There's a common stereotype that a wand is an essential tool for magic. In reality, at least in this world, a small, narrow implement is no better a tool for precision than one's finger (and, ultimately, one's mind); indeed, having to conduct energy through a thing that is not part of you before releasing it could cause the energy to become unstable and poorly-directed (though this could be averted if the wand were in some way bound to the practitioner or made part of them), and a small tool might not withstand being a conduit for large amounts of energy for very long, unless made of a particularly resilient substance. It may, perhaps, serve as a psychological crutch if a person feels their own self too unreliable a tool, but in that case the mage's false assumptions about themselves will be a burden to their magic in any case.

There are, however, various implements that are used to aid in magic. While none are ever necessary, mages may frequently find them useful, albeit for different reasons than people might consider a wand to be useful.

One category of these is that of performance tools: items that are decorative and used to add a particular kinaesthetic aspect, visual appeal, or symbolic significance to a ritual, for the purposes of devotion and display to the energies or creatures involved (which also serves to get the mage into an appropriate mindset), enhancing the performance if that itself is the method of the magic, or pure artistic flair, as may be desired for performed displays of magic designed primarily to be pleasing to a crowd. In this sense, they largely serve as props rather than strict tools. The most common of these is a simple staff: a baton that adds weight to physical gestures and can be spun and swirled to create attractive patterns. Such a staff is usually not as long nor as heavy as the melee weapon of the same name, and as such is more easily wielded by even those with low physical strength. With most such tools, the entire force of the spell will not be channeled out through the implement; the spell will originate from the mage's body, as is normal, and the tool will become part of the body for the purposes of being charged with magic. This generally allows a small aura of light to gather around the tool, thus causing it, when moved, to draw patterns in the air.

Other things than staves are also used in this capacity, mostly for elaborate artistic displays rather than practical magic. A length of chain attached to either an oil-soaked bundle of ropes and cloth, set alight, or a crystal sphere charged with magical energy, is one such tool, allowing for even more elaborate trails of light and flame to be conjured than with a staff, given a suitably dexterous and gymnastic mage. While it may not seem like a traditional mage tool, similar setups have been created using nunchaku, with fire or crystal at either end. Also used are lightning nets, staffs with semicircular grids of metal netting at one end, charged with electrical energy and used in pairs: when brought close or banged together, impressive showers of sparks cascade between them. A mage may also employ ribbons or other conventional dance props as tools in such a performance.

Swords and other weapons are sometimes used, though more rarely: they serve the same purpose as a staff, but are more dangerous to handle and have martial connotations that many mages don't like to invoke when dealing with the metaphysical realm, a place where one's thoughts should be focused on transcendence and harmony. The raw adrenaline induced by having to handle these tools correctly can be a powerful ritual component, but often proves to be a distraction.


Another use for tools in magic is to extend a mage's abilities: not typically in precision but more often in capacity. One of the human body's weaknesses in magic is that large amounts of energy held within it for too long can damage it or become uncomfortable. A crystal sphere or other crystalline artifact, usually attached to a small hand-hold, can aid in magic by containing energy until a mage is ready to release it. While crystal can store more energy for much longer periods of time, weight for weight, than the human body, crystal tools are by necessity much smaller than a human and so limited in their effectiveness, but they are one good way to increase the amount of energy that can be added to a spell. They can also be encouraged to release their energy in a controlled way, often more difficult for a person who is struggling to contain the energy building up within them; if very small amounts of energy need to be released over a long period of time, a crystal charged with a spell and entrusted with the task of doing just that is a good choice. Crystals can have ideas impressed upon them, and their "memories" are incredibly long; while energy stored in them may fade over time, the concepts associated with that energy will not. As such, a crystal tool can be given a task and repeatedly "topped up" with fresh energy as that energy is used up in successive iterations of the task.


Of course, just about anything can be turned to the service of magic; there are many more kinds of magical tools than this article mentions here, but my discussions are limited to what I know. For the Harmonian mage, tools are mainly auxiliary: a mage's own body, mind and Runes are the only things one really needs to do magic, and all else is largely for the sake of personal tradition or ritual seeming.

An example of the kind of lecture I'd give to first-year magic students. Healing magic is generally among the first kinds of magic taught, though it's actually an ethically difficult subject to teach: what do you practice on? We can't encourage students to harm themselves or others in order to heal them, and those in genuine need of healing should be being treated by doctors, not being the experiments of students (though student healers at more advanced levels will treat patients). One solution is to get students to heal any minor, naturally occurring cuts or ailments that they may possess. Fallen leaves and flower petals that still possess some life can also be restored to lushness using magic.


Why does water heal? Magically speaking, most of us take it for granted that water is a healing element. But what, exactly, gives it that power?

There is much in the way of stereotype and imagery associated with the element's healing connection. Water, of course, makes up a good deal of the human body, and of the bodies of most organic creatures. It is necessary for life. It cleanses; we use it to clean our bodies and our clothes and to flush out disease from wounds. It is soothing, emotionally and physically, to be immersed in or to have flow over you, even when not magically charged. Visually, in terms of colours associated with it metaphysically and the patterns and rhythms of its flowing, it is relaxing to the mind. And many people think of it as the least destructive of the elements, even though a raging rapid or a rainstorm can do just as much damage as an inferno or an earthquake.

