The mood was tense after that statement. Stiles was trying very hard to keep his emotions under control and to not blow up at that sanctimonious asshole standing in front of him while Mike wondered how he should teach the other boy when their difference of opinion set them against each other before they even had the chance to start.
"Follow me," Mike finally broke the silence.
"Where to?" Stiles wanted to know.
"Outside," Mike replied. "This –" he indicated towards Deaton´s surgery "– isn't really the place for what I´m about to tell you."
"There´s a little clearing a few minutes from here in the reservation," Deaton suddenly commented and Stiles nearly had a stroke from being surprised by the stealthy vet. "I think it offers the right atmosphere for Mr Stilinski´s first foray into magic." He kept his expression completely emotionless, but nevertheless Stiles had the feeling that it was more of an order than an advice.
"If you say so," Mike murmured. "You´re coming?" Stiles didn't reply, but he did follow the other male.
They spent the three minutes it took them to reach the clearing Deaton had described in silence, neither of them having anything to say to the other. The clearing itself wasn't that big, but it was lush and blotched with daisies, so that it nearly looked as if a blanket of snow had been draped over the grass.
"I don't think we should continue harking at each other because of our different opinions," Mike said after they both had found a comfortable spot to sit and Stiles didn't even bother to hide the ugly snort that made it out of his throat. Different opinion was a diplomatic way to express the irreconcilable differences between the two of them. Luckily, though, Stiles didn't need to become friends with the other; he just needed to get enough control and knowledge so that he wouldn't blow himself and his friends up the first time he would get a little emotional.
"Just teach me something," Stiles replied and Mike sighed. Then, composing himself, he straightened his posture and started talking:
"As Deaton probably told you already the difference between a spark and a mage is that a mage attains his power by absorbing the very energy around him and using his mind to give this directionless energy a purpose." Stiles nodded. Deaton had already told him that much. "Every living being generates energy. An animal more than a plant, humans more than animals. Some scholars think it´s because humans are more 'alive' than animals, other postulate that it is linked to the amount of creativity an individual exhibits. Another factor is age: The Amazonas and its thousands of years old eco-system generate more energy than a two-hundred-years old Midwestern town in the US. Beacon Hill is quite the exception to that; it´s probably got to do something with the Hales and their century old patronage over these lands."
"That´s also the main reason why you mainly find mages in big cities or old ecosystems," Mike continued. "Every act of magic requires a proportional amount of energy. If I let a pebble float in New York it is a barely noticeable strain on my stamina as the energy is replaced so fast by the city´s population that my mind has barely time to register that there is an exchange of energy at all. On the other side if I did the same thing in a low-energy area it would physical weaken me because the energy needs to be taken from a wider area which is more taxing on mind and body alike."
"That sounds like the system from Eragon," Stiles pointed out and Mike had to smile at that comparison.
"I suppose they have some similarities," he admitted. "Maybe the author is a mage or knows one?"
"So, do I die when I cast magic that requires more energy than what is available to me?" Stiles wanted to know.
"No," Mike replied. "Even worse." He swallowed. "The area from which you can siphon energy is defined by how wide you can cast your consciousness." Seeing Stiles' confused expression Mike elaborated further. "Imagine it like a circle you cast around yourself, an extension of your mind. Should the energy within this circle not be enough for your spell then your mind – desperately trying to keep itself alive –will widen itself more and more to fuel your magic and if you´re unlucky it breaks under the strain, shattering into thousand pieces."
"What happens to the person itself?" Stiles asked uneasily.
"Their mind has been shattered outside their body," Mike replied. "There is barely enough left of that person for the body to continue just breathing. They spend the rest of their lives – if you can call it that – as empty shells until their bodies finally give out. I´ve never seen it but I imagine it to be something akin to how the Dementor´s Kiss is described. An Un-life." Mike shuddered. "That´s why it is so important for mages to know their limits."
"How do I know if my strength is enough for a spell?" Stiles wondered.
"Experience," Mike answered. "I know, it´s a stupid answer and one you don't want to hear as teenager – I certainly didn't either – but it depends on so many different variables that you can´t give a serious estimation."
"How far can you expand your mind?" Stiles asked curiously.
"I´m a little bit of an anomaly," Mike replied. "I don't know if I have my eidetic memory because of how much energy I can process or the other way around, but I can cast my mind over the whole of Manhattan and the Southern Bronx." Stiles' eyes bulged nearly out of their sockets at that.
"Wow," he exclaimed. "That is much, isn't it?" He swallowed and scratched his neck. "Do you…do you know how wide my…my mother could cast her mind?"
"No," Mike answered. "And you should never ask another mage that question either. It´s considered very, very bad manners. Like asking a stranger about the length of his penis." Stiles could feel his cheeks heat up and Mike let out a laughter as he saw the discomfort on the teen's face. Then his expression turned serious again.
"Of course, there are ways to compensate a small Circle, but most of them belong firmly in the category of black magic," Mike explained.
