"You were out of control. What happened with the card was an accident, it happens to most people new to magic. It wasn't your fault. And that's coming from Yennefer's oldest friend who was very concerned for her welfare. We've both been there."
Istredd has gotten better about remarking on his close relationship with Yennefer, especially in Thorne and around places where he can be heard. Lucifer and Yennefer both taught him a lesson about that, and Geralt underlined it, so he has been more cautious. But he is stating it now so Wilhelm can see that this could have gone very different. Istredd means what he says, he is understanding, and he knows from experience how easily it can get out of hand. Not that Yennefer would be as forgiving, but that's her, and he doesn't pretend to speak for her.
He goes over a few things he wants to say, a lot of advice, a lot of experience, but in the end he takes in a deep breath and lets it out. "What do you want? Are you happy with where you are right now?"
"No," Wilhelm answers, spitting the word like shrapnel. He cuts an emphatic gesture with his hand, shakes his head. "Who the fuck would be happy like this?"
Crushed under the weight of guilt. Waiting for the guillotine to fall, the bomb to detonate. While he isn't shouting, a sharp edge glints in his voice.
"Everyone keeps saying that it wasn't my fault. You, Kyle, Rhy. But it was my fault. It doesn't matter if it was an accident, that just means that guy got killed because I made a stupid mistake, and your friend got hurt too. A whole city was burned to the ground because I couldn't...I couldn't do one simple fucking thing right."
Feeling a prickling sneaking up behind his eyes, he sucks in a breath and expels it slowly. His gaze glides up the curving shelves and terraces that comprise Istredd's tower. What do you want? Hardly anyone has asked him that in his life.
"I...don't want this power anymore. If I could just get rid of it, I would."
Like when panic starts cannibalizing him, and he wishes he could claw his way out of his skin.
Istredd takes that in quietly. The guilt is clear, the responsibility, everything happening wearing on him, no wonder he's been a mess. To add to that the Lucifer reveal and feeling as if there is no one to believe in, no one on his side. Istredd is not great at social situations but he has always been an empathic person.
"You are not responsible for the actions of other people. That takes away the concept of choice, of individualism. The queen chose to attack the Free Cities, she wanted to do that. Whoever attacked Yennefer wanted to do that, and someone else killed that mage. Thorne didn't give us clear context with our instructions, leading to confusion and fear, that is on them. You are responsible for your actions. The consequences you can take on your shoulders and learn from them, but it doesn't mean you did any of that."
Istredd sounds sincere and confident in what he is saying because he is. The consequences of his own actions are his, and he understands that, having made plenty that still hang over him now. Things he would do differently if he could.
"But that means your actions now also matter, Wilhelm. If you truly believe that you hold some responsibility for what happened then the right thing to do is learn how to use them so you don't do it again. Some part of you has to know that these powers aren't going to just go away."
Istredd knows what he's talking about, more so than he can ever press, but hopefully the way he's speaking, the certainty in his tone, makes it clear he is speaking from personal experience.
"The one way you never have to worry about your magic again is learning how to use it, because once it is under control, once that fear doesn't hang over you, you can master it, and leave it."
At first, as Istredd absolves him of responsibility for the catastrophic consequences of that night, the jagged edges that currently compose Wilhelm seem to erode little by little. He takes the words in, trying to hold them, although it's like trying to catch water in your open hands. So much slips through your fingers. He wants to believe Istredd, like he had wanted to believe Rhy, but his guilt is an immutable slab.
Then he leans hard into the topic of Wilhelm's magic, and Wilhelm just shakes his head — it would be nearly imperceptible if he did it only once, but the movement is continuous. No, no, no. He used to do this to his mother when he didn't like what she was telling him. His arms cross and his lips thin.
"I can't," he finally says. His voice is half teenage obstinance, half fear creeping in. "I can't...I can't do it."
He swallows, eyes shiny, looking anywhere but at the man standing in front of him. Knowing that Istredd will press for a reason, he pushes it out.
"When I try, I just...I start to feel like I'm going to throw up. I actually did, once. But I can't get any fire to come out. That's why I thought it would be better to quit. The problem sort of...solved itself."
Except it hadn't. For weeks, his fire lay dormant inside of him, hiding in his bones, or wherever magic goes when you're not using it. He tried to forget about it, but his brain has always been shit at letting things go. Then at the banquet...he'd gotten upset at Lucifer, not-so-old scars poked and prodded open, and his fire cracked awake. It pressed at his palms, burning to get out.
"Wilhelm, listen to me." Istredd steps closer to him, his voice soft. He reaches out as he has to Lucifer before when in difficult emotional positions, and if Wilhelm allows him, he will place a hand on his arm gently. A sign of physical support to ground him. He tries not to think about how that very gesture is something he learned from Stregobor, but it used to give him comfort. It sometimes still does, unfortunately.
"You can. You're making yourself sick because you're denying something that is a part of you now. I know it's not fair and you didn't ask for this, but it's as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. That's magic. Think of it like the energy that powers your heart, that zips through your brain. It's all connected in your life-force." Istredd knows this reality well, it's exactly what mages have to live with in his world. Taken from homes and families and accept the reality.
"The important part is you are not alone. There are people all around you who care. It's not weak to accept help." Istredd is getting a little better at being a teacher every day. It is a skill he never attempted at, but now he is starting to like it.
"If I could guarantee a way to help you use your magic where you can't hurt anyone or anything, would you consider it?"
