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"Fall 12th, 1553, Age of Redstone," I recite, watching the teacher inscribe the date into a new page of my drill book.

"There you are, sweetheart: the date written proper. Do you know what to do next?"

"Yes," I reply. I look at the schoolbook to my left. "I am on page 67."

"Wonderful!" the teacher replies, "Just remember that it's a new year... that means new responsibility! From now on, you have to write the name AND date on all of your drills. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

I did not quite understand why Miss Fireheart wanted me to write such useless information on every single drill. If I were the teacher, I would not make my students write such useless information. Sadly, however, I am not an adult, so I don't have that kind of authority. Adults make kids do things. Such is the way of the world.

There is, however, one adult, whom I have recently met, who seemed to treat me differently than all the others. His name is Kenneth Forthright. I will meet him in the oak grove behind the schoolhouse this afternoon.

------------

I sit with my back against the sturdy bark of an oak, my dark hair warmed gently by the heat of the waning Fall sun. A breeze breathes softly through my blouse, giving my chest a chill.

I feel a light tap on my shoulder, and I feel slightly annoyed. Why can't my friends just leave me alone right now?

I turn around slowly and see Kenneth leaning against the tree, and my annoyance fades.

He eyes me thoughtfully, with a rugged grin. Between his fingers is a five credit bullion, its bronze sheen flashing against the angled sun. He flicks it into the air and holds his palm out. The coin halts its fall just above his palm, spinning rapidly as it bobs slightly up and down. Then the coin suddenly stops spinning, and then slowly spins the other way, before finally dropping into his hand, his fingers grasping them in the same manner as before.

My jaw drops. "That's a neat trick," I note with admiration.

Kenneth winks. "Perhaps I will show you some time." He slides the coin into a burlap pocket. "Do your parents know you're here with me?"

"No."

"Good. I wouldn't want them to worry about you. They do worry about you, you know."

"You are starting to sound like Miss Fireheart."

"Who's Miss Fireheart?"

"She is my schoolteacher."

"I see your point, but... Miss Fireheart doesn't keep secrets." His eyes gleam with adventure.

I feel a sense of foreboding, as if something horrible could happen, but there is something about this man that intrigues me. I want to know what it is, but I know that I cannot. What have I gotten myself into? My parents are going to be so angry when they find out where I am. I should have gone straight home the moment school ended...

"There is something about you which intrigues me as well. That is why I am here."

I feel my guilt fade slightly. It is as if Kenneth could read my mind. I feel understood... appreciated.

"Iris, do you trust me?" Kenneth turns to face me. His burgundy eyes bore deep into my own.

I look away to avoid the weight of his stare. "I am not sure that I do..."

"Are you afraid of me?"

I hesitate for a moment. "A little bit."

"Then why are you here?" Kenneth counters, a hint of anger creeping into his voice.

"Because you told me to come here," I reply.

"Let me give you a better reason." Kenneth holds out his hand. "I am giving you a choice. You can come with me, and I can show you what you are capable of, or you can go home, and never see me again."

"Why do I have to choose now?"

"I don't trust you enough to keep my existence a secret forever. I guess I would say that the lack of trust is..." Kenneth sighs, "mutual."

I nod, beginning to understand.

------------

I follow Kenneth out of my home town and onto a trail on the open plains. Light turns to sunset, and sunset turns to dusk. At first I am excited, but then I begin to think about my parents... and my school... and my friends. I realize I have made a huge mistake following a strange man I hardly know.

"I don't want to follow you anymore. I want to go home," I tell him.

"It's too late now. You should have gone home when you had the chance."

"When can I go home?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, but you won't be able to go home for a while." Kenneth is starting to treat me like a child. His voice has become more bitter. "Stay close to me. It's for your own good."

We soon arrive at another town. Orange, flickering lights glow from building windows. We pass two guards which nod in unison.

"Welcome back," the guard on the left greets us.

On the opposite side of the guards is a sign that reads, "Britwal: The City of Light"

------------

Who am I? Iris... or Fristad? I don't remember anymore.

I feel disoriented and lost. Pages have begun to cling to me like parasites. My arm is stiff as I try to reach for my side, peeling away a page painfully, like an underdeveloped scab.

I slowly raise the page up to my face. The page is full of rips and holes. The letters visible on the page are jumbled, forming neither words nor lines. I have to find meaning in those letters. I have to fix the broken memories, before they consume me.

My memories of Kenneth Forthright are few, but I know for certain that he was a madman. There can't possibly be an ounce of good in him. He brought me to the Britwal Tavern, where he hurt that miner. Whenever I tried to escape, he found me and took me back... or was that all just a dream?

More pages cling to me. I feel myself fading. My thoughts drift to pages, to lexical structures, to the void.

I hear a deep, metallic voice. It's hard to hear what it says because it's so faint. I only make out the tail end of it.

"You're going to be okay."

It is deadly quiet. The trees are perfectly still. The cliff walls, hiding behind the fallen underbrush, resist even the smallest echo. The sky is still. Time is still.

The air is thin now, too fickle to make me feel hot or cold. A cabin nestles against the cliffside brush. Kenneth looks at the cabin, and then looks at me. His face is calm, dignified.

We approach the cabin door, twigs cracking under our shoes. Above the firm oak door is a small stained-glass window. Its colored tiles are muted by the sunlight, reduced to a formless web of shapes.

Kenneth steps in front of me and opens the door, which gives way silently. I step inside. The air smells faintly of oil and wood shavings. To my left is a tan coat hanger, on which hangs a robe and a pair of thin-soled slippers. Underneath my feet is a grey wolf pelt.

The door clicks closed behind me. I hear a deep sigh.

"Finally, we're alone! Ha ha." Kenneth laughs awkwardly.

I feel his hand on my shoulder. I turn to face him.

"Iris, surely you know, at this point, why it is that I brought you here?" Kenneth is crouching, facing me eye-to-eye.

The question hangs in the air.

"Come on, spit it out."

"You want me... to become your apprentice," I answer softly.

"Right you are!" He lifts his hand off my shoulder and onto his knee. "You see: this is why I knew you were the one. With any other child your age, my hinting would be way over their head... or they'd think it's some stupid game." Kenneth's lips widen into a grin. "Of course... learning to use one's life force to manipulate matter is far from a game. Take your shoes off and follow me. I will show you what it means to be a mage."

