After a while, I wasn't able to see the sun's rays past the doorway anymore. I didn't even know when the sky cast a bright orange in its dimming horizon… and when I even noticed it was happening in the first place.
All I knew was this room, all I could see were these walls, and every sound I would hear came from me and me alone. Every weary gasp for air, ever crackle and pop of my joints as I shifted about… and every hiss, every hoarse growl through gritted teeth - I'd hear that more than any other.
Magic was like a muscle, they said. The more you use it, the more you refine it, the stronger it becomes.
It's a process of cultivation that takes years of dedication, months even… and in cases few, an entire lifetime. Trying to speed it up, any attempts made to fast-forward the process through cheeky shortcuts, like what I was doing… well, maybe you're just better of not trying.