When Istredd's hand lands on his arm, he tenses — but he doesn't jerk away or brush him off. As Wilhelm listens, his shoulders sink back down. Eventually, his arms unknot. It's not weak to accept help. He'd once told Wanda that he didn't want to be a problem for everyone else to worry about. At the time, he thought that meant seizing any scrap of independence he could, even if he wasn't ready to wield it yet. He thought it meant bearing the burden of his problems alone.
It was that mindset that led him to try activating the tarot card on his own, calling on his untested fire to do the job instead of relying on Kell's skill. And it was that mindest that shut him up in isolation afterward, falling apart where nobody could stumble over the pieces.
Holding his face, massaging fingers into eyes squeezed shut, Wilhelm pushes out a sigh. He nods, reluctantly at first, but then committing.
"Fine." His hands fall away from his face. "I'll...try."
Even in just this handful of words there wobbles doubt. As if to warn Istredd not to expect too much — except for maybe a nice splash of puke on his polished floors.
Istredd keeps his hand there just long enough for him to feel supported, but he doesn't want to be the person passing physical boundaries, so he lets it fall after a few moments. It did seem to get Wilhelm to relax long enough to think through his offer. A wave of relief hits him when he agrees, this will be good for everyone who was worried, and Wilhelm himself.
"You don't have to start today unless you want to. We are going to do it in the Horizon, I will make us a new space. You'll never have to worry about hurting anyone in here. I've trained myself here, and you may find the power flows better through you."
It would make sense if it was a gift from the Singularity. Of course it would like people to use it here. It gives Wilhelm the safety of being able to let loose, and also to get sick if he wants to. They can clean that up with a snap of their fingers after all. Istredd already has some ideas of where to start.
"Once you feel more in control and confident in this space, we will practice in the real world. Our magic works the same here and there, so by then you'll have the tools."
His body may have the memory here, so the adjustment will exist, but it will be small. This is much more about mental fortitude than anything else. Confidence is key.
"I've been doing magic for over sixty years. I promise I can help you and I know you can do this."
While he's tempted to dip out of the exit that Istredd holds open for him, Wilhelm knows that if he doesn't follow through today, it will be that much harder to work up the nerve tomorrow. He's already at the edge of the cliff, staring down into the water below: it's jump now, or jump never.
"I can start today," he forces himself to say. At his sides, his fingers pick at themselves. His eyes slide away from Istredd.
"Maybe...we could start with fire that's already there, instead of trying to make my own. I can control it a little bit."
And that half of his power doesn't seem to be entangled with the trauma that's blocking his fire. In Nott, he'd been able to bend the wall of flames away from his group a bit without his whole body rebelling. In the Horizon, too, when he'd accidentally landed in that burning monastery. Maybe it was just that he knew he couldn't possibly make either situation worse. Maybe it was because his fear flew outward instead of festering inward. He doesn't know.
Istredd is glad to hear him say he wants to try it now. It is easier to convince yourself to stop when not involved, but he did want to give him a chance. His smile is genuine and he nods.
"That's a good place to start. Follow me."
Istredd leads Wilhelm up one of the floors and through a section of books, so his mind can create one of those places that would be a reading nook for anyone else. For them though they step into this sudden open space that appears to be a wide open room with walls and everything made of stone. This is all very specifically chosen because it will be the safest if Wilhelm loses control of the fire. He wouldn't have to worry about books or the nice library feel of the front room.
It actually resembles very closely a room that he and his fellow mages were in as they began to train, so he's creating it from memory. Despite it being made all of stone it is light in there, all a formation of his mind. Istredd waits for Wilhelm to come in and get adjusted, it's a simple room after all.
"Ready?"
Istredd nods to him and then easily calls fire to him. His hands burst into flame but still seem very well contained to his palms, curling into small fireballs hovering there. A good easy place to start.
"As a mage, we channel magic, it's true energy, the life force of the world all around you. Energy can't be destroyed but it can be changed. What you're trying to do is tap into that energy and let it flow through you, don't see it as an exterior force."
He tossed the fireball up into the air as one might lob a softball.
"You can't hurt anything in here. Try to catch it and hold it in your hand."
He does not return Istredd's smile. By the time they arrive in the wide hall that Istredd fashions from a nook in the library, Wilhelm's heart feels like it's made of lead, it's knocking around so heavily inside his chest. Carefully measuring each breath, he feels like he's about to speak in front of a room full of people. His stomach flips; his legs feel like the beaten up, wobbly kind that belong to old chairs.
He follows the balls of flame with wary eyes as they form and then float. He tries to absorb Istredd's advice, but his head is already spinning too fast to hold much of it.
"Okay," he says with a stiff nod. Or he thinks he says it. His voice is small and tight.
Holding his hand out, steadying himself with a deep breath, Wilhelm reaches for the fire with his mind. He can feel its crackling edges somewhere under his skin, somewhere beyond touch. Though it's the last thing he actually wants, he wills the ball of flame to come toward him. Nothing happens for a moment — and then it starts to wobble and curl.
Istredd has never been afraid of his power but he has been around plenty of people who were. Some were better suited for magic than others, and the life that the mages were meant for. There was always overhanging fear of a kind, not unlike what exists in Thorne, for the mages who couldn't cut it usually didn't make it out. But magic itself? He's always loved it. It was the only thing he had.