My heart beats faster as I tear off my shoes. I follow Kenneth through the coatroom corridor and into a stately living room. To the left, richly upholstered chairs face a brick fireplace, lightly coated with ash. A plush, white fur rug covers the open floor. At a table with chairs to the right sits an unfolded map, a protractor, a compass, a stack of papers and a flint pen with a honing stone. On the opposite wall is a bookcase with a collection of books, more stacks of folded papers, drawers, and small crates. The top two shelves are nearly empty. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling...

I look to my left and notice Kenneth leaving through a door, not bothering to wait for me. I run to catch up.

The next room looks not unlike a kitchen. There are furnaces, pots, buckets, cabinets... but on the upper shelves are more unusual things: a surplus of thick books, jars of powder, sealed pouches, and many sizes of empty glass flasks...

We reach a metal door with neither a knob nor a handle. Kenneth places his palm upon its center. A moment passes, and then I hear a click. The door swings open on its own.

We enter a third room, which looks partly like a library, partly like an emporium, and partly like an armory. Kenneth's fingers stretch out, brushing the metal blades, bows, and twisted staffs which hang against one side of a bookshelf. He then licks a finger and slides it along a series of books, pausing to pull out a green-bound tome with gilded script, titled "Focus and M.A.N.A.: Volume II."

"This is where, you could say, all the magic happens." Kenneth lays the book upon a podium and opens the cover. He flips through the pages one by one until, finding something, he pokes his finger through the thick of the tome and spreads the pages flat.

Kenneth reads for a few minutes, then closes his eyes. His face relaxes. His breathing deepens.

A current of warmth makes me stiffen instinctively. An inescapable feeling convinces me that something big is about to happen. I feel a distinct presence begin to grow. I reach for it, but it falls out of my grasp like the falling step on a Jacob's Ladder. My eyes focus on Kenneth. He is at the center of this strange presence.

Kenneth's eyes open and focus upon me. His eyes now glow silver. He raises his hands with a smirk. I feel a faint rumble.

A sliver of violet light appears in front of Kenneth. It spreads around him as it widens, its center becoming whiter and paler. Light begins to bend around its edges, its immediate surroundings deprived of color. It is half a meter tall now. Stars appear in its grey center and spread outward. The purple at its edges grows thinner as a grey haze spreads out from the source. The strange form is now over a meter wide in every direction.

I knew this man was more than just a stage magician.

Kenneth's breath itself echoes from the walls as he inhales to speak. "I am a mage of void." His voice booms with energy. "I study the flames which rage beneath the bedrock, whose billows formed the rifts of the Farlands. I practice the magic of forgotten memories and forbidden worlds. This hole you see is a rift into the deep void, the stuff which flows between other worlds." He plunges his hand into the starry grey cloud. His crazed silver eyes flicker and then glow even brighter. "I coexist with the element of destruction, the substance in which even the soul dissolves. What could tear my flesh from bone has instead made me stronger. What could steal all my knowledge has instead made me wiser. What could destroy my being has instead defined my very existence. Void fire is as much a part of me as the blood which flows through my veins!"

He pulls his hand out. The rift collapses with a sharp crack. Kenneth's eyes, still fixed upon me, lose their silver glow. "However, the void is not for weak minds. If given the chance, it will burn every part of you. Given enough time, it will break into your mind, destroying what you know and believe, and you will then feel the distinct pain of nothingness. However, if you befriend the void, you will gain access to its ever-burning flame, you will gain its deep connection with knowledge and the mind, and you can use its energy as if it were your own. If you become my apprentice, I will teach you everything I know about magic and the void. Do you accept?"

"I accept." I respond immediately, both blessing and loathing my decision. The danger feels so real... but so does the power. The intrigue of magic, the glorious stories of mages I've read in books, the hope of harnessing such energy as my own... all are too much to resist.

"Wonderful... although I must admit that I am not surprised at all. You always try to hide your excitement about magic, but I know your feelings are greater than they appear. You becoming my apprentice was inevitable."

"And yet you had to drag this process on, just to make sure." I smile.

"For a while, yes, but let us not forget that you also had cold feet, worrying what your life would be like without your parents and your friends. I was beginning to doubt you could handle the change, but then my doubts were proven wrong." Kenneth closes the book and puts it away.

There he goes about my parents and my friends again. Why does he have to keep reminding me of them? It just makes it harder for me to not miss them, when I really should be focusing on magic right now...

How long am I going to be away from home?

"Jeez, I got carried away," Kenneth admits. "I guess I'm just so enamored with void magic that I had to share it with you, you being my new apprentice and all. I guess I should give you a tour, then."

Kenneth explains the various aspects of the magic room, its many books, its weapons, and strange crafting devices. When we leave, the metal door closes behind us. Kenneth continues the tour through the kitchen which is part alchemy lab, and across the living room, toward the wall of bookshelves. We turn left, and enter a room which is rather empty for its size, having only a twin bed with a nightstand and a dresser across from it. The mattress is bare, with neatly folded bed sheets stacked on top of it. Light streams in calmly from a small window next to the bed. The air smells fresh.

"This is where you will sleep," Kenneth says. "It's a work-in-progress, since I've moved into this house quite recently."

The reality of my new home sinks in. I imagine laying under the covers of the bed at night, casting magic light spells to make shadow puppets.

"Now I'll show you my room."

Kenneth leads me across the living room and into a study, complete with a tilted desk and a haphazardly filled bookshelf. Beyond this room is a half-closed door. Through it I can see a sofa next to curtained windows. Kenneth opens the door, revealing a grand draped bed with a nightstand on one side and a chest in front. To its left are a pair of dressers and a fur rug.

"I just thought I'd let you see it so as to satisfy your curiosity. As a general rule, however, you are not allowed inside, and you shall not disturb me. If the matter is urgent, you must knock, but you must not, under any circumstances, enter. The same rule applies to the study we are standing in. Do I make myself clear?"

I nod.

Kenneth closes the door to his study behind us.

"I'm glad we've gotten that little formality out of the way, haha," Kenneth laughs awkwardly again. "Aren't you? Man, do I hate being the bad guy, but that's one of the few things I have to ask of you... aside from what your training requires, of course..."

