For in an inappropriately long amount of time, he truly believed that Magic was, in essence, primarily the merger, joining, and collision of two factors: Word, and Name. (Predictive models matter; you can believe, if you want, that the true Thaumaturgical source in the Universe; but you’d best be prepared to die in a sea of treacle.
It was not forgivable—not in the eyes that mattered, his own—that he’d viewed things so naively. When someone relies on some depth of knowledge, and you have not dug deeply enough, then you end up with a lot of dirt, a hole that’s too small, and a lack, not simply of rubies and precious metals, but even with a coherent idea of what the hole was actually supposed to contain in the conveyance of this concept; let’s just bury the whole thing and start over, okay?
Wishful thinking is, in the long run, fatal, and while fatality is common to most sentience, wishful thinking is particularly likely to shorten lifespan in ways which is pleasant only to other sentients who are watching from a safe and considerable distance, and primarily for amusement purposes. Improper use of Magic is the kiss—not of death, since “death” is oftentimes quite forgiving, relatively speaking.. It’s more like the kiss of a leprechaun: spritely, warm, summoned by merry thoughts, and guaranteeing that your almost-cold corpse will be robbed by nightfall.
And for what he’d consider an inappropriate amount of time, he’d even believed all of that.
Oh, it wasn’t wrong. Just thinking too small.
Magic is the intersection—no, the merger or joining or collision—of Word and Name. It was not forgivable, in the eyes that mattered (his own) that let his own ideas become so limited simply because they worked. He couldn’t recognize folly, any more than Faeries recognize the magnetic pull of the Moon; but he knew Wishful Thinking when he saw it. When it comes to Magic, that’s the kiss—not of death, since death is often (sometimes!) forgiving of such things….but at least the smooch of a succubus on a one-night stand: spritely, warm, sweet, and guaranteeing that your almost-cold corpse will be robbed by daybreak.