But he is very patient for the fears he sees in others and if they were in a different situation he might have offered to help soothe some of Wilhelm's fears. It is easy for him, but if this is going to get anywhere, he has to learn how to do it on his own. Use the magic and self-soothe.
"Good, Wilhelm, you're doing well. Keep reaching. Bring it to you like you have an invisible leash around it."
Another time his advice might be different, and he is smart enough not to tell him to calm down. Lucifer has pointed out before that never actually makes people calmer. Instead he is supportive and reassuring, sustaining the flame so Wilhelm can manipulate it.
Wilhelm keeps trying — first of all, to believe Istredd. He can't hurt anyone here. He can't burn anything down. It's his faith in Istredd's power as a mage more so than any faith in himself that persuades him of the sturdiness these claims possess.
Second, to pull the flame toward him. He forces his breath into a slow, even rhythm; he feels the fire's energy. All his willpower pinpoints on the ball of flame, which stretches toward his hand, little by little, until finally...it falls into his palm. Well, not into it — it's still hovering in the air. But when he moves his hand, slowly, carefully, the flame stays with it.
He doesn't say anything, as if afraid that the fire will startle like a bird, but his relief is visible. Palpable, even. He looks to Istredd for the next instructions.
It would be impossible for Wilhelm in here to harm anything in Istredd's domain which is why it is the perfect place to practice. His strength in the Horizon is impressive since so much of it requires the mind, enough to help Wanda in the midst of her power during the heralds. Even when they're on the outside, Istredd is strong enough to contain most magic from a young user. As uncontrolled as it may be to them.
"Good job, you pulled it to you. This next thing, think of it like stretching or lifting weights. Watch me."
It's an exercise, intended to help Wilhelm learn how to fluctuate the intensity of it, and also so that he might have an easier time putting it out later. These are the fundamentals, it'll be some time before the boy is confident enough to do real fire magic, but it is good to start out small.
Istredd uses his own fireball and moves one hand to on top of the flame while the other stays at the bottom, hovering it in between. "Just as you reached out and felt the fire enough to pull it toward you, now feel it between your hands. I want you to try and grasp the energy with your top hand and then pull, stretching the fire between. Make it larger, longer."
He does exactly that, the flame growing longer as if stretching like a rope between his hands and then more volume in between the palms. "And then you push down and make it smaller, hold it down as close as you can." Istredd pushes until the ball is almost invisible, as if he could snuff it out between them. "Don't worry if it goes out or gets too large, it's all under control in here."
It's a little like stretching muscles you haven't used in a while. The movement is stiff at first, awkward as you get reacquainted with that part of yourself. But Wilhelm is starting to remember how it goes.
Holding the flame in his mind, he wills it to stay between his hands as he copies Istredd's position. The fact that nothing has gone catastrophically wrong in the last five minutes has, in fact, propped his confidence up a bit. With a slow breath in, he tries to stretch the flame out. It grows with the movement of his hand — and then slowly dwindles again as his palms gravitate toward each other.
He practices this a few more times, eyes flicking toward Istredd to seek feedback. On the next cycle of stoking and suffocating the fire, it flares up bigger than he expected, and his hands jerk away reflexively. Panic leaps into his expression.
"Fuck."
But the flame just tumbles harmlessly through the air like a tire spinning through mud. When he sees that, the tension trickles out of him.
Istredd keeps showing the exercise so that Wilhelm can copy it but he nods when he looks up for feedback, smiling at him reassuringly. So far he is doing a good job and it is supposed to be awkward in the start. The problem with a lot of teachers of rudimentary magics is how people want to move too fast through lessons. And get to the exciting part of magic, but control is necessary so exciting doesn't become lethal.
He watches when Wilhelm goes a little too large on the next one and doesn't reach out to stop it or stifle it himself, since he wants to watch how the boy reacts to it first. With panic, yes, but that's fine because letting it drop or die out is the right reaction.
"It's alright, it is normal in the start. The first time I used any of the elements I messed them all up in unique and embarrassing ways. You are doing great." It is a funny thing because some people think if it is a natural skill it should come naturally, but that is just not the case. "Let us try another thing. Don't panic, this is contained."
He warns about the panic because it is going to seem big for a moment. Istredd steps back and he widens his flame until it is very large, spreading halfway through the room they're in, although none of us it is actually near Wilhelm. Fire is not his strongest element but it is easy in here to keep it enclosed.
"What I want you to do is find pieces of the fire I created and pull them toward you like you did with the ball. You can do one at a time. Take then to your hand but this time I want you to snuff them out. Push your hands together and picture it like you would a candle and you pinching out the flame."
It is more difficult picking out pieces but Istredd's plan is to get him used to having to put out fires. It may help him do the same in the real world.
He breathes in, deep and slow and steady, trying to sharpen his focus and dispel his nerves. Over and over again, he reminds himself that he can't hurt anyone or wreck anything in here. If he fucks up, the worst that can happen is that Istredd will make him try again. The man's unshakeable serenity once irritated Wilhelm, but now he finds it to be a reservoir he can tap.
"It's hard to imagine you messing anything up so badly," he says, shaking his head. But that's reassuring too. Everyone here was already gifted with magic and skills they'd honed to perfection before they were ever summoned. That made it easy to forget that they all once had to have been beginners like him.