Kenneth's voice slows. He gazes blankly for a moment, as if absorbed in thought... and then he smiles at me. "Speaking of your training, how would you like to practice a basic spell or two? You can read, right?"

"Of course I can read," I respond, slightly annoyed. I'm not a three-year-old, after all.

"Great! Follow me so I can get you a book."

Kenneth leads me across the house, beyond the door without a knob. We walk behind the bookshelf behind the podium, the same podium where Kenneth cast the void rift spell. There are mostly books on the following shelves. A wall clock painted with the sun and moon rests on its side behind some books.

Kenneth scans the shelves for a while. His brow narrows with confusion. "I need to re-organize these. Aha, found it!" He reaches up toward a higher shelf and pulls out a worn, brown book. He hands it to me.

It is much thinner than most of the tomes I have seen so far, but its weight is enough to make me feel giddy. This is where it all begins, isn't it? Will learning magic for the first time change how I perceive myself? I turn the book over to read the title:

"Elementary Telekinetics"

"This is an instructional book, if I remember correctly," Kenneth notes, "so it should go over the basics of spell mechanics and magic safety and the like. Just be sure to read it carefully starting from the first page, and don't skip anything."

I open the book and turn over the first few pages until I reach a page titled "Introduction."

"Ah, there's no need to strain yourself reading that book while standing. You can read it at the table in the living room. Come on, I insist!"

I feel Kenneth's hand push gently against my back. My sense of excitement fades into... awkwardness. The light pressure of his hand guides me around the bookshelves, past the handle-less metal door, through the kitchen, and leftward towards the table in the living room, where the same map lays unfolded as before. I feel the pressure of Kenneth's hand finally lift from my back. Kenneth walks forward and pushes the stack of papers to the other side of the table; then brushes aside the map, compass, and writing utensils. He pulls out a chair from the table.

Was it really necessary for Kenneth to lead me all the way to this desk? No, of course not. I am perfectly capable of seating myself.

"There, that should do it. I'd say sitting at a desk is a far more productive way to study, wouldn't you agree? Now, if you excuse me, I must go sit at my own desk, in my own private study. If you need something from me, remember to knock."

I nod, and watch Kenneth walk away with his hands clasped behind his back. His posture emanates a profound sense of purpose, restoring my awe for him once more. I watch him open the door and disappear behind it. The door thuds softly shut against the wood frame.

It is as if the moment Kenneth faded from my vision, he faded from existence as well. Whatever arcane texts he pores over are now a mystery to me, as long as they are separated by that forbidden door. Will there ever come a day when I too will pore over magical texts as arcane and obscure as his? Will there ever come a day when I too will stand at a podium, just like Kenneth did a few minutes ago, and spawn a void rift on a whim?

I really hope so.

I place my open textbook onto the table and sit down. My eyes land upon the first line:

------------

Introduction

You are most likely reading this spellbook as one of your first instructional textbooks. If so, then it is with great honor that we, the authors of this spellbook, welcome you to the world of magic. As with all introductory magic books, we begin first with a brief history of magic.

No one knows who were the first humans to practice magic. Estimates of its origins range from 2000 Primordial to 1859 Diamond. The earliest evidence comes from stone tablets excavated from the Valley of the Celestial Craters, a region of badlands in Inner Minecraftia which is also where the first evidence of mining is found. The tablets, dated between 2000 Primordial and 300 Iron, record a ritual where animals and incense were burnt as tribute to a humanoid deity with the head of a boar. The systematic manner in which the ritual was prepared implied knowledge of the innate energies of different materials, and the incantations used closely resemble known fire spells. However, many mages have attempted to replicate these rituals yet have failed to evoke any magic spell. It is still disputed whether these rituals involved magic that is simply inaccessible to us.

Later archeological evidence of magic use comes from sites of iron automata, or 'golems,' unearthed in the Muse Forests, which border the Farlands on the eastern frontier. While the golems are now no more useful than hollow scrap metal, there is clear evidence of wear at their joints, and traces of life magic still emanate from within them. This residual magic has allowed mages to date their 'deaths' between 200 and 800 Iron. It is uncertain how these golems were created, as there is no known earth spell which can infuse life into a hollow metal body. One theory states that a now-forgotten strain of earth magic was developed to improve the quality of life for the people of the Muse Forests, which would later lead to the creation of the golems and the westward dissemination of magic. However, this contradicts some theories modeling the spread of magic; these theories suggest that the adoption of magic in distant regions occurred too soon for the knowledge of "Musite" magic to reach them. It is also uncertain whether humans were responsible for creating the golems in the first place, given the fact that the technology used to create them never spread westward.

As these two pieces of historical evidence illustrate, the origins of the human practice of magic are shrouded in mystery. Signs of human magic use have been dated widely throughout the Age of Iron, although they are as heavily disputed by scholars as the religious rituals and Musite golems which came before them. However, taken as a body of evidence, it is almost certain that humans practiced magic at some point during the Age of Iron. It is also widely believed that the first mages, whenever they lived, practiced magic in secret, since magic had been condemned by society as demon worship up until near the end of the Age of Iron.

A recorded event which puts a decisive upper bound on the discovery of magic appears in the book "The Intelligent Nature of Wind and Tempests" written by Heidi Marcson in 1859 Diamond. The book is still studied by wind mages to this day. It is prefaced with a record of Marcson's meeting in the royal court of King Gino I, where Marcson first recounted her discoveries of how summon and control the wind. The preface of the book ends with the king's signature, and the original copy contains Gino's seal of approval, a symbol of the Minecraftian government's acceptance of Marcson's findings as valid academic research, and furthermore, an acceptance of magic by members of the aristocracy.

King Gino's endorsement would prove to be a boon for the study of magic, which would spread greatly throughout the Age of Diamond. Only two decades after Heidi Marcson published her book on wind magic, Maccoy Rexerthos published his famous work "Organization and Methods for the Study of Magic." You may already be familiar with Rexerthos' classification of magic into four primary elements: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. Rexerthos is considered a pioneer in the institutionalization of magic. Many of the major schools of magic would form based on the educational system which he developed, each assigned its own pantheon of patron deities based on Rexerthos' elemental classification. You may recognize some of the the common deities associated with earth magic: Stephine, Herobrine, Garrus, and Mallus. There are patron deities associated with the schools of Fire, Water, and Air magic as well, in addition to a few more specialized schools, such as the school of Life magic. As you will discover in more advanced spellbooks, some elemental spells must call upon the name of one or more of their respective patron gods. Rexerthos' choices for primary elements and patron gods were no coincidence; his works synthesized from the body of knowledge and belief systems which existed at that time. Many of those belief systems have persisted to this day.

