August 3rd

Dear Diary,

Today I was approached by the strangest individual. He approached me at the end of my lecture at Brighton Academy claiming to be an admirer of my work on cognitive purpose in machine work. I will admit, he seemed almost fanatic about the advancements of my work even going so far as to cite my experimental practices on the fusing of organic and machine elements together.

However, as weird as it was, something about his demeanor sparked my interest. He held himself purposefully high, even with such a short stature. He barely came up above my bust. However he never broke my gaze, never once taking in my looks that had long held my career back. He treated me as if we were merely equals, speaking as partners in life and work. It was a refreshing change.

When he asked if I would perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner back at where he was staying, I felt compelled to reject his offer. After all, a woman such as myself, returning to the home of a man that not only had I just met, but one who must have been my younger by nearly a decade, could not be seen in such a predicament. He was more than kind enough to acknowledge my discomfort and merely pointed out that he was staying in a room he had rented above a local tavern. He was only in town for the evening and would very much prefer it if I had the chance to look over his work.

After a series of very convincing exchanges, I agreed to his terms.

Upon arriving, I was surprised to find that not only was he not lying about the tavern, but he did in fact rent out the entire place so that we might speak in private. To amass the wealth to cost a tavern business for a full night, who was the man I was dealing with.

To my surprise, the meal was exceptional. Far above what was capable at a run down tavern tucked between two buildings. To my surprise, the drinks he offered were perhaps from the finest bottles of wine that I had ever had. While not wealthy, I considered myself fairly well versed. That was until tonight.

After dinner he led me across the room to a table strewn with books and scrolls. On them were all sorts of languages, some I was familiar with, others seemed to be pure fantasy. But there in the middle, amidst it all was a diagram, a plan for some sort of machine that could harness the energy of magical forces unseen to the human eye.

I turned to him and laughed, speaking plainly that one could not believe in magic and science. There were fundamental truths of the universe that could not be debated. Magic and the work of fantasy was meant to distract from the truth.

He was polite and merely offered a single suggestion. Take the blueprints, they were a copy after all. The originals were mounted in his castle in Oberrin. Yes a castle in another country. He also offered me a tome. Suggested the perhaps, while my lecture tour continued for the next month, I study it. And then perhaps if I had no plans, we might speak further about it at his castle.

I looked at him puzzled. Why someone who clearly thought so much about magic and fantasy could ever wish to wonder what I, an intellectual grounded in the truths of mathematics and physics, could ever seek out in magic confused me to no end. I politely asked him what to do should I not wish to arrive at his estate. How should I return the materials.

He seemed confident that I would come see him by the turn of fall, even going so far to offer that if I did come, he would show me all of his work, his masterpiece as he called it. With that he seemed content to escort me to the door leaving me to find my way home as the sun began to set.

I must say diary, I am confused by his offer. I have studied his diagrams and his understanding is impressive. There were some calculations that seemed off, but most of it seemed strikingly similar to the belief that he could graft mechanical elements into the earth as if it were a living being and then use that energy to graft them further onto individuals. Almost a means of transforming an organic element into an inorganic mechanical part. In theory it would provide a functioning limb where one had failed. It would revolutionize medicine and science for decades!

But the complexity of magic seemed so foreign. Long have I suspected that there are powers beyond our comprehension in the universe, but now confronted with the fact that it might be true, I am at a loss.

Tomorrow I board a train to my next destination. I suspect I will not sleep tonight, instead plagued by the possibility of the young Tarn Sistro’s proposals. Perhaps there may yet be more to this world than I know.

Forever Yours,

Eleanor Ducal

August 10th

Dear Diary,

I have become plagued by thoughts of magic. They fill my waking moments and in dreams taunt me with their confounded mysteries. They speak in a language I do not understand and yet, it is perfectly clear to me that much like math or science, they are a language unto themselves. I see runic shapes, gestures, figures, and designs but do not understand how they function. Yet.

I have completed two more lectures, each as dull as the last. The students, they stare at me with gaping mouths and empty eyes. They hear the words I say but do not comprehend the logic. Perhaps I am as blind as they are in my own way.

Never before has my life felt so empty. I feel as if I am simply following the motions of my life, treading water as I stare out at a vast sea of information that threatens to drown me should I step in too deep. And yet, the call beckons me further. Even as professors and scholars seek out my wisdom and knowledge, taking me out to fancy dinners, offering me all sorts of worldly pleasures that I politely decline, I find nothing would ever satisfy me as much as understanding a single rune could.