These are all valid connections. In the tapestry of existence, there are few, if any, relational coincidences; that water has these properties, and that we associate it with these images, are facts tied up with its healing nature as an element. But there is one key component of water's nature which is often ignored when trying to understand its connection with healing.

Water heals itself. Think about this for a moment: what happens if you thrust a sword into a river, then remove it? The water immediately rushes back in to seamlessly fill up the gap. It is completely unharmed by this action; it is not scarred or breached in any way. There is no hole in the water where your sword was. Indeed, to speak of a hole in water is senseless; even if, through extreme pressure of wind, a tunnel or chasm is created through a sheet of water, the water's integrity is not damaged or torn, but rather it is simply pushed aside and reforms into a new shape. Water cannot be injured, but only shifts its form-- into ice, into steam and vapour in the air, but never really destroyed, eternally reborn to fall again as rain from the clouds.

It is woven into the nature of water to be seamless, and that weave, that pattern, is applied to the magic it does. Water magic lends itself to making things seamless, and as such, it is particularly useful when one needs to heal a wound-- to restore torn and breached flesh to its original seamless state. (Of course, this property of water is a sympathetic one, existing on the idea level, and because flesh is not water, it only works as an analogy; water magic increases the potential of the body to reintegrate in accord with its own nature, which is not a truly seamless one. What water magic really does is aid in and add energy to the body's own tendency towards recovery. As such, healed wounds can still scar, albeit less extremely because less time is taken during the healing process. To eliminate scars, one has to use a shifting magic, altering the nature of the tissue there; water magic, however, can help in this process by "smoothing out" the changes.)

There is another element that has this property and is sufficiently placid in its default state: air. Air, like water, does not permit wounds in itself; air rejoins to itself seamlessly. Indeed, air is an even stronger binder to itself than water, being unlimited by gravity. As such, while water is the element most associated with healing, and the one tied to it in the most respects, air can still be involved, by the skilled student who makes this connection, in powerful healing magics.

Upon commencement of a spell, a faint tingling often begins in the veins, a sense of heat or coolness at the source of the power feeling as if it's spreading outwards through the nervous system, causing prickling along the arms or in the temples. Instinctively, muscles around the forehead or in the arms may contract or relax. As the energy builds and begins to store itself within the body, all the body's systems come alive with it: alertness floods the mind and senses, causing thoughts to race, colours to seem brighter, smells to sharpen, the taste of the air and the feel of its currents becoming plainly noticeable. Every sound seems to isolate itself from the background, and words heard while casting a spell seem to ring and resonate in the mind; if chanting, the mage's own voice may echo throughout their head for some time afterwards, dimly pervading the consciousness. The heart can be felt pounding, and often it's possible even to feel the rushing of one's blood in one's own veins, the subtle pressure against tiny conduits, the rhythmic rise and fall of every system in the body that, if focused on, can be deeply hypnotic; energy slides all through the body, and may be seen in the mind's eye as intense lines of light. This amplification of the senses is heightened by the Rune-glow that frequently surrounds a casting mage: through the light given off by magic, the world sees more intensely real, its truths revealed absolutely by that which is truth incarnate.

As magic builds further, it seems to fill a person from the inside, battering against the inside of their body like something alive trying to escape-- unsurprising, given that that's exactly what it is. Their movements may become more difficult to control, with involuntary jerks and shudders, the hands wanting to flow into abstract patterns and the voice wanting to cry out of its own accord. There may be a strong sense of anticipation, an almost uncontainable need to let the magic flow; the body tries to hold in its captive and tenses against it, spinning a fine line between imprisonment and release. As the body reaches its capacity to hold energy, the mind may approach near-meltdown, focusing on a singular thought or alternatively expanding endlessly out to encompass all things; it's vital that in the early stages the spell is well-formed, or that the mage has enough mental self-control to resolutely hold onto the image of what they intend, if magics that push the limit of the body's ability to hold it are used. More frequently, the mage will release a spell when at no more than (what feels like approximately) three-fourths of their capacity, at maximum. Smaller magics require less. Most people can't contain a full capacity of magical energy for more than a minute or so; it inevitably starts to spill over, manifesting as lightning or fire, frost or crystallisation, spreading over the mage's skin or an aura of rapidly swirling and shifting light dancing in the air around them. In order to cast larger or continuous spells, the mage releases energy in stages, releasing the first part of the spell and drawing the energy for the next part while they continue to release the energy from the first, never letting themselves entirely flood to capacity. Even so, being a human conduit like this for a long period of time is extremely draining; you're essentially a living circuit, and the physical human systems can only take having so much energy pushed through them. Aftereffects include a particular feeling of neuralgia, as if having run a marathon, that becomes easy to recognise with practice; the insides of the nerves feel literally frayed. Even a small spell can induce a feeling comparable to that of having lifted a heavy object or endured some other brief exertion; slight perspiration may break out on the skin, or the cheeks might be flushed and the pulse somewhat rapid.

Once magic is built up, releasing it comes with washes of relief and euphoria: simple adrenaline flooding the body in the wake of tension combines with the joyous feeling of releasing something both vibrantly alive and inextricably of yourself into the world, knowing its rapture at being conscious and free, serving the purpose it was created to serve. Magic by definition is created happy: its purpose in being is tied up with the fact that it exists. A fire spell exists to be fire; a healing spell exists to heal. In its having been created, in its existence, is its inherent reason to be. As it leaves the mage's body, its cries of exultation resonate within the mage's bones, a brief flush of happiness that goes straight to the person's core and washes out, at least momentarily, all negativity. The feeling of completion, of having achieved all that was promised in the anticipatory build-up, is profound; even if nothing is really "achieved" save a display of pretty energy, it is the sensation of having anticipated something and having its occurrence be the fulfilment of that anticipation, nonetheless.