Watching the fire flare into a wall, he keeps pulling in breath and pushing it out. He grounds himself like Kyle taught him to. When he's ready, he tries calling the fire to him. A tongue stretches away and breaks off, forming a ball that tumbles toward his outstretched hand. It takes a few tries, but eventually the flame puffs out. And through the failed attempts, though he can feels its warmth fanning out over his palms, the flame doesn't burn him.
The next flame he culls from the wall dies in fewer attempts. After about a dozen extinguished fireballs, Wilhelm can snuff it in one.
Istredd smiles faintly. "I burned my classmate's hair off by accident. Almost all of it. I wasn't good at controlling air and blew it right into him. I wasn't able to control the fire at all then. Luckily the hair is the only thing that he lost, and it grew back. Very slowly." He has a dozen stories, at least one or two of every type of magic, that had to be failed at before mastering.
Harder stories too, than that one, but it's a light one on purpose. It's so Wilhelm understands this is all a stepping stone to where he'll get some day if he wants to. No one is just born good at this. Istredd maintains the fire and watches as Wilhelm works on the fire, determined and consistent, and he is genuinely impressed. It is a shift you can feel, when someone starts to excel at it.
Istredd pulls the fire back in, going from a wall down and down until he snuffs out the entire thing himself. He can do it faster, but he is intentionally doing it the way he showed Wilhelm, so he can see it work.
"That was impressive, Wilhelm. I want you to take a minute and really think about what you just accomplished. And then I want you to create the flame yourself and do the same thing with it."
In the flickering light of the fire, dimming as Istredd dismantles is, Wilhelm actually looks proud of himself. Then from that high, he comes spiraling down. Wax wings too close to the sun and all that. Anxiety cracks his expression, draws his hands into knots at his side.
"Okay, I'll...I'll try."
Closing his eyes, Wilhelm tries to keep his breathing measured, in and out like before, but his chest suddenly feels tighter. Everything feels tighter: his shoulders, the skin around his knuckles, the hall around him, which was so cavernous a moment ago. He tries to focus on what he's accomplished, as Istredd instructed. He'd called the fire to him; he'd controlled it; he'd dismissed it. He can do it again.
He tries to follow the same path that used to lead him to that inner flame. Grasp all the things that ignite his rage and let them burn. Drawing in a sharp breath, he feels a prickle of heat in his palm — and choking on it, he feels his stomach lurch.
His body isn't even really here; it's on his bed back in the castle. Here, his stomach is empty; you can't really eat in the Horizon. It's all in his head. But that's where the problem is too, some neural link sabotaging him when he tries to spark fire, some knot of trauma tangling him up.
He tries to push through it. His breathing breaks the confines of the careful intervals he's set, his stomach flops around like a fish out of water, and no flame comes. Finally, Wilhelm shakes his head. Frustrated, he holds his head in his hands. He says nothing, waiting for the nausea to still.
Istredd can tell right away this is going to be the source of Wilhelm's problem for a long time. It isn't his magic that is truly the problem, it is all the emotions around it, and the anxiety it is creating. He is very in tune with other people, especially in his own domain, so he is concerned when he can tell something has gone wrong.
Stregobor would have been vicious. With mage training, going gentle was never an option. Their patience only lasted so long and if you didn't succeed, you had a much worse fate to live through. He pushed and Istredd sometimes pushes too, leading him to remember who he didn't want to be. Lucifer taunted him once, and it hit the mark. You were robbed of a choice, mm? Why should they get one? Because you didn't? It worked in getting under his skin, and it's why he closes the space between them.
"It's alright, Wilhelm. Take a deep breath, in and out." Without thinking about it, he puts a hand on Wilhelm's shoulder, gentle, supportive. Sometimes Stregobor did that too, but it was manipulative, and Istredd is not that. "Look at me." He hopes that Wilhelm will do exactly that, blue eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I pushed you too fast." This is a deeper trauma than he thought and a deeper trigger. He shouldn't be pushing when it was this hard to get Wilhelm here.
"We'll get there. It's a process. We're going to do this the opposite way. You tell me when you want to try that again. And until you do, we'll keep doing our fire manipulation training." Because that is what they were doing. Wilhelm was manipulating fire that Istredd himself created, but he was doing it well. They still have a lot to learn there. And by putting the power of choice in Wilhelm's hands about when he feels ready, it makes it less likely he'll get back to this place.
Istredd's hand on his shoulder acts as an anchor as Wilhelm gulps down air and tries to pull himself together. Tries not to puke, clamping his lips together and swallowing. Tries not to cry, pinching his eyes shut. His fingers tighten in his hair, and his elbows form a barricade around his face, through which he peeks when Istredd encourages him, Look at me. He feels weak, and stupid, and stuck.
"I don't get why I can't just do it," he mutters, the words burning in his throat. "I know nothing that bad can happen. It's not like my magic is powerful enough to do that on its own, but —"
He lets go of an unsteady breath, lets his arms swing away from his face. He steps back, eyes leaving Istredd.
"I don't know, I just get so freaked out."
Every time he reaches for that fire burning somewhere inside, he hurtles back to that searing moment fireballs swallowed Libertas and, as he did in the catatonic days that followed, he shuts down. He worries that he'll never be ready. The memory will never heal, but continue to fester. Istredd's offer is kind, but he's just prolonging the inevitable: eventually, he would realize that he has wasted his time on Wilhelm.
