Every story is a universe in itself. When a writer embarks on creating a story, they are creating a universe, and every universe (that is recognisable to the human mind) is made of three specific ingredients:

1. Space
2. Time
3. Magic

The first two are self-evident – even our universe would not exist without those two basic building blocks. But the third is arguable, and yet, magic in all its unknowable forms and nomenclature (probability, dark energy, a writer’s guiding hand) exists in all universes; even when a writer sets out to create a distinctly non-fantasy story (I won’t name names).

But fantasy as a genre is unapologetic and embraces this third element, rejoicing in its unknowability, even altering time and space in myriad ways and, on occasion, providing access to certain chosen individuals, often called The Chosen One.

In Power Rangers, the magic (or magic system – more on that later) is called the Morphin Grid. It’s an infinite pool of energy that rangers can tap into using their morphers. Within this grid is energy which boosts their own physical strength, connects them to the memory of all fights held by older rangers, enabling them to be great fighters, and also stores their suits and zords. (If you’re interested in learning more about Power Ranger lore, have a look at this excellent video.)

The Flash and all the speedsters in the DC Universe tap into the speed force, a vortex of energy, almost sentient, that provides the Flashes their speed and other abilities.

The Force from Star Wars is an energy field that binds the entire universe together and can be tapped into by individuals with a high Midi-chlorian count. Their actions and choices decide which side of the Force they walk on, but both require extensive training and an understanding of their self and emotions to be able to utilise and tap into this power.

In these examples, you’ll find that magic is a fundamental part of the universe and some individuals, through a variety of means or talent, tap into it.

But how? How do these select individuals or an entire population of fictional characters tap into these supernatural powers? Are there rules? Is there a mechanism? Specific words? Training?

[Magic system definition: The mechanics by which magic is understood and accessed.

Author note: for the sake of this essay, I’m going to avoid using hard magic systems and soft magic systems. While this categorisation is useful, it plays little role in magic power activation. The word mechanics in the above definition will turn off many readers and feel like a nod to hard magic systems, but such is not the case. These activation models can be utilised by any type of magic system and act more as a guideline to prod your thinking. It is up to the writer to decide how much or how little their magic can be understood by the population within their story and by their reader.]

While developing magical worlds and characters, I’ve found that building a magic system that closely aligns itself with the theme of the story, and with the type of character you’re creating, making it feel like an extension of that character, works far more effectively. It makes the story feel cohesive.

Below I have listed 5 different ways in which characters can access magical powers.

Cookbook

Cooking is, essentially, following a set of instructions and using a set list of ingredients to achieve predetermined results. I’d argue that most magic that is studied and presented in textbooks (think wizarding schools) follows this style of magic. In this case, a magic wielder must go through the rigorous process of memorising words, spells, incantations and various other arcane means to create a predictable result.

While this seems like a system that is limited, it actually sets great guardrails around your magic system. Following these ‘recipes’ allows for predictable outcomes but also empowers ‘chefs’ to create new ways to interpret these guardrails. These are not rules but guidelines.

As with all things being studied, this gives rise to the possibility of a branch of magic that is not studied extensively, or is taboo. Ensuring that this branch of the system remains mysterious adds that edge of what magic really feels like while giving you and your characters enough magical tools to get things done.

In Fullmetal Alchemist, Ed and Al are alchemists who study the art and are able to use alchemy to solve various problems they encounter. The magic system within alchemy is fairly simple to understand: within a transmutation circle, you can combine and recombine objects on a molecular level – from changing their state to shape. All of it is based on the principle of equivalent exchange. But a branch of alchemy applied to living beings is taboo because it has inexplicable results. Fate/god/truth – a being with different names – intervenes and glimpses the ‘truth’, which requires a sacrifice, usually a part of their body. The original transmutation is rarely successful in such cases. Hence the taboo.

Cookbooks are, in my opinion, the easiest way of getting into your magic system, and they allow for adherence to Brandon Sanderson’s First Law of Magic, which makes it extremely enjoyable for the reader. This way, magic can be tidy and focused while allowing the writer and reader to focus more thoroughly on the character’s journey instead of explaining the magic system too much. And because they can be so well defined, often cookbook-style magic activations form the basis of highly complex systems.

Brandon Sanderson’s First Law of Magic: An author’s ability to solve conflict with magic is directly proportional to how well the reader understands said magic.

Examples: The Name of the Wind, Harry Potter, Elantris, The Wheel of Time

Barter

A barter is an exchange or an offering made to a (most often) supernatural creature that gives the user a power or some kind of reward. The most popular example of this is the crossroads deal with the devil or three wishes from a djinn in a lamp. In this scenario, magic is in the control of the supernatural entity, and they are either bound by a contract or by their own (good/bad/evil) will to execute the task requested by the non-magical character.

This form of magic system is aptly displayed in the Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud. Magicians in London summon demons from another world – each demon has its own ranking and power level – and these demons are under contract with these magicians to fulfil their wishes. While the demons continue to have a will of their own, the power of their magician – their ability to draw the circles, use precise commands – keeps these demons under their control. The stronger the demon, the higher the safeguards employed by the ‘magicians’.

To activate this power, the non-magical character may need to learn certain arcane arts or even make a journey to a forest full of hardships and trials, surviving to reach the being that may or may not grant their wish, perhaps with a catch. The short story Sunbird is a great example of this style of magic where the character must catch a sunbird, eat it, and gain immortality.