As we have mentioned, Maccoy Rexerthos was responsible for developing an elemental theory of magic. This theory, at its core, divides magic into four basic elements, and states that all forms of magic are combinations of those four elements. However, as with any theory, Rexerthos' elemental theory is limited, and thus other theories began to develop throughout the Age of Diamond.

One such theory is the Theory of Inverse Suppression, proposed by the Council of the School of Earth Magic in 2554 Diamond. This theory instead classifies magic along a continuum of characteristics, such as the origin and the density of the material manipulated. The basis of the theory is that the farther away two forms of magic are on the continuum, the less compatible they are. The theory is particularly well-suited to explain why a mage cannot practice two seemingly opposite forms of magic, such as Fire magic and Water magic.

Another alternative theory is the Object-Agent Theory, developed in 3518 Diamond by Hal Shadesmith and Emelon Neildon. It draws some inspiration from the way that magicians used to think about magic before it became heavily institutionalized, such as the work of earlier well-known scholars like Heidi Marcson. The earlier way of thinking about magic associated levels of soul-like consciousness to all things; from people, to animals, to manmade tools, to forces of nature. This idea of magic was criticized as mysticism, and rightfully so as the system was weighed down with religious bias. However, there was some truth to the system, as it could predict how the effect of a spell cast on a human could differ from the effect of the same spell cast on an animal. The idea as refined by Shadesmith and Neildon states that the effect of a spell is determined by a combination of intelligence and magic susceptibility, due to the fact that a spell conveys both information and energy. Much of this textbook draws from this theory, as you will see in the first chapter.

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I lift my head from the final line of the page and take a deep breath. That was definitely not like the textbooks my teacher makes me read at school. Those were dull by comparison. It reminds me of my parent's books; the sentences are longer and far more interesting, although there are some words in it that I could not understand, like "implied" and "theory." Maybe I can ask Kenneth what they mean...

I draw my eyes to the left, to the closed door on the other side of the living room.

I would ask him, but he said he did not want to be disturbed in his study. But surely Kenneth would make an exception for the sake of my studies?

I stand up from my chair and walk to the door.

I remember now. Kenneth said it was fine if I knock first.

I rap my knuckles against the door.

"Just a minute..." I hear Kenneth's muffled voice from the inside.

The door opens with Kenneth's brown eyes peeking out.

"What do you want?" he asks in a slightly annoyed, monotone voice.

"What do 'implied' and 'theory' mean?"

"'Implied' means 'logically connected to something.' A 'theory' is an idea that is good at explaining things." Kenneth partially closes the door, leaving only half of his face visible. "Anything else?"

"I think I understand what they mean a little better..." Maybe they would make sense better in context. "Hold on, let me get the textbook."

"So Iris... how far did you get in the spellbook?" Kenneth asks me before he bites the unidentified piece of meat off of his fork.

We are seated at the same table in the living room where I was studying earlier. Kenneth is seated at one end of the table, me at the other. The table has been cleared of everything but our dinner meals, making the wooden surface between us appear barren and long.

"I am most of the way through the the third chapter," I respond.

I rest my elbow upon my chair's arm and my chin upon my hand, tired from the long day spent traveling and then studying. The chunk of meat on my plate is an odd color. It is some shade of light brown, but more yellow than the meat that I am used to eating at home. There are unsightly black patches in places where the meat appears to have been cooked too much. I am hesitant to take the first bite. It probably tastes even worse than it looks. I won't even dare wonder what the fibrous green mush next to it tastes like.

"Did you finish the part about magic safety yet?" Kenneth's words are slurred by the food in his mouth.

"I did."

"Fine, then. Recite the principles of safe beginner's spellcasting." Kenneth cuts another piece of meat onto his fork and lifts it to his mouth.

"Well, I remember one rule was to always get permission from an instructor before reciting a spell for the first time. And then there was -"

"Wrong." Kenneth cuts me off. "You must get permission every time you recite a spell. It doesn't matter if you have recited the spell before. It's still dangerous. Do you understand?"

"Yes." I nod.

"Just to be clear, who is the instructor whom you must ask permission from?"

"That instructor would be you," I reply.

"Good. What is the next rule?"

"The next rule is to never skip words when reciting spells," I recall aloud.

"That is correct," Kenneth replies as he chews. "If you do not recite the spell in its entirety, you will drain your mana but the spell will fail... if you're lucky. What is another rule?"

"The next rule was... hmm..." Before I can say it aloud, the rule barely escapes from my mind. I switch my focus to trying to remember the other rule. "I know one rule involved keeping track of... something to do with my energy."

Kenneth shakes his head. "No, Iris. Not just any energy: your mana pool. You are supposed to keep track of your mana pool. Early on, you will not be able to sense the mana itself, but you will be able to tell when your mana pool is completely drained. Do you remember how to tell?"

"I think the spell is supposed to pull on me somehow... painfully," I reply.

"That's right. When your mana pool is drained, any spell you cast will begin to draw from your own vital energy, and you will begin to feel pain. Now, suppose you're reciting a spell and you begin to feel pain. What do you do?"

"I stop the spell after I finish the sentence I am on," I reply.

"Right. You must finish the sentence to mitigate how much energy is drained, and then stop immediately. Never force a spell. If you feel pain, that's your body warning you that you are exerting yourself beyond your limits." Kenneth crosses his arms and leans back into his chair. "It doesn't matter where the pain is; the pain could start anywhere, even in the very tip of your pinky toe for all we know. It doesn't matter how small or seemingly insignificant the pain may be. By the time the pain starts to spread, it may already be too late. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. What is the last rule?"

"I can't remember..." I admit.

Kenneth's arms remain crossed. His brown eyes raise to meet my gaze.

"Unacceptable," He scorns. "You can't go on without knowing all of these safety rules by heart, and even then that wouldn't be enough. Every word in that book is worth its weight in gold. Unless you memorize that spellbook from cover to cover, you are going to be at a terrible disadvantage when we move on to the next spellbook. Do you understand this, Iris?"