Istredd lets him go once he moves away, wanting him to find his own way of centering. It does not look good though, he is struggling deeply. Lucifer was not wrong when he said Wilhelm was dangerous to himself. Fixing that was going to take time.
"Because the mind and emotions are very powerful, and if they aren't in perfect concert, they can block people. I've been a mage for over sixty years, and I can still get in my own way." Usually because of emotions. They are definitely the worst, and he is so calm and centered in part to try and keep them from messing him up. But he has them, strongly, under the surface. Istredd is much older than he looks, obviously.
"If you truly think you're responsible for what happened, no one can convince you otherwise. You're holding that in your head and heart. But it also only just happened a few months ago. The trauma hasn't faded from most people." Istredd can only imagine how much trauma still hangs over everyone in Free Cities, having witnessed and experienced it firsthand. The aftermath of that attack effects all of the Summoned, but it's to different levels of tragedy and trauma.
"Give yourself time. Whether it seems obvious to you now or not, the fire manipulation we're working on will help you. The stronger your mind is with magic in general, the better your reaction time will be."
He's trying to follow Istredd's words, because they provide something to tie his fraying focus to — something other than the amorphous dread sloshing around inside of him, swallowing him whole. Give yourself time. Wilhelm is tired of waiting to feel okay. Every fucking day is an obstacle course to get through. He rubs at his chest, trying to clear the weight that's clumped there.
Whatever answer he's halfway through forming, it scatters as his stomach heaves again. Gagging, he doubles over and tries to hold it down, but it surges up his throat. Splat, right on the stately floor. He spits out the taste of vomit, wipes the heel of his hand across his mouth. Even when he straightens up, his gaze stays on the floor.
"Sorry."
Eyes closed, Wilhelm pushes his hands through his hair, slowly, like the breath he sucks in. He hates losing it where he can be watched.
"I need to..." Leave. Be alone. Get his shit together. He shakes his head again. "Sorry. Can we try this again tomorrow? I just...need a break."
Istredd's never seen anyone let themselves get sick in here, which means that this is very deep into Wilhelm's psyche. He is struggling with something so severe mentally that he can convince his body to vomit. That's some deep issues. He is concerned for certain, waving a hand and the vomit simply disappears, because it isn't real here. None of this is real.
"You don't have to be sorry. It's fine, Wilhelm. I'm glad you're willing to keep trying. That's important." Rather than give up, which would help no one. Istredd can't help him in this situation until they work more together and he puts himself in a position where he can provide more guidance.
He nods in the rushed way of someone trying to end a conversation fast. Embarrassment explodes among the volatile cocktail of emotions mixed inside of him. Istredd's sympathy both makes him feel better and worse about all of this. Better, because it means mercy — he won't make him stay and try more magic in spite of his meltdown. Worse, because it probably means he's the most pathetic thing the guy has ever seen in all his years of practicing magecraft. Cool.
"I'll...see you tomorrow," Wilhelm says brusquely, turning to leave. It's after a few steps that he remembers he can just vanish from the Horizon at will, and he does so, unceremoniously.
It would be hard to come back, but he will force himself. Maybe Istredd is right, and strengthening his control over fire in general will someday make it easier to spark his own. And if he's wrong, and the problem is as insurmountable as it feels to Wilhelm right now, then maybe practicing his magic will at least prevent it from exploding out of him unwanted.
He was right about one thing: Wilhelm cannot stay stuck where he is forever.
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Istredd has gotten better about remarking on his close relationship with Yennefer, especially in Thorne and around places where he can be heard. Lucifer and Yennefer both taught him a lesson about that, and Geralt underlined it, so he has been more cautious. But he is stating it now so Wilhelm can see that this could have gone very different. Istredd means what he says, he is understanding, and he knows from experience how easily it can get out of hand. Not that Yennefer would be as forgiving, but that's her, and he doesn't pretend to speak for her.
He goes over a few things he wants to say, a lot of advice, a lot of experience, but in the end he takes in a deep breath and lets it out. "What do you want? Are you happy with where you are right now?"
no subject
Crushed under the weight of guilt. Waiting for the guillotine to fall, the bomb to detonate. While he isn't shouting, a sharp edge glints in his voice.
"Everyone keeps saying that it wasn't my fault. You, Kyle, Rhy. But it was my fault. It doesn't matter if it was an accident, that just means that guy got killed because I made a stupid mistake, and your friend got hurt too. A whole city was burned to the ground because I couldn't...I couldn't do one simple fucking thing right."
Feeling a prickling sneaking up behind his eyes, he sucks in a breath and expels it slowly. His gaze glides up the curving shelves and terraces that comprise Istredd's tower. What do you want? Hardly anyone has asked him that in his life.
"I...don't want this power anymore. If I could just get rid of it, I would."
Like when panic starts cannibalizing him, and he wishes he could claw his way out of his skin.
no subject
"You are not responsible for the actions of other people. That takes away the concept of choice, of individualism. The queen chose to attack the Free Cities, she wanted to do that. Whoever attacked Yennefer wanted to do that, and someone else killed that mage. Thorne didn't give us clear context with our instructions, leading to confusion and fear, that is on them. You are responsible for your actions. The consequences you can take on your shoulders and learn from them, but it doesn't mean you did any of that."
Istredd sounds sincere and confident in what he is saying because he is. The consequences of his own actions are his, and he understands that, having made plenty that still hang over him now. Things he would do differently if he could.