Someone suffering from magical burnout needs rest, dark and quiet; they also frequently need damp (if not overly cold, as this can induce system shock) cloths or towels draped over them. In more severe cases, if they can avoid talking, it helps. Water at above-fridge temperature is good; feed them little and often. Magical healing is also a possibility, though be careful not to induce a chain reaction of burnt-out mages with nobody left to heal them. At its most severe, burnout should fully recover itself in two to three days, assuming adequate rest and nutrition.

A few miscellaneous thoughts and ramblings on Temple life; by no means exhaustive, and may well be expanded upon at a future date.


Those who live and work in the One Temple of Crystal Valley, home to Harmonia's spiritually-focused government, enter into a lifestyle that is a little different from that of most of the world outside. Though the Temple is not a monastic institution, and those who belong to it may travel freely and are not expected to isolate themselves from friends and family (and indeed, most do take regular leave to see their loved ones), it does maintain a commune-like atmosphere and encourage its members to forge strong bonds amongst each other, and many who work there, particularly those who lack family elsewhere, consider it their home and their primary community. Most things that one might feasibly need are provided within the Temple or available to buy within short distance of it, making it possible to live a comfortable life without travelling too far, though for particular specialised goods or for entertainment such as the theatre one must travel further into the centre of the city.

Those who wish to work within the Temple, with few exceptions, are generally expected to live there and become a part of the community. Harmonian society, and Temple society in particular, places a great deal of emphasis on mutual trust, a concept which to us requires a bond beyond a perfunctory business relationship; Harmonians generally frown upon those who wish to engage with them only in a businesslike manner and do not wish to establish any sort of rapport, or at least give the appearance of camaraderie. The Temple is seen as an environment where those who oversee the most vital aspects of the nation's running can come to know one another as more than colleagues, and thus mutual trust can be established.

There are a large number of potential positions within the Temple, even aside from the obvious political roles. It also serves as a place where spiritual and magical studies are pursued at the level of beginning student through to advanced researcher, and a repository of historically significant documents. The Temple is known for its extensive employment of intelligent messenger birds, and their care, and research into their development and needs, is also an important focus here. It maintains kitchens, laundries, extensive grounds, stables, and an infirmary, amongst other facilities; Runemasters, tailors, and caretakers of the physical and metaphysical surroundings are also employed. All who work here, from lay staff to bishops, are considered a part of the Temple community, eat and bathe communally, and are treated with respect.

Communal meals and bathing are seen as an important part of Temple life, particularly the latter, which is considered a vital way for those engaged in heated politics to reconnect to each other as friends outside of the ideological boxing ring. No one discusses work while bathing; instead the emphasis is on relaxation, social drinking (of tea and other hot beverages; consumption of alcohol is heavily frowned upon, as those with clouded minds from intoxication are desensitised to the weft and flow of magic, and their confused nature can become a disruption to the Temple's magical balance) and lighthearted conversational topics. Not everybody, in practice, eats communally, particularly those busy with work, who might ask for their meals to be brought to their rooms or studies instead, but it is considered a good thing to engage in at least semi-frequently. However, it is generally enough to be considered as part of the community if you appear to have an open nature and show willingness to interact with others as people, rather than merely business partners. The privacy of individuals is greatly valued, and shy natures are well understood; many in the Temple are quiet, studious types, and gregariousness is not mandatory. It is only if you seem reluctant to reveal anything of your nature or to exchange a friendly word that people will find you difficult to trust.

Promotions to the priesthood generally come from the ranks of those who come to the Temple to study magic and show a particular interest in listening to the Runes, caring for them and studying their greater mysteries. It is considered a sign of a good and sincere nature that one would be in the first place drawn to such a course, but it is also necessary to have good standing amongst the community and to be known by the others of the Temple; as a result, progression takes time. Not all who show a deep love of magic are considered suitable for priesthood; it is a dual calling, both a political and spiritual position, and those who wish to enter into it must also demonstrate evidence of previous study in the field of Harmonian politics or be willing to undertake such study. Between magical and political studies it may take around seven to ten years for the average individual to ascend to the rank of priest; given that formal magical studies generally begin at around the age of fourteen or fifteen at the earliest, it is unusual to see priests who are very much below twenty-five years old. Bishops are generally drawn from among those priests who have demonstrated a longstanding commitment to the community and have proven themselves exceptional in one or more key areas-- those who have shown political savvy, magical scholarship, or leadership skill and intelligence on the battlefield as Priest-Generals or lesser commanding officers, have historically been among those promoted, and all candidates have typically demonstrated high levels of awareness in at least the former two categories. The ranks of the bishops generally change slowly; most have left their positions only through retirement or death.