I nod reluctantly. I am beginning to realize that Kenneth is a far stricter teacher than I had anticipated... and I am not sure I like that. Besides, it seems pointless to memorize an entire textbook just to learn the material. It reeks of the rote memorization exercises my schoolteacher Miss Fireheart used to give me.

"Keep in mind, you can't rush through the book just to memorize the words, either. You have to understand what you are reading, and not only that... you must read quickly."

Kenneth turns his head to the side. His brows clench slightly as if troubled by a distant thought, and then he forces his eyes shut. When he opens his eyes, his face is calm once more.

"Consider it a test," Kenneth continues. "You have three weeks to memorize every line, cast every spell, and prove that you understand all that you've learned. Succeed, and your training continues as normal. Fail, and your apprenticeship is over."

My jaw drops. Suddenly, the certain promise that I would become a powerful mage is replaced with just a possibility. What a nightmare it would be to learn the secrets of the energy of nature, to learn how to control it, to learn how to fulfill my dreams and become a beloved hero in the world... only to have it all taken away from me. A dream forever, relegated to story books! And to think Kenneth is the one pulling this ultimatum card on me? It is simply cruel!

"Why can't you just teach me like you said you would?" I protest. "Why must I pass some stupid rote memorization test?"

"If you think that my instruction is stupid, then I can bring you home tomorrow."

"No!" I plead.

"Then listen to me closely," Kenneth snaps. "In a little over a month, I will be attending my own graduation ceremony at the Bellsound School of Wind Magic. You will be coming with me. I have arranged a meeting after my graduation with my advisor, Grand-Mage Harris, to discuss the paperwork which would authorize me as an external instructor. In a nutshell, the paperwork would make our apprenticeship official. However, I first need to prove that the instruction I give you meets or exceeds the quality of instruction available at Bellsound. Otherwise, there's no way Grand-Mage Harris would authorize our apprenticeship, and I will have no choice but to bring you back home. This is the only chance you have to learn magic. Bellsound does not accept students as young as you, and even if they were to make an exception, they would still need permission from your parents, and your parents would never allow it."

I hang my head, feeling a little guilty. I should have known Kenneth was never like Miss Fireheart. He had good reasons behind his plans for my instruction, but I refused to have faith in him because I assumed he was just as dense as any other adult. But Kenneth is no ordinary man; he is a mage. I can only expect to achieve his abilities in magic if I listen to what he says.

"Now do you understand?" Kenneth asks.

I nod, this time in earnest.

"Aren't you going to eat your dinner? You aren't going to study well tomorrow if you sleep on an empty stomach."

"Oh, sorry," I apologize. Driven with new obedience, I pick up my fork and knife and cut into the meat.

Shapes. Colors. Sounds. Smells. What were once distant letters have merged inside of me to form words, phrases, tangible pieces of consciousness. It is as if Iris' memories are being reformed inside of me, as if I am experiencing them first-hand.

But now, at the very least, I can understand what is happening, why these sensations are appearing before me. I can finally distinguish Iris' memories from my own.

I strain my arm to reach for the last piece of paper stuck to my face. I feel my grip snag. A faint force tugs my cheeks. I pull hard and the mess of letters and sensations fade away, replaced with a burning pain across my face.

I open my eyes and see... nothing. Just darkness. I focus my ears and hear... nothing. It's a darkness I've only encountered rarely, in those moments before my tired mind goes to sleep. Does that mean I'm dreaming?

"I'm afraid not..." I hear a familiar, deep voice reply softly in front of me.

A faint grey form appears in front of me, a light in this darkness as uncertain as a shadow in dim light. As I observe it, it becomes taller, more humanoid. I begin to notice slim, bony legs and long, slender fingers. Before my eyes rest directly upon the being's head, I compulsively turn away.

That hunched neck and slim, protruded jaw could only belong to an Enderman, but where its glowing eyes ought to be, there are only black, empty holes.

"There is no need to avert your gaze," the creature speaks in its slow, deep, metallic voice. "The fire in my eyes burnt out long ago."

I raise my gaze to the two black holes that ought to be eyes and, true to the creature's word, the creature remains still.

"If your eyes aren't glowing, then you must be dead. Does that mean I'm dead?" I ask.

"Not quite. Your body is elsewhere, but your mind is here, with me."

"How can I still be alive if I don't have my body anymore?"

"As someone who has been trapped here for millenia, I can assure you that this place is no afterlife. It is possible, although difficult, to interact with the outside world. I would myself... but I am so very tired..."

After letting out the last three words with an exasperated sigh, the grey form fades into the darkness.

"Please, come back!" I cry out. "If you know how to communicate with the outside world, then please, show me how!"

I pull at the pages clinging to my arms, binding my legs, glued against my back, until scraps of paper litter the black floor and my body throbs all over with fiery pain. Finally, I'm rid of those ticks!

I run forward into the darkness. If I'm not in my body anymore, then that means Iris took it from me. Iris could be attacking Jonas right now, and unless I find some way to interact with the outside world, there's nothing I can do about it!

Suddenly, I hear a click, as if I have suddenly awoken from a deep sleep. Dim light surrounds me, and I find myself standing in the aisle of a familiar library.

The bookshelves are as tall and impossibly long as I remember. I still remember the smell of old paper and wood shavings. However, now there are other smells: old wood, mold, and dry rot.

I sprint into the joining bookshelf aisle and glance left and right. To my right, I see the lightless Enderman walking slowly. I run up to it and grab its shoulder.

"Please, I beg of you!" I cry out. "Show me how to communicate with the outside world! My friend is in danger of being killed!"

"Son of Herobrine, have mercy..." the Enderman whispers. "After saving your life, my energy has been greatly drained. When I last checked, your body's hands were tied behind your back, your body unconscious from Ender fire and blood trauma. Please, I beg of you, let me rest and recover. There is still time to save your friend."

The creature sighs with the sound of an inflating balloon, except the rush of air is stuttered from the heaving of its trembling body. I lift my hand from its shoulder in sympathy.

"If you wish to make yourself useful," it whispers, "find one of the bookshelves that has collapsed, and repair the tattered and jumbled pages as you have done before. Perhaps it may help Iris see reason."

"I understand," I reply.