"But that means your actions now also matter, Wilhelm. If you truly believe that you hold some responsibility for what happened then the right thing to do is learn how to use them so you don't do it again. Some part of you has to know that these powers aren't going to just go away."
Istredd knows what he's talking about, more so than he can ever press, but hopefully the way he's speaking, the certainty in his tone, makes it clear he is speaking from personal experience.
"The one way you never have to worry about your magic again is learning how to use it, because once it is under control, once that fear doesn't hang over you, you can master it, and leave it."
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Then he leans hard into the topic of Wilhelm's magic, and Wilhelm just shakes his head — it would be nearly imperceptible if he did it only once, but the movement is continuous. No, no, no. He used to do this to his mother when he didn't like what she was telling him. His arms cross and his lips thin.
"I can't," he finally says. His voice is half teenage obstinance, half fear creeping in. "I can't...I can't do it."
He swallows, eyes shiny, looking anywhere but at the man standing in front of him. Knowing that Istredd will press for a reason, he pushes it out.
"When I try, I just...I start to feel like I'm going to throw up. I actually did, once. But I can't get any fire to come out. That's why I thought it would be better to quit. The problem sort of...solved itself."
Except it hadn't. For weeks, his fire lay dormant inside of him, hiding in his bones, or wherever magic goes when you're not using it. He tried to forget about it, but his brain has always been shit at letting things go. Then at the banquet...he'd gotten upset at Lucifer, not-so-old scars poked and prodded open, and his fire cracked awake. It pressed at his palms, burning to get out.
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"You can. You're making yourself sick because you're denying something that is a part of you now. I know it's not fair and you didn't ask for this, but it's as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. That's magic. Think of it like the energy that powers your heart, that zips through your brain. It's all connected in your life-force." Istredd knows this reality well, it's exactly what mages have to live with in his world. Taken from homes and families and accept the reality.
"The important part is you are not alone. There are people all around you who care. It's not weak to accept help." Istredd is getting a little better at being a teacher every day. It is a skill he never attempted at, but now he is starting to like it.
"If I could guarantee a way to help you use your magic where you can't hurt anyone or anything, would you consider it?"
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It was that mindset that led him to try activating the tarot card on his own, calling on his untested fire to do the job instead of relying on Kell's skill. And it was that mindest that shut him up in isolation afterward, falling apart where nobody could stumble over the pieces.
Holding his face, massaging fingers into eyes squeezed shut, Wilhelm pushes out a sigh. He nods, reluctantly at first, but then committing.
"Fine." His hands fall away from his face. "I'll...try."
Even in just this handful of words there wobbles doubt. As if to warn Istredd not to expect too much — except for maybe a nice splash of puke on his polished floors.
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"You don't have to start today unless you want to. We are going to do it in the Horizon, I will make us a new space. You'll never have to worry about hurting anyone in here. I've trained myself here, and you may find the power flows better through you."
It would make sense if it was a gift from the Singularity. Of course it would like people to use it here. It gives Wilhelm the safety of being able to let loose, and also to get sick if he wants to. They can clean that up with a snap of their fingers after all. Istredd already has some ideas of where to start.
"Once you feel more in control and confident in this space, we will practice in the real world. Our magic works the same here and there, so by then you'll have the tools."
His body may have the memory here, so the adjustment will exist, but it will be small. This is much more about mental fortitude than anything else. Confidence is key.
"I've been doing magic for over sixty years. I promise I can help you and I know you can do this."
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"I can start today," he forces himself to say. At his sides, his fingers pick at themselves. His eyes slide away from Istredd.
"Maybe...we could start with fire that's already there, instead of trying to make my own. I can control it a little bit."
And that half of his power doesn't seem to be entangled with the trauma that's blocking his fire. In Nott, he'd been able to bend the wall of flames away from his group a bit without his whole body rebelling. In the Horizon, too, when he'd accidentally landed in that burning monastery. Maybe it was just that he knew he couldn't possibly make either situation worse. Maybe it was because his fear flew outward instead of festering inward. He doesn't know.
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"That's a good place to start. Follow me."
Istredd leads Wilhelm up one of the floors and through a section of books, so his mind can create one of those places that would be a reading nook for anyone else. For them though they step into this sudden open space that appears to be a wide open room with walls and everything made of stone. This is all very specifically chosen because it will be the safest if Wilhelm loses control of the fire. He wouldn't have to worry about books or the nice library feel of the front room.
It actually resembles very closely a room that he and his fellow mages were in as they began to train, so he's creating it from memory. Despite it being made all of stone it is light in there, all a formation of his mind. Istredd waits for Wilhelm to come in and get adjusted, it's a simple room after all.
"Ready?"
Istredd nods to him and then easily calls fire to him. His hands burst into flame but still seem very well contained to his palms, curling into small fireballs hovering there. A good easy place to start.
"As a mage, we channel magic, it's true energy, the life force of the world all around you. Energy can't be destroyed but it can be changed. What you're trying to do is tap into that energy and let it flow through you, don't see it as an exterior force."
He tossed the fireball up into the air as one might lob a softball.
"You can't hurt anything in here. Try to catch it and hold it in your hand."
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He follows the balls of flame with wary eyes as they form and then float. He tries to absorb Istredd's advice, but his head is already spinning too fast to hold much of it.
"Okay," he says with a stiff nod. Or he thinks he says it. His voice is small and tight.
