Lit #mfic Kilan gathered up her energy. Magic gnawed at her gut and twisted her stomach into a knot. It sickened her, as it has for the last forty years, but she kept her attention focused on puling it from her belly.
The flames burned her from the inside, flaring along aching joints and reddening her skin. It clawed down into her sore elbow and wrist.
She couldn't breathe.
She kept pushing.
When the flame of purest white burst out of her hand and lit the forge, it was a victory. She lived.
There are two types of magic in my world: talents and mages. A talent can do one thing, one magical trick.
A magic has raw power that can be shaped using mental constructs (e.g., spells).
In the story above, Kilan is actually a mage but doesn't know it. Instead, she knows only a single spell (poorly) and has been convinced she can never do anything else.
The difficulties in using the magic. Talents are typically effortless or natural, they don't fight against the mind or body.
