"Magic", as is generally described in Maradul, is the act of imposing one's will upon the world and in doing so, twisting it from its natural order to that of one's desire. The process of doing so, however, is not monolithic, and what one considers "magical" will vary from person to person; a man generating a spontaneous conflagration may indeed seem magical to many, while a dignitary that manages to change the mind of a very stubborn king is instead generally seen as a bizarre circumstance of fortune, but not necessarily magical. It might be more apt to describe magic as a significant subversion of how one expects the world to operate, fantasy made reality. Yet, all magic really is is an obfuscation of methodology; the man who combusts the air itself does so by lighting puffs of dust on fire using a strike-pad hidden up his sleeve, and the dignitary was in fact a mistweaver that forcibly altered the reasoning of the king. I would argue that both were still magic.
Parlor tricks aside, magic in Maradul can be split very broadly into two major categories: starwoven and mistwoven magic. Starweavers will dramatically insist that their practice is, in fact, not magical in any way and that such an accusation is a grave insult to their craft, but I will only stop referring to their rituals as magic once someone can produce for me a simple farmhand that can set the skies ablaze as I have seen starweavers do. To the layman, and in point most men, that is magic, and I will call it such. The primary difference between starwoven and mistwoven magic is based on a contrast of both procedure and source, source in this case being where the power to fuel their magic comes from.
Starweavers derive their abilities from the eponymous stars, which are said to denote the very laws of the world as once dictated by Sevantus himself. Starweavers obsessively study these laws, and as I understand it, by discovering abstract "loopholes" between the stars' various constellations (which denote relationships between laws, or stars, it's all much too complicated), they are able to manifest wonders of elemental power and feats of great strength that defy the physical laws us common folk hold so dear. A starweaver would likely object to this description, as most see their work to be bound by the laws of Sevantus, and as such are pure applications of the "guiding starlight" or whatever fanatical doctrines they worship. Interestingly, I am told that while some have a natural talent for growth, with enough time and dedication, almost anyone can become a starweaver. It's just too bad that the practice appears to drive most of them to hermitage or zealotry.
Mistweavers, on the other hand, are a wholly different set of anomalies, and if I was given the time and a sizeable research grant, I could fill the shelves of Palthian's library with myriad tomes of all the specific and individual classifications and applications that have been and still are endlessly created by these dangerous but fascinating fools. Mistweavers, as their name suggests, evoke the powers of the Great Mist by essentially inviting its chaos into Maradul at specified localities and utilizing its inherently disordered qualities to invalidate or twist the very laws of our reality to their whim, provided they manifest their magic correctly. For example, a mistweaver may wish to commit the dangerous feat of evoking a great bolt of lightning from their finger. Constrained by their incantations, they would pull the Mist into Maradul at their fingertip (this is in actuality much more abstract) and twist reality such that at that space, lightning would appear, as would be the natural order for the fleeting "new reality" they created. If the prospect of mistweavers essentially creating new worlds of restructured reality disturbs you, it should; the fallout of mistwoven experiments and their effects upon Maradul are well documented, and I do not believe I need expound upon them here. Thankfully, you can take solace in knowing that mistweaving is extremely difficult, and without the assistance of a filtration system like a Mist Scion, it would generally result in the expiration of the individual long before the effects of their magic could have a greater impact. However, those that are not consumed by the Mist will find themselves increasingly more capable of altering larger regions of reality for longer periods, and may eventually become Mist Scions themselves, such as in the case of Ynathra, the Queen of Curses. Mist Scions, for those who are not aware, are great mistweavers that are so accomplished that they have managed to systematize their magic and teach it to others, and act as "focal points" or "anchors" that users will filter their magic through. A common example of this would be the clerical magic of Verae, a natural Mist Scion. Without getting too far into the weeds, it is even possible to have lesser scions of Mist Scions, who narrow and refine their magic even further. This practice is commonly observed in various religious schools of magic.
I have discovered, through both research and observation, that most common magicians have absolutely no idea what it is they are doing. They may THINK they understand; many will devote years of painstaking study to mastering the clerical arts or memorizing inane and complex rituals, but these are merely demonstrate surface level comprehension of something much more wild and abstract. Leaving my explanation at that, apt as I believe it is, might do little to satisfy the scientific inquiry of one who has not surrounded themselves by the study of this esoteric practice, so what follows is a rather simplistic and perhaps inaccurate series of assumptions I have gathered in order to placate your misguided appetites. Do bear in mind that this is only in reference to mistwoven magic. First, we must assume magic is a subversion of the natural order, as originally dictated by the slumbering Sevantus and later iterated upon by Keiva, Nothum, and Palthian. Second, we assume that magic is a result of an invocation of the Great Mists, which is a power capable of undoing and rearranging the natural order. As peasantry is incapable of summoning thunderstorms, we must assume that invoking the Great Mist requires both knowledge, action, and quite importantly, cost. Under these assumptions, the basis of utilizing magic can generally be broken down into these steps:
- Entreatment - a gap in reality is wrenched apart in order to begin the magical transaction. This might be by way of a tool, ritual, Mist Scion, or even natural inclination. I've seen individuals accomplish this simply by asking nicely. This opens a user up to the Mists.
- Compensation - a price must be paid in order to invoke the Mists. Whether the magician pays this or a benefactor does, I staunchly believe that Basriel must be paid their dues one way or another. Otherwise, the laws of Sevantus would remain intact.
- Invocation - a space dependent on the price paid will become superimposed by the will of the caster. For the rest of our example, let's say our theoretical magician has designated an area in which water flows upwards instead of down.
- Dominance - in order to maintain this effect, the user must dictate their new law upon the space they have created against the indeterminable chaos of the Great Mists. This allows the water to continue flowing up. This also often leads to death and insanity.
- Withdrawal - the influence of the Mists is removed, and the contract ends. Water stops flowing up. (Some spells forgo this part. This is generally a bad idea. As spells age, they begin to forget what they were for in the first place, and well...kindly refer to the Sporing Vilewood.)
Different "schools" of "magic" might accomplish these steps in their own "unique" and "special" ways. A cleric might offer payment to their deity instead of the maddening nothingness of the mist void, and a witch's invocations may be ancient rituals that she has no need to truly comprehend. And they might both foolishly choose to argue againt my classifications with their pathetic anectdotes of gleaming self importance, to which I probably would not respond, because at the end of the day, most magicians do not truly wish to understand what they are doing as they are rather pleased to have been doing anything at all. In fact, the very concept of achieveing a greater comprehension of the inner workings of their craft may indeed terrify them, as they might believe that such knowledge will somehow corrupt their magic and cause it to cease functioning. I have met many such people. Please do not be one of them.
You might have noticed I mentioned a little outer god named Basriel. How silly of me to not pontificate in detail on what I believe to the be single most important aspect of magic and possibly the only reason most of it is possible in the first place! That is because the very existence of Basriel is a hotly debated topic amongst my peers, and while I am happy to offer my editorial comments intermittently, I will not argue them. If you are not in the know, all I will say is this: all magic exacts a cost, that cost must end up somewhere, and there is significant evidence to suggest that it might end up in the theoretical pockets of an impartial, unassuming, Mist-Born deity. Food for thought, but I didn't feed it to you if anyone asks.
I will not pretend that I can offer a comprehensive breakdown of all the schools of magic in Maradul; what follows are simply well-known and broad categories of practice.
- Starwoven Magic
- School of Thurgos
- School of Asastria
- Way of the Golden Thread
- Mistwoven Magic
- Verae
- Church of Grain
- Church of Bountiful Largesse
- Exgalaien Church
- Way of the Shepherd
- Verae