Holding his hand out, steadying himself with a deep breath, Wilhelm reaches for the fire with his mind. He can feel its crackling edges somewhere under his skin, somewhere beyond touch. Though it's the last thing he actually wants, he wills the ball of flame to come toward him. Nothing happens for a moment — and then it starts to wobble and curl.
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But he is very patient for the fears he sees in others and if they were in a different situation he might have offered to help soothe some of Wilhelm's fears. It is easy for him, but if this is going to get anywhere, he has to learn how to do it on his own. Use the magic and self-soothe.
"Good, Wilhelm, you're doing well. Keep reaching. Bring it to you like you have an invisible leash around it."
Another time his advice might be different, and he is smart enough not to tell him to calm down. Lucifer has pointed out before that never actually makes people calmer. Instead he is supportive and reassuring, sustaining the flame so Wilhelm can manipulate it.
"You are safe here and you can do this."
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Second, to pull the flame toward him. He forces his breath into a slow, even rhythm; he feels the fire's energy. All his willpower pinpoints on the ball of flame, which stretches toward his hand, little by little, until finally...it falls into his palm. Well, not into it — it's still hovering in the air. But when he moves his hand, slowly, carefully, the flame stays with it.
He doesn't say anything, as if afraid that the fire will startle like a bird, but his relief is visible. Palpable, even. He looks to Istredd for the next instructions.
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"Good job, you pulled it to you. This next thing, think of it like stretching or lifting weights. Watch me."
It's an exercise, intended to help Wilhelm learn how to fluctuate the intensity of it, and also so that he might have an easier time putting it out later. These are the fundamentals, it'll be some time before the boy is confident enough to do real fire magic, but it is good to start out small.
Istredd uses his own fireball and moves one hand to on top of the flame while the other stays at the bottom, hovering it in between. "Just as you reached out and felt the fire enough to pull it toward you, now feel it between your hands. I want you to try and grasp the energy with your top hand and then pull, stretching the fire between. Make it larger, longer."
He does exactly that, the flame growing longer as if stretching like a rope between his hands and then more volume in between the palms. "And then you push down and make it smaller, hold it down as close as you can." Istredd pushes until the ball is almost invisible, as if he could snuff it out between them. "Don't worry if it goes out or gets too large, it's all under control in here."
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Holding the flame in his mind, he wills it to stay between his hands as he copies Istredd's position. The fact that nothing has gone catastrophically wrong in the last five minutes has, in fact, propped his confidence up a bit. With a slow breath in, he tries to stretch the flame out. It grows with the movement of his hand — and then slowly dwindles again as his palms gravitate toward each other.
He practices this a few more times, eyes flicking toward Istredd to seek feedback. On the next cycle of stoking and suffocating the fire, it flares up bigger than he expected, and his hands jerk away reflexively. Panic leaps into his expression.
"Fuck."
But the flame just tumbles harmlessly through the air like a tire spinning through mud. When he sees that, the tension trickles out of him.
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He watches when Wilhelm goes a little too large on the next one and doesn't reach out to stop it or stifle it himself, since he wants to watch how the boy reacts to it first. With panic, yes, but that's fine because letting it drop or die out is the right reaction.
"It's alright, it is normal in the start. The first time I used any of the elements I messed them all up in unique and embarrassing ways. You are doing great." It is a funny thing because some people think if it is a natural skill it should come naturally, but that is just not the case. "Let us try another thing. Don't panic, this is contained."
He warns about the panic because it is going to seem big for a moment. Istredd steps back and he widens his flame until it is very large, spreading halfway through the room they're in, although none of us it is actually near Wilhelm. Fire is not his strongest element but it is easy in here to keep it enclosed.
"What I want you to do is find pieces of the fire I created and pull them toward you like you did with the ball. You can do one at a time. Take then to your hand but this time I want you to snuff them out. Push your hands together and picture it like you would a candle and you pinching out the flame."
It is more difficult picking out pieces but Istredd's plan is to get him used to having to put out fires. It may help him do the same in the real world.
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"It's hard to imagine you messing anything up so badly," he says, shaking his head. But that's reassuring too. Everyone here was already gifted with magic and skills they'd honed to perfection before they were ever summoned. That made it easy to forget that they all once had to have been beginners like him.
Watching the fire flare into a wall, he keeps pulling in breath and pushing it out. He grounds himself like Kyle taught him to. When he's ready, he tries calling the fire to him. A tongue stretches away and breaks off, forming a ball that tumbles toward his outstretched hand. It takes a few tries, but eventually the flame puffs out. And through the failed attempts, though he can feels its warmth fanning out over his palms, the flame doesn't burn him.
The next flame he culls from the wall dies in fewer attempts. After about a dozen extinguished fireballs, Wilhelm can snuff it in one.
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Harder stories too, than that one, but it's a light one on purpose. It's so Wilhelm understands this is all a stepping stone to where he'll get some day if he wants to. No one is just born good at this. Istredd maintains the fire and watches as Wilhelm works on the fire, determined and consistent, and he is genuinely impressed. It is a shift you can feel, when someone starts to excel at it.
Istredd pulls the fire back in, going from a wall down and down until he snuffs out the entire thing himself. He can do it faster, but he is intentionally doing it the way he showed Wilhelm, so he can see it work.
"That was impressive, Wilhelm. I want you to take a minute and really think about what you just accomplished. And then I want you to create the flame yourself and do the same thing with it."