Overall, life in peacetime is relatively non-strenuous; outside of political duties and chores, most activities pursued by the people of the Temple, from magical exploration and spiritual discovery to research from, illumination of and preservation of books, are carried out at a relaxed pace. Entertainment is also typically laid-back; many occupy themselves by reading, writing, painting, strolling the gardens, chatting over tea or engaging in lightly energetic sports or, more frequently, mental games and puzzles. Those drawn to the Temple tend to be of quite a thoughtful and intelligent nature, and good-natured discussions of complex philosophical topic, literary analysis, and other typically "geeky" conversations littered with in-references will often keep friends awake long into the night. Teenage students of magic are the one slightly rowdy exception to the peace and quiet, but most are not permanent residents of the Temple, the exceptions being those who are children of existing Temple staff; the latter tend to learn gentle and amiable ways from their parents, though may go through periods of exuberant mischief as they come more into contact with students from outside the Temple. On the whole, though, it is an environment that seems to engender a fond respect amongst those who live and work here, and save for in times of political crisis, stresses generally seem to be few; those who live here are advocates of a balanced world and a balanced life lived in harmony with the forces of existence, and it tends to show through. This is not to say that we are not vigilant in our politics at all times, and do not take our more mundane duties seriously; it is rather to say that despite a life that might otherwise be stressful, there is something to the community that we have developed here that seems to relieve pressure and provide support particularly well, even in the face of such a task as running a nation and deciphering the will of the governing forces of our world, and we perceive that we live particularly fortunate and happy lives-- something we try to take into account when assessing the welfare of those who live in less privileged circumstances.

Each of the twenty-seven True Runes, over time, may have a number of successive bearers; individuals who will bond with the Runes and thus gain a direct connection to one of the fundamental forces of our world, gaining the ability to comprehend and manifest that force, as well as taking on the immortal nature of the Rune. In return, the Rune gains the perspective of the bearer, the ability to see things from the viewpoint of a human (or other similar sentient being), by default limited and "of-the-moment" in contrast to the Rune's timeless, "big-picture" viewpoint that finds it difficult to appreciate the great worth that individuals place on the smaller details and how important it is to their emotional lives to value them. In this way, each half of this symbiosis is, in the ideal circumstance, improved by the bond.

Many such unions, however, are for one reason or another not ideal. Some Runes are more cautious about who they share their power with, and prefer to take their time watching and waiting for the right bearer to come. Others are more impulsive, wishing to share their gifts immediately with the nearest suitable person, or else knowing that the flaws they possess impact the world negatively and so seeking a potential resolution to them as quickly as possible. Either way, oftentimes the bearer and the Rune are in some way incompatible, and will eventually part. However, all Runes will eventually achieve that ideal bond with a person who is meant wholly for them: the Rune's true bearer.

A true bearer has the ability, amongst other things, to initiate and maintain the Rune's "ideal phase". Some of the True Runes have historically been known by people as "cursed", because some aspect of their behaviour is proving unnecessarily harmful to the world around them, and often to their bearers. These are Runes which are unable to discriminate between actions which mortal sentients define as "good" or "bad". Their ultimate nature, their reason for being, and their true desire is to do good both by the standards of people and by the standards of the world, but they do not yet possess a detailed understanding of the standards by which people define goodness. Thus, they act erratically and often destructively, as forces of nature rather than caring gods. A Rune's true bearer is someone whose individual perspective on the world is ideally suited to helping that Rune achieve understanding of how to behave with regards to individual beings; they will be someone whose morality and personality help to guide the Rune to a state where it is aware of what most benefits existence on both a large and small scale, and act appropriately. When a Rune reaches that state, it is said to be in an ideal phase. For example, the hero whose experience with the Rune of Punishment began in the Island Nations around a hundred and eighty years ago, and is known variously by many names, was able through his nature and choices to help the Rune shift into its "forgiveness phase", encoding the notion of forgiveness into our world at a deep level. It is believed that the young McDohl of Gregminster, more recently, may eventually be able to enact a similar transformation with the Rune colloquially known as the "Soul Eater", more properly the Rune of Life and Death. Though Life and Death has been known historically as a Rune that consumed the lives of those close to the bearer, Lady Leknaat has spoken of her belief that its current bearer may be the one who allows it to move into its "life phase". The effects this will have on the world are as yet unknown, but as with the Rune of Forgiveness, they will certainly be beneficial. While not every True Rune has such dramatic and noticeable phases as these Runes, all Runes can be bettered, and turned from amoral forces of nature into understanding deities working in parallel with people, by their true bearers.

The true bearers of the Runes will be their final bearers. They are meant to stay with the Runes for eternity, for if they were ever to be permanently separated from the Runes, the latter would lose their ability to perceive the world through the bearers' eyes and would return to their less positive "phases". Since the security and future of our world depends on the Runes and true bearers being together, existence has implemented safeguards to keep the true bearers, once found, from ever being lost. As such, said bearers are truly immortal. Even if they are killed, they will retain the link to their Runes in death, and the Runes will eventually regather the strands of their souls and resurrect them. The true bearers are ideal for the Runes, and by definition will not corrupt or abuse their nature; such a union is not a chance acquisition of power by a random individual but a perfect match of a selected person with a force of existence, someone who was always intended to be united with it. That does not mean the true bearers are perfect people; only that they are, in the fundamental ways necessary, perfect for their Runes (though they will all possess, or will come to possess, a deep-down nature of fundamental goodness, compassion and intelligence, due to the fact that the Runes must learn about what people consider good through their eyes, and that a cruel or ignorant host would likely not suit the Rune's needs). They may make mistakes just as all other people do; but they will be the furthest possible people from those who would misuse or distort the powers of their Runes, and their bond with the Runes will undeniably be good, both for the Runes and themselves. It is through these twenty-seven eventual and necessary unions that our world itself will eventually enter into an "ideal phase", reflective of the benevolent desires of the universe.

