Magic

This writing just didn't make any sense. Not when it came out of my mouth anyway. I could read it fine; it was speaking it that I was struggling with. It was as if the words morphed into a whole nother lanugauge as I spoke, making the incantation useless. In fact, at that point it wasn't even an incantation anymore. This feather wasn't going to burst into flame any time soon. I grabbed my book and threw it to the ground.
"Kitara!" my mentor called out to me. "Pick that book up. It's not the books fault you are making all the wrong intonations."
I huffed. He never tried to understand me at all. It was so annoying, and the more he did it, the more frustrated I would get.
"I'm trying, Master."
"Well, try harder. It's obviously not enough."
"I don't know what to change though! I need your help. Couldn't you just say it for me one more time so I could-"
"No," he firmly stated. And that was all as he turned away from me.
My blood boiled beneath my skin. This was worthless. My mentor was worthless. They had always told me since I was a child that I had magic in my blood, that I would be a great mage one day. But I still couldn't even cast the smallest of spells! My anger finally got the better of me then, and something in me snapped.
"Ist ukara mith soule idiom!" I cried.
The feather began to float into the air and quickly disapperated into a flame. I felt the flow of something brilliant run through me and I never wanted to lose the feeling of it. But as soon as the ashes were in a pile my work table, the feeling left with it.
I didn't hear his footsteps behind me.
"That is the feeling of magic. That is what is required of you."