Examples: Cinderella, Pokémon, Cardcaptor Sakura, Beyblade

Divine

Gods are fickle beings. Supreme in strength, but they require much appeasement and only help, perform, assist or bless a character when it suits them. Think of them as business tycoons whose only question is ‘What’s in it for me?’

Prayers, offerings and belief over all else boost their power and, upon receiving this boost, they may consider helping out. The difference between barter and divine is that it is dependent on the will of the god and not on a specific, magically binding contract.

In the Godkiller, Hannah Kaner makes this magic system the basis of her entire world, where offerings and prayers are given to gods in exchange for blessings and guidance. On occasion, even help. But gods remain fickle and only appear or help when the offering is large enough or (for older gods) when they feel like it. Unless they are bound by a promise.

I like to think of this magic system as a cousin to the barter system. In the barter system, you are dealing directly with the salesperson who is there to offer their services (however tangentially as possible), whereas with the divine you are talking to the top boss who may or may not help you, solely depending on what’s in it for them.

However, it is important to remember that not all gods are made equal. Some gods do offer help freely, even taking an active role in helping the protagonist. In such cases, the god is crippled in some manner or of a lower power level, and for them, regaining their former strength is often the end goal.

Examples: American Gods, Percy Jackson, My Neighbour Totoro

Magical object

Objects of power are scattered throughout fantasy. From magic swords to rings to the witches’ broom. Enchanting an object, imbuing it with power outside of the character, helps plots move. They quickly provide exposition and the magical powers are often straightforward (for the most part). Wear the ring and become invisible. Hold the sword and say the command, become one of the Masters of the Universe.

Often, a magic object acts as a MacGuffin in a story – the object that all the characters are after. Without the One Ring, the whole plot of The Lord of the Rings falls apart. Here the ring is a MacGuffin, the heart of the web that draws in specific characters and we get their stories. The power within them can usually be activated in certain ways: Thor’s hammer can only be lifted by those of pure heart, or Callandor – The Sword That Cannot Be Touched – can only be touched by the Dragon Reborn (a spin on Arthurian tales). The Elder Wand in Harry Potter can only be won if you’ve defeated the wizard in a duel. Any character once wielding the object can employ some of its power, and it’s often fun to see these objects change hands to see how different people interpret and use that power – it becomes not only a distinction between characters but also showcases how they think.

Alongside having specific incantations or set scenarios, objects of power also have a sentience about them. Not always, but often enough to make them a minor character. From the Marvel movies, the flying cape of Dr Strange is a great example of this, as it helps the Doctor not just as he instructs but also on its own accord, showing an unflinching sense of loyalty and ingenuity in the way it works.

An object of power can also easily be explained away as a mythological item from the distant past where the older civilisations had the power/magic/ingenuity to craft such items. Unless the plot follows the creation of the object itself, which can make for a great arc – see the plot of Rings of Power.

Example: Death Note, The Lord of the Rings, He-Man, Sleeping Beauty, Ben 10

Self extension

This is by far my favourite form of magical activation. Here characters have a mutation or an extra sense they are born with or receive/gain/achieve in the course of their lives. From X-Men’s scientific mutations to Superman’s potential unlocked thanks to the yellow sunlight – they are all forms of physical extension and depend on certain internal or external conditions to manifest.

The way to activate this power is the reason why it is my favourite: the character is pushed to the brink, their back to the wall, and only then does this power come into play. This system is most effective when creating a character and diving into their psyche to showcase how, in moments of duress, the power comes into use.

This is superbly shown by Stephen King in his debut novel Carrie, where she accidentally activates her telekinetic powers. Throughout the book, her inner world is explored and slowly that power manifests itself in frightful ways, showing that the power isn’t important, but the one who wields it.

Activating such powers works as a great climactic moment and can show the completion of a character arc where they suffered from self-doubt or discrimination but have learnt to accept themselves, completing their metamorphosis. It can also be used to show the inner turmoil within the character. Howl’s Moving Castle provides an example.

This form of magic also provides an opportunity to showcase the character losing their powers and going on a journey of self-discovery, as in the Spider-Man 2 movie.

But while using this category of magical activation, I always ensure to keep Brandon Sanderson’s last two laws of magic in mind:

Law 2: Limitations > Powers.
Law 3: Expand what you already have before you add something new.

It’s a lot more fun for the reader to see a character find unique ways to solve a problem, rather than adding a new power to their list that simply solves the problem.

Examples: Spider-Man, Superman, Turbulence

Which will you choose?

I’ve listed the above types of activations separately, but they can be combined with multiple forms of magic systems to create something unique to the fictional world you’re creating. Like potions, which are magical objects (as are all ingested substances) but also require a cookbook methodology to create.

As a writer, your choice in the kind of activation you choose for your character sets a tone for the story and may also set up part of the plot and the challenges that character faces. If your character relies on a magical object, taking it away will show the readers the grit of your character to solve the problem without the magical object they rely on. Whereas if activating magic depends on a spell they must say in a particular way, as a challenge, the character can be mute or gagged or drugged and they must find an ingenious way to perform said magic.

In the world of Eragon, magic users must focus their thoughts using the ancient language and speak exactly the change they want to effect on the world. In this case, language, clarity of thought and even access to magic – which is considered an energy that exists in the world – is required, and often to stop the characters from using the magic, they are drugged using a special potion.

The type of magic you decide to describe within the world you’re building will affect the way your story is told, and choosing the right system for the world and character is of utmost importance.