Those who have only seen the pain and negativity that the Runes cause might consider this a sacrifice: twenty-seven people given over to eternal slavery so that the world might be fulfilled. This is as far from the truth as it is possible to get. The Runes, through cooperation with these people, will enter their most enlightened and kindly phases, and those who bear them will, as they gain the ability to comprehend the strange ways in which the Runes communicate, be uplifted beyond imagination by their ability to perceive their true nature and, through them, the true nature of existence. They will know the fundamental structure of things, and know that it is good and that it loves them. They will, as they grow and learn, find themselves directly connected to a vast source of knowledge, indeed intimately connected to and able to perceive, in time, the structure of all existence. There will be an infinite amount of things for them to learn and do in a world that they know is good and that they are helping to be as good as it wishes to be. They will not be limited, awkward people in fear of an incomprehensible power to which they are attached, but people whose natures are such that they will learn to flow seamlessly with the Runes. They will be at once people, with all the joys of personhood and individual free will, and Runes, with the vast knowledge and scope of the eternal.

Though it may seem a likely theory, and may even be true in some iterations of our world, I can tell you with certainty that this is not doctrine taught by the Harmonian government to justify a strategy of accumulating the Runes to gain power. This is a truth of our world, and something I know through first-hand experience. You may or may not trust me, but know at least that I tell this to you on no one's authority but my own.

A quote from safiiru that I asked permission to repost, because I think it does an extremely good job of laying out Harmonia's former perspective on war:

I'm kind of thinking of something along the lines of "we want peace, and if you want peace too then of course you'll want to work together with us, but if you're hostile to our goals of attaining peace then we're going to go to war someday, because clearly you won't be able to keep the peace in your own lands if you aren't peaceful enough to be our ally and let us do what we need to for the sake of peace". Said by people who really and earnestly believe this, of course, not as a veiled threat.

Naturally, this is only one side of things. There are valid reasons people were unwilling to ally with us. And none of this is a justification for going to war. It is, however, a description of Harmonia's attitudes from Harmonia's point of view. We did terrible things, but we were not monsters. We were just people, hoping, as most people do, to craft a better world. We were merely shortsighted and ignorant in our choice of methods, and our belief that the method did not matter nearly so much as the outcome.

In certain regards, many people of this world would find Harmonian culture oddly progressive, though we ourselves would not call it progression; we have had no foundation of intolerance in these regards to progress from. I do not wish to sound pompous and superior in saying this; I am merely stating the fact that our world, unlike this one, has, though still influenced by superstition even in the overt presence of magic, avoided the development of a belief system arbitrarily prejudiced against such things as homosexual behaviour, and as a result sees no reason to treat such things as taboo. It is no scandal, even within the deeply spiritual environment of the Temple-- perhaps especially there-- to admit such attraction, and those who do feel in such regard do not hide it, at least to the extent that personal relationships and inclinations towards such are openly discussed at all; Harmonia's culture is one that celebrates love, but also views it as a deeply private affair, and is reluctant to be open about details. If the sexual or romantic preference of another is not always widely known, it is only that it is rarely thought a matter for discussion, and more rarely still a facet of a person's personality by which they are labelled. For example, I myself am not shy about saying that I am capable of finding people of both genders attractive. However, I do not identify strongly as "bisexual", in part because my culture does not place great emphasis on these distinctions. It is not a term that I or anyone else feels they need define themselves by, or that others feel they need define people by.

That aside, though, I will not argue that my country is completely free of taboos. It is most certainly not; indeed Harmonian culture is carefully woven through with taboos of greater or lesser severity. Most of these, however, are more social faux pas than discriminations against one's inherent nature, taboos concerned with one's decorum and manners. Non-human sentients associate freely with humans in the city's markets and gathering-places (despite semi-popular rumour to the contrary), but the public touching of hands between people in public is heavily frowned upon; a child would happily be allowed to watch a play involving gay couples, but would be forbidden from seeing one involving improper use of the high speech, lest they mimic such behaviour. Overwhelmingly, Harmonia's cultural taboos are based on respect, and more specifically, the breaching thereof. The need for respect is heavily woven into our relations with one another and with the Runes. This underpinning of our society is one of the reasons that our one greatest taboo is so strongly held.

To outline what the taboo actually is involves some understanding of the nature of our world. Runes and humans are in a sense the two building blocks of our world; two perfectly fitting, complementary pieces. The bond between human and Rune is a unique one, unlike the bond between human and human or Rune and Rune, which strengthens our world and helps it to grow and flourish. It is a perfect completion, and for every human and Rune who bond lovingly in the way that was intended, our world is brought a little closer to its ultimate fulfilment.

To defy this natural bond and relate to a Rune as one would relate to a human is, then, the ultimate Harmonian taboo. (This statement does perhaps not make much sense to those who do not fully understand the difference between how one relates to a Rune and how one relates to a human; this is not something I can easily explain without one's having had experience of the Runes.)