I have poured over the tome, each word, carving and gesture. I have read that translations front to back in triplicate and still, they mean little to me. To think that this could be the work of a novice and yet I am a toddler unable to comprehend it scares me. But deeper down, I can not resist.

I fall asleep with the book in my lap. Eyes still scanning over pages that have been carved into my brain. I awake with a bit more knowledge than the night prior. And then I must set it all aside for the monotony of which I live in.

But this afternoon, while in my cabin on the train, as I lay in my bed, my eyes reading over the page, the words, they began to move. Strange scribbles suddenly clear to me. Some still remain a mystery to me, but even so, I could begin to read them. How I must wonder, have they suddenly decided to become clear. Was it my own comprehensive understanding, or perhaps some mystical power choosing to reveal itself.

I follow the words, trace the patterns and am rewarded with the simplest of things. Small sparks of energy dance across my fingers. Light Franklin with a kite, I conjure electricity from the air around me. It dances in small arcs over my fingers, tickling them. I watch the arcs bounce back and forth before fleeting.

I begin my study and dive deeper. As the train moves along through the night, I do not sleep as all the others do. Instead I learn. I do not create electricity, I merely draw the charges that exist in the air to me. I shape them and control them. As my understanding grows, so does my ability. Now not only does it dance but it bends, it changes shape, it becomes harnessable as both a tool and a weapon.

When I awoke this morning, my body weak and feeble, energy drained from me did I comprehend the toll the magic took on me. Not only was I drawing external energy, it was drawing from internal sources as well. My body and mind must be sharper and prepared should my learning continue.

Indeed I have much to learn.

Forever Yours,

Eleanor Ducal

August 15th

Dear Diary,

Time passes both too fast and too slow at the same degree. When I study the means of magic, time flies too fast leaving me in the dust, passed over, discarded. Yet when I am not engrossed in my studies, I find the world seems to crawl by. My body feels trapped between two breaths, held in a moment that I cannot escape from. My life has become an endless cycle of torture and release.

I must wonder, do others find themselves caught in life like this or is it instead merely something I have found. Could the magic be having this effect on me or is it simply I had been bored for far too long.

I remember back in my early days at the university, spending my late nights in the library surrounded by dozens of books, each one cross referencing to the others to further grasp how the machines worked. If one simple value was wrong, would things continue to function or seemingly collapse into useless parts. They way the numbers and calculations mixed together, it was art in its purest sense. The way the world intended it to be built, on fundamental flaws and values that could not be beat.

And yet now, amidst the magic and mystical I find that those rules that made the world work are not so stringently adhered to. They can be bent and shaped, twisted around and exchanged for a simple result. It can not be possible and yet, as I understand more, two things have become truly apparent to me as a fundamental core of the function of magic.

The first, Control. This word appears in various forms from manipulation to creation. It seems to act as a purpose of harnessing the effects of magic to bend and shape the rules of the world to one’s own will. And yet, it is only one half of the equation. The other is Perception. Without the ability to perceive the end result of the use of control, the wielder is merely expending energy for the sake of toying. As I have come to further understand these principles, I have found that my body can withstand more use and expenditure of magic. The sharper my vision and goals are, the more power I can draw and expend.

I have begun to play with mechanical components in my experiments with magic. Thus far, the combination of the two seems to elude me. I find as if the two are not two sides of a coin but instead two enemies trapped in an endless struggle. My mind can see the way they blend together and yet, the practical application of my thoughts eludes me. 

I have read the entire book and yet, I can not find any shred of knowledge to help further my goal. I believe perhaps it is some failing of myself to be unable to discern my own failings. The thought has haunted my nightmares. That perhaps I am not to be a master of my own destiny. That indeed it is my own humanity that fails me. 

It is why I have found myself drawn to Tarn Sistro’s machine. The potential of such an invention, it could lead me to overcoming my own weaknesses. Even now as I push forty, I wonder, will I ever be able to discover the truth of these mysteries before both my mind and body fail me.

I have committed myself to this tour and yet, every day that passes I find myself wishing that I could travel to his castle sooner. The mysteries and knowledge that he must possess. With that much knowledge under my control I could perceive everything. I could discern the mysteries of the universe. I could bury myself inside of there for years and emerge an entirely new person. I could emerge the savior to the world that I always saw myself as. I could transcend my own limitations. I could become more.

Forever Yours,

Eleanor Ducal