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"Okay, I'll...I'll try."
Closing his eyes, Wilhelm tries to keep his breathing measured, in and out like before, but his chest suddenly feels tighter. Everything feels tighter: his shoulders, the skin around his knuckles, the hall around him, which was so cavernous a moment ago. He tries to focus on what he's accomplished, as Istredd instructed. He'd called the fire to him; he'd controlled it; he'd dismissed it. He can do it again.
He tries to follow the same path that used to lead him to that inner flame. Grasp all the things that ignite his rage and let them burn. Drawing in a sharp breath, he feels a prickle of heat in his palm — and choking on it, he feels his stomach lurch.
His body isn't even really here; it's on his bed back in the castle. Here, his stomach is empty; you can't really eat in the Horizon. It's all in his head. But that's where the problem is too, some neural link sabotaging him when he tries to spark fire, some knot of trauma tangling him up.
He tries to push through it. His breathing breaks the confines of the careful intervals he's set, his stomach flops around like a fish out of water, and no flame comes. Finally, Wilhelm shakes his head. Frustrated, he holds his head in his hands. He says nothing, waiting for the nausea to still.
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Stregobor would have been vicious. With mage training, going gentle was never an option. Their patience only lasted so long and if you didn't succeed, you had a much worse fate to live through. He pushed and Istredd sometimes pushes too, leading him to remember who he didn't want to be. Lucifer taunted him once, and it hit the mark. You were robbed of a choice, mm? Why should they get one? Because you didn't? It worked in getting under his skin, and it's why he closes the space between them.
"It's alright, Wilhelm. Take a deep breath, in and out." Without thinking about it, he puts a hand on Wilhelm's shoulder, gentle, supportive. Sometimes Stregobor did that too, but it was manipulative, and Istredd is not that. "Look at me." He hopes that Wilhelm will do exactly that, blue eyes apologetic. "I'm sorry, it was my fault. I pushed you too fast." This is a deeper trauma than he thought and a deeper trigger. He shouldn't be pushing when it was this hard to get Wilhelm here.
"We'll get there. It's a process. We're going to do this the opposite way. You tell me when you want to try that again. And until you do, we'll keep doing our fire manipulation training." Because that is what they were doing. Wilhelm was manipulating fire that Istredd himself created, but he was doing it well. They still have a lot to learn there. And by putting the power of choice in Wilhelm's hands about when he feels ready, it makes it less likely he'll get back to this place.
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"I don't get why I can't just do it," he mutters, the words burning in his throat. "I know nothing that bad can happen. It's not like my magic is powerful enough to do that on its own, but —"
He lets go of an unsteady breath, lets his arms swing away from his face. He steps back, eyes leaving Istredd.
"I don't know, I just get so freaked out."
Every time he reaches for that fire burning somewhere inside, he hurtles back to that searing moment fireballs swallowed Libertas and, as he did in the catatonic days that followed, he shuts down. He worries that he'll never be ready. The memory will never heal, but continue to fester. Istredd's offer is kind, but he's just prolonging the inevitable: eventually, he would realize that he has wasted his time on Wilhelm.
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"Because the mind and emotions are very powerful, and if they aren't in perfect concert, they can block people. I've been a mage for over sixty years, and I can still get in my own way." Usually because of emotions. They are definitely the worst, and he is so calm and centered in part to try and keep them from messing him up. But he has them, strongly, under the surface. Istredd is much older than he looks, obviously.
"If you truly think you're responsible for what happened, no one can convince you otherwise. You're holding that in your head and heart. But it also only just happened a few months ago. The trauma hasn't faded from most people." Istredd can only imagine how much trauma still hangs over everyone in Free Cities, having witnessed and experienced it firsthand. The aftermath of that attack effects all of the Summoned, but it's to different levels of tragedy and trauma.
"Give yourself time. Whether it seems obvious to you now or not, the fire manipulation we're working on will help you. The stronger your mind is with magic in general, the better your reaction time will be."
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Whatever answer he's halfway through forming, it scatters as his stomach heaves again. Gagging, he doubles over and tries to hold it down, but it surges up his throat. Splat, right on the stately floor. He spits out the taste of vomit, wipes the heel of his hand across his mouth. Even when he straightens up, his gaze stays on the floor.
"Sorry."
Eyes closed, Wilhelm pushes his hands through his hair, slowly, like the breath he sucks in. He hates losing it where he can be watched.
"I need to..." Leave. Be alone. Get his shit together. He shakes his head again. "Sorry. Can we try this again tomorrow? I just...need a break."
we can wrap here or on yours!
"You don't have to be sorry. It's fine, Wilhelm. I'm glad you're willing to keep trying. That's important." Rather than give up, which would help no one. Istredd can't help him in this situation until they work more together and he puts himself in a position where he can provide more guidance.
His gaze is sympathetic. "Go get some rest."
the end
"I'll...see you tomorrow," Wilhelm says brusquely, turning to leave. It's after a few steps that he remembers he can just vanish from the Horizon at will, and he does so, unceremoniously.
It would be hard to come back, but he will force himself. Maybe Istredd is right, and strengthening his control over fire in general will someday make it easier to spark his own. And if he's wrong, and the problem is as insurmountable as it feels to Wilhelm right now, then maybe practicing his magic will at least prevent it from exploding out of him unwanted.
He was right about one thing: Wilhelm cannot stay stuck where he is forever.