Unlike many taboos, it has a clear basis in fact. While prejudices against certain sexualities or races are typically based on arbitrary distaste for that which is "other" and unfamiliar, the practice of this taboo has been observed to cause damage to the fabric of our existence. We are a culture of mages, capable of observing the weft and flow of the tapestry of threads, the constant interplay of connections, that make up all that is. While some religions are fond of stating that certain sexualities "subvert the natural order of things", when one practices this taboo it is observably and subjectively a subversion of that order; it is in a sense a blow struck for chaos, which we who work with Runes and observe the great need for order in existence, and the damage done by too much rampant chaos, find unacceptable.

The price for practicing, or wishing to practice, if one is found out, this taboo is high; so high that to do so is almost unheard of. To actually attempt to initiate such a connection causes damage to the tapestry that frequently backfires on the human, with temporary or permanent effects. This, however, is perhaps a minor inconvenience in comparison to how such a practice affects one's place in society. One is permanently branded by the language, in the way that cultures will brand one as a specific "kind of person"-- rapist, murderer-- and define their existence and character by that brand. One no longer is primarily "a person", but this other, lesser class of being first and foremost. To falsely accuse another of being this-- for it is considered a being more than a doing-- is itself a strong taboo, and grounds on which one can be tried for slander (or, in the case of members of the government, treason and attempts to subvert the political system, for a damaged reputation in the government would be a severe shock to the tightly-knit network of trust and respect upon which Harmonian government operates). The punishment for such is typically compensation to the person so slandered, in the form of money or labour, but the aspect of the punishment considered harshest is the shame of being tried for the crime-- which is still a far lesser burden than being known as one who has breached the initial taboo. In the latter case, society will shun you; keeping your job, unless it is a humble one, will be difficult. In many respects, though the shame placed upon you by society is not as severe as that faced by the lowest members of the South Asian caste system, you become an untouchable, a pariah. For most people, voluntarily exiling oneself is less painful than remaining.

You will notice that throughout this essay I do not name this taboo outright, though obviously it has a name. To speak the word alone is offensive. The fact that I myself find it difficult to talk about, even given that, unlike most of my peers, I have sufficient experience of other cultures to stand outside my own and analyse our biases critically, is perhaps testimony to how deeply ingrained of a taboo it is.

Magic is a force-- no, less a force; more a skill, of interaction with a force-- that is inherently lifeful. To practice magic one interacts with and directly guides the forces of existence, and being that the ultimate progenitor of the forces of existence, the One Force behind them all, is that which can variously be thought of as Goodness, Love, and Life, magic is drawing from an inherently good emanation. There are no "dark forces", no evil deities. Even if magic is put to a cruel end, the wellspring from which it bubbles forth is one of goodness.

The forces of existence do not give cruel gifts. One may conjure flame, or rocks, and use them to do harm; one may turn and change a person's emotions; one may bind and encapsulate. These things can all be used cruelly, but there is no inherent cruelty in making a rock, in summoning electric force, in drawing up flame, in inspiring emotion. Fiction, in fact, is specifically designed to do that latter. It is only when the rocks are used to crush, the electricity and fire to burn the living, the influence to instil anger and fear in those who do not wish it, that the use of magic becomes wrongful; but it is its use, and not its being, which is so.

And while the gift of magic can be put to harmful ends, the forces behind it safeguard the fundamentals of existence's structure carefully. The power to unmake existence is not put in human hands. We cannot transform the fabric of time and matter beyond its intended pattern; we cannot cleave the ground upon which we live into two parts floating in space. There are those who, long ago, were so thoroughly known, their motives so well understood, by the forces of this world that they made contracts with the people to bestow upon them great powers, as gifts to show their trust; now, in this age, those powers, their secrets laid bare, have been misused by some, and our world has been more vulnerable to severe harm. Yet it was not harmed even when it was threatened, for the powers of existence yet have ways to ensure their safety, even having given over these crucial powers to humans. There was fear and weakness, but there was not, ultimately, destruction. Existence finds a way.

I note these things because in these times, it seems people like to paint magic as a shadowy art; something left of centre, hidden and obscure for good reasons, dark and disturbing-- the stuff of tales told late in the evening to terrify children. It is said that those who revere magic worship darkness. But there is no darkness in magic; magic is light itself, and this power, a gift given to us by existence, not wrenched from it, not misappropriated-- for who could steal from existence what it does not wish taken?-- is a beauty, a positive. We are named "practitioners of the Dark Arts", men and women of sinister paths. But the art which we practice has never had darkness in it. It is not shadows and snaggle-toothed individuals in ragged black cloaks; it is not secret societies and cults and curses. There are no curses, no more than the Runes are cursed; a "curse" is a handy name for a force that terrifies because one does not understand it. The bonding of inexperienced individuals with the Runes has no doubt caused much upheaval in their lives; thus from a mundane perspective one could say they had been "cursed" with misfortune. Yet the Runes meant no harm by it, and those who have been of the demeanor and have taken the care to explore this unique bond to its fullest have found far more gratification and wonder than hardship, far more beauty than fear, far more wonder than pain. The art in which we are skilled is no less than the art of weaving with pure metaphysical light.