I turn around and run through the endless aisle, scanning the bookshelves for damage. After a minute of running, I see a mound of papers and crushed book bindings, partially buried in decaying wood. I walk closer, and notice the corners of some of the pages begin to lift up, as if gravitating towards me.

I clench my eyes shut and plant my legs firmly. I hear the sound of the first piece of paper flex as it tumbles through the air.

I don't know if I will ever get my body back, and after these pages consume me again, I don't even know if I will get my memories back. Perhaps it is futile to struggle against a being who can control minds, but I refuse to stand around idly. I owe it to Jonas... and to myself.

Today is a wonderful day indeed!

I breathe in the pristine mountain air until my lungs are bloated with it. I sink my arms elbow-deep into my dragon's down, its feathers each of every color of ten rainbows. Its wings bat with such finesse and such grace, that I feel as secure upon my dragon's back as if on solid ground, even as we climb ever higher into the clouds.

Ever since I learned magic, everything has changed for the better. Just this morning, I spotted a prince and princess clinging for dear life from the balcony of a burning castle. Thankfully, I had mastered my storm spells just the week before, and so I judiciously called upon my rain spell to quench the castle of flames before any harm could be done, after which I sped down on the back of my dragon to ask the boy and girl if they were alright. The two lovers were so delighted by my heroic deed that they sped through the castle and brought to me a green velvet bag tied with gold tassel. As I soon learned after my departure, this was a magical bag, whose contents were constantly replenished with fresh muffins of every flavor imaginable. It was a thoughtful gift indeed, and just in time for breakfast!

I wipe the crisp muffin crumbs from the corner of my lips and lick the crumbs off my fingers. The roof of my mouth is still coated with the muffins' eggy and sugary dough. I lean back into my dragon's thick, plush down, my arms stretched wide upon the feathers, appreciating the fullness in my stomach.

...and what a delicious breakfast that was!

I roll over to the side of my dragon's back and look down. The lush green forest is so far beneath us now that it appears flat. The clouds laying on the forest cling close to their shadows, making them appear like paper cutouts glued over a painting. All of it is muted by a thin white film of atmospheric fog, like a painting bleached by the sun.

I sit up and peek beyond my dragon's rainbow-colored mane. Far ahead of us are mountain peaks covered in snow and clouds, a three-dimensional anomaly blocking the path to the horizon. Our destination is a castle somewhere beneath those clouds, the Britwal School of Magical Arts, where I will meet with Kenneth for our daily magic training.

What spell will we be learning today? The tree-growing spell? The fire storm spell? The ultimate teleportation spell?

No, those spells sound too boring. I have an even better spell in mind: the Super-Incredibly-Undead-Annihilation Spell! What other legendary spell would be capable of vanquishing the army of undead approaching from the East tomorrow? Scratch that... the GIANT army of undead. And there will also be necromancers... and dire wolves... and evil fire wizards too... and they will all be riding dragons!

Now that I think about it, since most of those evil beings are not undead to begin with, I should also learn the Ultra-Incredibly-Evil-Magic Annihilation Spell as well. I already mastered the Super-Incredibly-Evil-Magic Annihilation Spell, but one can never be too careful when battling against Very-Incredibly-Evil-Magic. Training that spell to the next level is certain to secure my victory, even with all the Very-Incredibly-Evil Dragons on the opposing side.

I rub my hands together in excitement. There is going to be a lot of magical energy flying around in that mountain school today. I hope the custodians are ready because castle walls are definitely getting busted.

I hear a deep rumble beneath me as my dragon prepares to speak.

"Oh wise and mighty Iris," the dragon speaks in its deep, powerful voice, "Pardon me for questioning your wisdom, but could you perhaps be making too heavy use of common plot tropes? I am sensing that you have summoned yet another army of undead to challenge us from the east, and... please excuse me for saying this, as I love a good undead army battle as much as the next dragon... but I do hope you would consider adding some variety to the plot... perhaps by introducing a new, more formidable villain, or instead by padding the action with some filler to drain the emotional tension. Perhaps you could even make your main character face some relatable psychological weakness."

"Silence, dragon! I have no need for your brainless plot ideas!" I command. "I would destroy you this instant if I were not too lazy to come up with what the next dragon I summon would look like. Plus, your fur is really fluffy..."

I lean back into the down of the dragon and feel my body sink into it. I hope the flight to the mountain school lasts a few more hours so I can just lay here and appreciate how wonderful it is to rest in this perfect cushion.

I stretch my jaw open and yawn deeply. Before I can close my mouth again, I feel the urge to yawn once more. Even the fresh mountain air feels heavy and warm in my throat now.

"Why do I feel so tired all of a sudden?" I wonder aloud. I feel my eyelids close.

"Wake up, Iris!" I hear calling above me.

I yawn again. "What are you talking about? I haven't even fallen asleep yet!"

------------

As I say those words, I feel myself mouthing them with my lips, and the exertion of my voice forces me awake. As the dim morning light brightens around me, I feel the lovely memories... of the view of the lush forest from the sky, of the dragon's uncountable rainbow feathers, of the taste of those perfectly sweet and eggy muffins... fade until they are nearly forgotten, no matter how hard I try to claw them back with the power of recollection.

My vision above me is blocked by the face of Kenneth leaning over me, his eyes devoid of sympathy for the damage he had caused by forcefully pulling me out of my dreams. How dare he make me forget the taste of those delicious muffins!

The image of Kenneth's smile registers in my sleepy mind, and I suddenly remember why I am here. Complaining about forgetting what dream-muffins taste like would not make a good first impression on Kenneth as my instructor.

"Glad to see you're awake. We're gonna be on a busy schedule, so you better get used to waking up early... haha!"

Kenneth emits his trademark awkward laugh again. I think it is starting to wear on me a little.

I stretch my arms from underneath the blankets and slide my legs out of bed. The floor under my feet is freezing cold. I lean forward, and feel cool air creep down my body as the blankets slide off of my arms.

I already miss being in my warm bed.

------------

I sit down and drop the book onto the living room table. The thump of the impact makes me jump.

"Be careful with that book, Iris," Kenneth nags. "It's very difficult to replace."

"Okay. Sorry," I reply impatiently. I estimate the beginning of the first chapter and finger apart the pages of the textbook.

"Why are you giving me such a hard time?" Kenneth asks.

"I just want to get this over with," I insist frankly.

