold onto the illusion he had crafted. He found it was exceedingly difficult to believe two concepts of reality at the same time. The wall of his apartment was about three steps in front of him so he went to touch it.

Immediately pain raced up his leg as he jammed his foot against a cold steel door. He bit his lip and rubbed his toes in an effort to dispel the pain. Then he realized that he was the one in control. He had made the door solid. He had created the idea of pain. He searched the far corners of his mind for the small details of his complex enchantment and released only that part of it. The pain vanished and he put his foot back down.

He hadn't had any difficulty maintaining the illusion even when he ran straight into the door. He found that interesting and came up with one last idea to test a theory that was brewing in his mind. He banished the illusion of the prison cell and moved right into another as quick as his mind would work.

He was in a helicopter, the blades chopping violently overhead keeping him airborne as he layered the pieces of the illusion upon each other. The sound was almost deafening with the bay door open. The wind from the blades buffeted him around. He imagined the weight of the backpack on his shoulders. He checked the straps to make sure they were secure and that he could reach his ripcord.

Alan leaned forward and jumped.

It felt like someone pulled hard on his intestines. The wind whipped past him and roared in his ears as he fell, but the waves of nausea were too intense. He released the illusion, gulping air, and found himself laying face down on the carpet, flashing spots warring across his vision. He knew for certain now that it only strained his ability when reality impeded his perception of actual movement. His mind could stop his body from moving--the idea of a branch, or a metal door could seem solid--but the magic couldn't compensate for his body colliding with actual objects very well. It seemed the larger and more solid the object, the more strain it put on his ability to hold onto the enchantment.

He went into the living room and sat down on the couch for a moment, waiting for his stomach to calm down and his head to stop swimming. He had used quite a bit of magic today and it was starting to wear him down.

Alan had gotten to the point where complex illusions still required quite a bit of focus to craft his enchantments and blend the elements together properly, but everything else almost came as naturally as thought. Magik really had taught him pretty much everything he needed to know about illusions. Even without a concrete knowledge of how magic worked he was able to do all of these things and was continuing to gain proficiency.

He stood up to grab a Pepsi from the refrigerator, pleased with the breakthrough he had made for the day. He paused, held his hand up in front of his face, and opened his palm towards the ceiling creating a small column of flame instantly. It didn't burn him, of course, for he hadn't chosen to include any heat with the illusion. Alan marveled at how simple such a thing had become to him. He watched as it danced, creating little ripples in the air. His thoughts drifted again, as they had so often lately, to Eneros. If another mage like Eneros were to summon a flame it would be a real thing and likely more explosive. A spewing gout of fire, not this small churning thing he now held in his palm. Intended to immolate and incinerate. To destroy. To kill a person.

Alan blinked away the tear that was now threatening to fall onto his cheek and pantomimed throwing his miniature fireball in anger. An imaginary threat in his living room took the brunt of his wrath as the fire seared the air around it, gathering strength as it traveled towards the window.

The strange feeling overtook Alan again--a weakness in the knees coupled by a flash of white. By the time he realized what was happening he was already on the floor with the edges of his vision going dark.

- - -

Alan awoke to the sound of his smoke detector screeching at him.

"I hope that isn't just my head ringing," he said, looking around groggily. The smell of smoke was strong in the air, and all four of his genies were standing or kneeling beside him. "What happened?"

"You rendered yourself unconscious after igniting the curtains, master," Lucky explained with a hint of concern in her voice. "Do not worry. We extinguished them before any real damage occurred."

A brief inspection of the room proved it to be true. Something had gone wrong. The curtains which were normally a muted pastel yellow were now singed a dark brown all along the right side.

"Carmella, open the window, would you please? That alarm is driving me nuts. I haven't passed out from using magic since I saved Heather from those thugs," he thought aloud, his head still a little muddied as he fought to fully regain consciousness. "Maybe I have been pushing myself too hard."

And then the obvious hit him like a bullet to the chest. He smelled smoke. His smoke detector was still going crazy. He looked at the curtains again, this time actually seeing the damage.

His focus coming back, Alan went to the special place in his mind where he held all of his enchantments in check so they didn't drift on him until he was ready to release them. He wasn't actively using any magic.

They were not illusory burns.

"What did I do?" he whispered, barely audible over the screech of the smoke detector.