Of those who wield magic themselves and call it dark, I can only say that they have horribly misunderstood, and that they possess the magic they do only by the good grace of the Runes, not for any inherent skill or awareness on their part. Magic is a loving relationship between the mage, Runes, and the tapestry of existence, and like any loving relationship requires compassion, delicacy and sincerity, as well as dedication. Treating magic as a tool will not allow you to know the full extent of magic. Treating magic as a force with sinister, horrid origins will not allow you to know the full extent of magic. Seeking magic for power, for superficial glamour, as a quick means to a formidable reputation, will not allow you to know the full extent of magic. Only love for magic and an honest heart's desire to understand magic will allow you to know the full extent of magic.

Magic is light. That can be seen in its very physical manifestation, the twisting, swirling, swarming threads of light that form the physical body of magic, that surround the caster in a hazy glow woven through with the unique signature of their soul. Even those cultures that have never seen magic manifested, only know it in the flickerings of its threads through the tapestry of their subconscious, know it for what it is, and record it as such in their writings and art. You cannot paint magic without showing light. If magic is truly darkness, then you would think it would manifest as an absence of light, as shadows, as an entity that absorbs and negates light in the area where it exists. But it does not manifest as such, and people do not depict it as such.

The truth of magic is simply this: existence is a tapestry of light and life, and magic is the communion between individual sentient beings and the greater fabric of existence that allows these threads of light to be woven directly by humans, in places. It is not the province of any unique clique or cult; while as with any talent only some possess the natural ability to wield it well, what it taps into surrounds us and belongs to us universally. We in the Temple have gathered and made ourselves a government in support of and furtherment of magic's benevolent use and understanding, for the good of existence, magic and people; not to establish ourselves as an exclusive society. Magic is not abnormal or supernatural; it is normal and natural. Indeed, drawn as it is from the fabric of existence of which we are all a part, without which we could not be, it is the most normal and natural thing there is.


(Written simultaneously in both English and Harmonian. After having it read over by my advisors I intend to ask whether something similar to this would be a useful educational essay for distribution in association with our attempts to reach out and inform people as to Harmonia's ideals and goals; hence the "politics" tag.)

When I was a child, I used to frequently explore the caves near where I live. The mountainous region within which the city of Crystal Valley is situated is riddled with cave networks, from down near the valley itself where the caves are lined, true to the name of the place, with crystal formations that spill out onto the open ground and cause a magnificent spectacle when struck by sunset light-- to the extent that for an army to attack from the east, between the high, treacherous cliffs and the blinding reflection from the crystals, would be suicide-- to what were once the Safir clan lands in the west, where lives were lived within intricate honeycombs of hazards and hollowed-out dwellings which only the familiar could navigate.

To say, in fact, that I "frequently" explored them is perhaps something of a misnomer. Once I was allowed to venture beyond the immediate boundaries of the Temple-- though it was not known at first, specifically, that I was entering into what adults would have seen as a dangerous activity-- I spent as much time within the local cave networks as studies, observation and need for food would allow. At times I attempted to encourage my friends to accompany me, but they would always become scared the darker and deeper it got, and would quickly flee for the surface. I alone would continue.

Those who have never travelled deep enough into cave systems may be unfamiliar with just how alien is this twilit world, in comparison to the world above ground. Amongst the profound experiences to be found here is that of silence: while noises within do cause echoes (though not all caves, depending on their structure, reflect sound, and indeed some absorb it), the noises of the outside world are entirely muted. If one halts one's footsteps-- few other things in a cave will make sound, and then only intermittently-- one is immersed in a blanketing silence that gives new meaning to the concept of silence as deafening: one literally does feel as if one has lost the capacity to hear. The silence becomes almost tangible to the mind, as if the air around were thickened by great degree; as if one were wrapped in a numbing, comforting embrace of nature. Scent also hangs longer on the static air with no breeze to carry it, and most of the animals in caves are scent-sensitive as well as vibration-sensitive; there is frequently little you can do to avoid scattering most creatures immediately at your approach, though walking with bare feet and bathing beforehand, as well as not carring any pungent foods or items, do help somewhat.

Sometimes I would find a corner or nook wherein I could be surrounded on as many sides as possible, curl up there, and sleep for a time, my skin against the skin of the earth. I found this, no doubt due to my unusual origins, akin to-- perhaps even more powerful than-- a human mother's embrace. It is a common misconception that caves are cold; they maintain a more or less constant temperature relatively unaffected by the outside air, which may be colder or warmer than the outside depending on the siting of the cave, and the season. In the colder months, a cave often traps warmth, and is typically a lot cosier than the world outside. Stone is quickly warmed, and being surrounded by stone that gradually turns the temperature of one's own flesh is rather a cosy experience.

The species that dwell within caves are often of a unique kind, specialised for a life without the sun. In our local caves there are congregations of salamanders; not the newts named for the same but lizards who, for protection from predators, surround their bodies in a magical fire. The fire does not ordinarily burn, but instead reacts to the creatures' emotions; when a threat is present, the fire will become corporeal and burn anyone touching it, though the salamander itself does not suffer from the burns (for reasons I know not; either due to the nature of the magic or possibly some substance that covers its body). They are skittish little creatures; I have yet to get one to treat me as harmless enough to let down its flames so I might touch it, though they did eventually become used to my presence. Normally, they will not even use their fire as defence, but simply flee into the labyrinths of lizard-sized tunnels that riddle the caves; likely not carved by them, as they have no means to dig, but some other burrowing animal.