"There is no 'over with,' Iris. Every sentence in that book needs to be memorized and analyzed thoroughly, not glazed over like some leisurely shortcut through the woods! Did you find the first chapter yet?"

After flipping back a few pages, I spot the first chapter title in large, bold print. "Yes."

"Give me the book. I am going to show you how to do this properly."

I lift the open book over my head and feel the weight of the book lighten as Kenneth grabs it.

"Watch closely, now..."

I turn the weight of my body to the side and cling to the back of my chair.

Kenneth's eyes dart back and forth at the page beneath him. After a couple seconds, he closes the book and takes a breath to speak. He recites the sentences each in turn at a breakneck pace, all without any discernible pause to breathe. As far as I can tell from my memory of the text, Kenneth recites every word perfectly. Kenneth must have spent days just reciting that one passage over and over again... yet he recites the words so spontaneously and sincerely that I feel as if he is speaking directly to me, his voice ringing with the passion of a scholar as he lectures to me on the theories of magic, relishing in the subtle explanations.

Suddenly, Kenneth's voice cuts off mid-sentence, perhaps only a few paragraphs into the text, just as I begin to forget that the words he speaks came from the book in his hands.

Kenneth's lips twitch into a lopsided smirk. "That is how you properly spell-read:" he declares with pride, "You read so that it's all present in your mind at once, but without... how do I put this... thinking about what the words sound like."

"That... sounds complicated," I reply, at a loss for words.

Kenneth's face becomes stern. "It isn't complicated. It only sounds complicated because apparently you've never done it before, despite everything you're supposed to have learned in school. You just need to be in the right state of mind."

Just as my imagination began to soar with the mysterious nature of spellcasting magic, Kenneth pulls me back to the earth with morbid adult pragmatism. Could Kenneth at least attempt to make spell-reading sound as fun as it did earlier? Could he at least pretend it was complicated?

"What am I supposed to do, then?" I ask.

"You look at each word, and you understand what each word means. You visualize the meaning of each word in your head as you do so..." Kenneth touches his hand to his temple. "...without thinking about what the word sounds like, until you have a clear picture of the meaning in your mind. You must do that for every word in the sentence before you say the sentence aloud." He hands the book to me. "That should be a good place to start. Do that with each sentence until you've memorized the entire chapter."

I grab hold of the book once more, and feel the weight of the spellbook return to my arms as Kenneth walks away.

------------

I have a terrible headache.

I rest my chin upon a page of the spellbook. My pupils scan carefully upon the letters on the page, yet the words no longer have any meaning.

A day and a half has already passed and I am still trapped on the first chapter, even though I can already recite every detail. I remember all the compound elements and the unclassified element Aether. I remember how all people, animals, and monsters innately spawn with a mana pool of a certain element, and that a human's dominant element is Earth at spawn. I remember how a sufficiently weak spell can be cast using any form of magic. I remember why a sentient being is vastly more difficult to levitate than an inanimate object of the same weight...

And I could keep going on and on! Yet, in spite of my perfect knowledge of chapter, Kenneth insists that it is not enough. Four times I have tried to show Kenneth that I am ready to move on to the next chapter, yet every time he refuses with the same bland, uninterested disappointment.

The first time I recited the chapter, Kenneth complained that my prose was flat. The second time, he complained that I was being too dramatic. The third time, he complained that my prose was flat again. And the fourth time, he complained that I was speaking "out of character." What is Kenneth supposed to be teaching me, acting lessons?

Kenneth said spell-reading was not supposed to be complicated, so why do I not already understand it? Surely a girl with my level of intelligence should be able to comprehend the chapter of any adult book within a day. The only possible explanation is that Kenneth is holding me back on purpose. These acting lessons are just the first of Kenneth's many convoluted instructional milestones, designed to slow me down, to prevent me from learning real magic...

...yet surely that cannot be the case! Kenneth would not have accepted me as his apprentice only to waste time teaching me useless information.

...unless it just seems like useless information because I do not understand it. Did Kenneth make a mistake in choosing me as his apprentice? Am I simply incapable of comprehending magic entirely? Is the great magician I imagined myself as in my dream... never going to be more than just a dream? No dragons, no heroic deeds, no earth-shaking spells?

How would I be able to tell?

I wake up. I had a weird dream. And now my headache is gone.

My headache had gotten so bad that I had it even in my dream. It was a strange dream. I was playing a board game composed of a meter-wide block of wood which was riddled with holes. Some of the holes had pegs inserted inside of them. My task as the player was to pull out a peg from one of the holes and insert it into another. But whenever I tried to bring the peg near another hole, my hand would be pushed away, as if by some invisible force. And every time that happened, my headache would become intensely painful, as if I was struggling to grasp some idea distant from my mind.

I glance at the sandstone rock sitting on the nightstand next to my bed. I recited my very first spell on that rock for a few hours yesterday. The spell was much shorter than the chapters I had recited previously, perhaps twenty pages long, and thus reading those few pages over and over made me feel like I was slowly dying inside. Every time I would finish the spell, I would quickly lay my hand upon the rock, to see if the temperature of the rock changed.

After a few hours of drudgery and concentration-induced headaches, I felt a small cramp in my left calf. I then stopped reading the spell the moment I finished my sentence. I am not certain whether that cramp in my calf was really caused by the spell. Maybe the pain was just a figment of my imagination. Maybe I let all that fear-mongering in the safety portion of the textbook get to my head. Maybe I could have recited the spell for just a few more hours.

I could never tell for certain if the rock felt any warmer. I want so badly to believe that it did.

------------

After breakfast, Kenneth leaves me alone again, and I resume reciting the spell. The headache I get is less painful than it was yesterday; maybe I am starting to get used to this intense level of concentration.

But then, after only an hour of recital, I feel the same small cramp in my left calf.

Maybe I am not sitting in this chair correctly. I straighten my legs and continue reciting the spell. A few minutes pass, and the pain in my calf grows stronger.

Maybe I should stop.

I finish my sentence and pull my eyes away from the page.

Even so, I find it suspicious that I feel the pain in the same place that I did yesterday. Maybe I slept in a funny position these past few nights. Maybe if I ask Kenneth about it, he will reassure me that there is nothing to worry about, and I can continue reciting the spell as before.