"What?" Stiles asked, completely banned by what the other man was telling him.
"I´ve never seen it myself and neither have the people I know, but theoretically it´s possible to take all the energy a living being possesses for yourself. Instead of absorbing the excess energy, like a mage usually does, this hypothetical black magician directly taps into the energy reservoir of others and drains them dry," Mike told Stiles and the teen had to supress a shudder at hearing something so vile.
"Why would anyone do something like that?" he asked aghast.
"It´s faster," Mike answered. "And it gives you more energy. But you don't have to worry, there´s currently not a single black magician I know of. And believe me, such things would be noticed in a small community such as ours."
Mike said nothing after that, instead fidgeting with a daisy he had picked from the meadow while he had talked. Suddenly, petal after petal began to break away from the flower and started to slowly float into the air, performing a merry dance on their way upwards. More and more petals from the flowers around them began to join the others and soon there was a cloud of daisy petals flying above them.
At first there was no order to their chaos, but slowly Stiles recognised that some sort of patterns were formed right in front of him. Faster and faster the petals spun around them and then suddenly they coalesced into the form of a woman, standing right in front of them.
"Who´s that?" Stiles asked in awe.
"An old friend of mine," Mike smiled. "I called her. Her name is Aurai, a nymph of the breeze."
A new mage is introduced to the world´s currents? a voice intoned in Stile´s mind. It sounded old and wise, but also playful and carefree.
"That´s Stiles," Mike introduced him and Stiles gave the nymph an awkward wave with his hand, not really knowing what the etiquette for a first meeting with a disembodied spirit of the air was exactly. Aurai turned towards him, some of the petals of her form floating around Stiles' head, like some kind of halo.
He is free and wild, Aurai said, unbound. Under the patronage of Mother Air his powers will evolve.
"You can tell?" Mike asked.
I am a spirit of air and mind, Aurei spoke, turning back to Mike. There is naught that escapes my perception. Teach him well, Michael, for his potential is as vast as yours, especially once he joins with the earthbound one. And then her body dissolved, the petals falling to the ground.
Stiles stared at the space where the nymph had been just mere moments before with his mouth wide open.
"What the actual fuck did just happen?" he finally spluttered when he had regained his bearings. "What did she mean with 'patronage of Mother Air' and who the hell is 'the earthbound one'?"
"Aurai has always been one to talk in riddles," Mike answered. "Has been since the first time I´ve accidently summoned her when I was sixteen." A wistful smile formed on his face as if he was remembering said occurrence. "But she often offers useful insights, even if it sometimes takes some time for one to decipher them."
"As to what she meant? Usually, a mage has an element to which he feels a strong connection to, depending on your character. Air is usually for people that don´t really fit into social roles, wild, unbound, free, taking fancy to things fast, yet easily distracted, but not when it comes to things or people they deem important to them." Stiles didn't feel to point out that that description fit him down to a tee. "What she meant with 'earthbound one' I have no idea." He shrugged.
"What´s your element?" Stiles asked Mike instead. "And what does it mean exactly?"
"Only that magic involving your element is easier to evoke for you than other element´s," Mike answered. "As to my element? It´s fire." Stiles looked at Mike puzzled what lead to the other man continuing. "I´m a very emotional and passionate person. Once I invest myself into something I won´t let go and burn through every obstacle in my way. It has its advantages and disadvantages, like every other element does at well."
Mike looked at his watch and let out a curse that definitely sounded like 'Harvey'. "We need to wrap this up. This whole thing has taken longer than I expected."
"Wait!" Stiles exclaimed. "But we didn't do any magic at all!" He hated how whiny he sounded, but it had been the prospect of actually doing some magic that had made him come to Mike after all.
"You´ve just got dumped with so much information that allowing you to perform any magic would be gross negligence on my side," Mike replied and – oh God – Stiles remembered that he was a lawyer. "Go home, try to sort everything and when your mind isn't bursting from so much input like it is now, I´ll show you some real magic."
Stiles wanted to protest, but Mike was right as much as he hated to admit it. His mind was buzzing with the new information he had just received and Stiles just knew that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything at all. So he let out a theatrical sigh and let his shoulders slump in defeat.
"Alright," he conceded. "See you tomorrow." He nodded at Mike – who nodded back – and turned around.
Stiles had to admit that he could like Mike if there wasn't his disgust towards werewolves. And Stiles couldn't tolerate prejudice, no matter how well some persons could justify it. Because justifiable it never was, at least in Stiles' opinion. And that was the problem, wasn´t it? Mike was a nice and relatable guy, but whenever werewolves were mentioned his bias reared its ugly head and Stiles couldn't like – couldn't want to like – someone who held such believes.
He had to do something.
And then – walking down the path towards Beacon Hill – Stiles Stilinski broke out in a wide grin. He would just show Mike how wrong he was in his beliefs. After all, Stiles had made Derek smile a few times, so how difficult could it be to make Mike see that werewolves weren't so bad as he believed?