Even deep caves are not always devoid of light; between the salamanders and the phosphorescent mosses that line the walls, an eerie, coloured light, dim but seeable in once one's eyes have adjusted, rebounds around many of the chambers, casting odd, elongated shadows. When this light hits the underground lakes that often collect in caves, it can produce quite a striking, surreal effect. One really does believe one has entered into another physical world, where the life around one, the quality of the sound, and even the very air one breathes are all of a different quality.

The Harmonian language has a two-tiered system of formality; there are two slightly different ways of speaking, and transcribing, any given word, which is achieved by, in speech, varying the vowel pronounciation (and also sometimes altering consonants), and in writing by the use of altered letter forms. A lot of emphasis, in mage culture, is placed on accurate use of these forms; leeway is given to foreigners who do not understand the distinction and young people who haven't learnt them, but to deliberately use them wrongly is considered gravely disrespectful. Since they are based on a standardised system of varying pronunciations, they are not especially difficult to learn, but it is somewhat difficult to explain the circumstances in which these distinctions are made, as they are closely tied into our cultural view of existence. Outside the Temple and mage culture, the formal variant is somewhat less used, though it still appears in literature, theatre, devotional songs, personal reverence, and when laypeople speak to those of the Temple. It is also sometimes used as a kindness towards children (the reverse of many other cultures, which assign diminuitives or less honoured titles to children; in Harmonia, the formal is used as an appreciation of the potential of the child and something of a blessing, a hope that the child will grow to be a good and noble person), and is almost always used liberally when speaking to or of loved ones, no matter the social standing of the people involved.

The use of formal speech, which could more accurately be translated as "high" speech, is less based on the status of speaker and recipient and more on the Harmonian understanding that all things are a part of an interconnected existence, a tapestry of reality and truth, and thus all things are inherently valuable and worthy of respect. One can address the simplest and most mundane object-- a cup, a tablecloth-- in the high speech; however, in order not to appear mocking of the speech, which is a huge taboo, context must be apparent. One would only address such an object in the high speech if it was clear that the person was demonstrating an understanding and appreciation of its value, of the fact that, as a part of all existence, it deserved not to be treated casually; where this is generally considered appropriate is something only learnt with some exposure to Harmonian culture, though if one can demonstrate sincerity that is usually enough. One frequently uses the high speech when speaking of making use of an object, for example, or in context of an object's use as a tool or convenience to people, to balance out the perceived disrespect done to it by treating it as a tool. One will also use it when speaking, even in the third person, of asking a person for a favour or to perform an action. In short, it is a way of giving constant thanks to existence for the things we ought to value, through the language. Using high speech ironically or mockingly is the Harmonian form of cursing; one does not typically curse by using specific forbidden words, but by referring to the thing one wants to curse in high speech while evidently being disdainful of it. This is considered an extremely taboo form of speech, much less socially acceptable than most of the "taboo" words in modern English, and a member of the clergy who was heard to speak thus would almost certainly be officially reprimanded. Children are taught early in their lives not to use the high speech when they are upset, angry or joking, and a child speaking in this manner is considered to be extremely poorly brought up. Conversely, few other insults exist (comparing people to something considered unpleasant is not generally heard of in Harmonian, since, as the joke goes but as Harmonians take seriously, it is insulting to the thing being compared to), and intensifiers and exclamations that are not intended to be directly insulting (the equivalent of English expressions such as "for God's sake" or "my God!") do not make use of questionable concepts and are not considered taboo.

High speech is not used of the self; this is not a devaluation of the self, but an encouragement not to value the self above all else, to embrace arrogance and superiority. One does not place formal emphasis on the words "I", "me" or "my", nor on one's own name. If giving one's name, one will say it in the common pronunciation; others will then refer to you either in the common or in the formal based on your relationship with them. With the exception of clear superior-to-inferior relationships, in which case the person of lower status will usually use high speech, the more closely you know someone, the more you tend to use high speech to refer to them, in the reverse of many other cultures; it is actually considered impolite to address a stranger of equal or lower standing in high speech outside of circumstances such as asking them a favour (in which case it exists as a placeholder for the concept of "I would like you to do this for me, but I am not using you; I respect your worth"), as it can be perceived as intrusively overaffectionate or as implying that you know a person closely enough to truly appreciate them. The switch to using high speech to refer to a person over the course of a relationship is thought of similarly to the switch in Japanese culture to using first names; it denotes a crossing of a certain threshold of mutual closeness and ease with another. In essence, in any situation where you would feel it appropriate to say to someone, "I am thankful for and appreciate your existence and your self", it is appropriate to use high speech to refer to them.

There are some entities that are always referred to in the high speech. These are all Runes (and usually True Rune bearers, though Runebearers will still not refer to themselves in high speech), magical creatures, dragons, and existence itself. (In Harmonia, dragons are considered a separate category from "magical creatures"; they are different in nature, and the Runes govern each separately. Magical creatures include, for example, unicorns, werewolves and vampires.)

Somewhat related to the concept of high speech is the use of the deific pronoun, which is used to refer to entities that cannot accurately be classed as either "singular" or "plural"; chiefly, the True Runes, the forces they govern, the world, and existence in general. Most Harmonian pronouns, again similarly to Japanese, do not reflect gender (there are words equivalent to "kare" and "kanojo", meaning "that man" and "that woman", but they are not frequently used unless someone explicitly needs to point out another person's gender); instead they distinguish between singular, plural, and deific, an entity that is considered to be both a singular whole and a number of things.