I slide out of my chair and land my feet on the ground. I should ask him, just to be safe.

I walk up to the door to Kenneth's study and knock.

"Just a few minutes," calls Kenneth's muffled voice from the other side of the door.

"Every time you say that, you take way too long," I insist. "Can you please answer my question? It is really important, and I promise it will only take a moment."

"No. It can wait."

I sigh deeply.

"Also, can you please not pick your skin while you're waiting? It's really gross."

"I do not pick my skin!" I insist.

------------

Kenneth finally steps out of the door, holding a stack of books in his arms. "So? What was your question?"

"I am trying to figure out why my leg was hurting while I was reciting the spell, even though I had only been reciting the spell for an hour," I explain.

"Of course it did," Kenneth responds objectively. "Your mana pool drained quite a while ago. It wasn't finished regenerating from yesterday."

"Is there any way you could fix it?" I ask. "Maybe you could cast a spell on me? Or give me a potion?"

Kenneth smiles and rolls his eyes. "Oh Iris, it really does not work that way!"

Kenneth's unnatural smile irks me. "Why are you smiling at me like that all of a sudden? What is so funny?"

"Oh nothing, really." Kenneth's smile grows wider. "You just have a lot to learn. Go play outside or something. You need a break."

"But I just started an hour ago!" I argue.

"Go play outside, Iris. That's an order." Kenneth is still smiling at me. He is mocking me, isn't he?

I drag my feet to the front door and slowly open it. As I walk through the door and into the open air, I grip the doorknob tightly, only letting go of it long after the door has closed.

Kenneth reminded me of my parents. He made me feel like a child. I hate him for that.

...but I also miss my parents.

I look up at the low-floating sun glowing just above the trees. It is still morning.

I turn my head right, looking at the faint path snaking southward between the trees.

I could run away. I could go home. I could see my parents again. I could see my friends. It would only take a day's journey if I start now. I would just have to follow the trail to Britwal City, and from there it's only a few hour's walk to my home town of Maplefall.

I may never be able to learn magic again if I leave... but I also have to punish Kenneth for treating me so dismissively.

I was already at my wit's end. All those days I spent studying intensely from the textbook, and where was Kenneth all that time, except in his study? Why didn't he teach me anything? Why did he put so many barriers in my way, giving me only a month to finish the textbook, forcing me to continue re-reading chapters well after I had memorized them? The reason is because I am not really Kenneth's apprentice. Kenneth brought me here solely to mock me. I lose nothing if I run away now.

I turn toward the house again and open the front door slowly, peeking in to make sure that Kenneth is not watching. Then I enter the foyer, close the door behind me, and walk into the kitchen, where I make plans for my departure.

------------

Maybe I took a wrong turn.

I turn back upon the forest path yet again, searching left and right. My legs are sore and burning.

Hanging against my hip is a makeshift bag I created by tying a blanket in a knot. With every other step, the weight of the bottled water inside of the bag bobs against my side.

When the sun is well overhead, I pause to sit and eat the lunch of melon and bread in my bag. Then I stand up, brush the dry autumn leaves off of my legs, and begin walking again.

I could have sworn that Britwal City was to the south, but perhaps I was mistaken. I have no choice but to return to Kenneth's house to avoid getting stranded in the dark.

I turn back once again and continue walking.

Surely Kenneth's house must be just around the next bend in the forest. Why does it feel like I have been walking for too long? Did I miss some other intersecting trail?

Pine trees become replaced with unfamiliar birch. The sky dims. I can no longer see the forest path.

I hear cracking joints and smacking lips.

The undead are beginning to spawn.

I hear rapid footsteps and sliding pebbles behind me. My heart begins to knock hard against my chest. I sprint into the slope of a hill and climb through the brush, looking for some place to hide... a cave, an indentation in a tree, a burrow... anything!

A weight slams into my back and pins me down into the ground. A twig scratches against my cheek. I hear heavy, distorted breathing. A rancid flesh smell makes me want to gag, but I cannot, as my lungs are compressed too much to breathe deeply.

Something cold grabs my arm. I feel myself dragged against the dirt. The weight of the zombie falls off of me. I feel myself being lifted. I look up toward my new captor and see a skeleton wearing leather armor. I kick the skeleton as hard as I can, but I feel as if I am attempting to kick against a solid wall. The skeleton pulls me firmly against its side.

"Let me go! Help me! Someone help me!" I yell hopelessly into the forest.

Then I scream.

"I am not here to kill you," the skeleton says calmly. "I am here to help you. Just close your eyes. Everything is going to be alright."

I close my eyes. But then I scream again.

The skeleton begins to run. I wonder whether or not I am going to die.

------------

I see a light. A door opens. I hear boot footsteps as I stare at a wood ceiling. I fall onto a sofa.

The face of a woman wearing a leather chestplate leans over me. Her hair is caramel brown.

It is as if there was a discontinuity of reality. What was the skeleton I saw earlier? Was this woman the skeleton?

She smiles. "Are you alright, kiddo?"

"Where are we?" I ask.

"This is my house," she answers.

"Yes, but WHERE are we? Are we near Britwal?" I ask. "And what happened to the skeleton?"

"Britwal is eight hours from here, but now is really not a good time to be outside. Please calm down." There is a worried look in the woman's face. "What's your name?"

"Iris." I answer.

"Are you hurt, Iris?" the woman asks.

I survey my body. With the exception of a scratch on my cheek from when the zombie knocked me to the ground, I feel no pain.

"No, I am fine," I answer.

"Where are your parents?" she continues. "Are they down in Britwal?"

"No, they live in Maplefall," I correct her.

"Oh, Notch! All the way in Maplefall? How in the world did you get here?"

Suddenly a gleam of curiosity shines in her eyes. She looks at me funny. Then her brows rise in surprise.

"Don't tell me you're Forthright's new apprentice!" She blurts out.

"You mean Kenneth Forthright?" I ask. How did she guess I was Kenneth's apprentice?

"Yes, Kenneth Forthright!" The woman's eyes grow wide. "What the heck is he doing with a young kid like you? And what were you doing out here so late?"

"I was trying to walk home to my parents, but I took a wrong turn," I admit frankly. "How did you know I was Kenneth's apprentice? Did you turn into a skeleton?"

The woman smiles and sits down on the couch near my feet. "It's not every day I see a little kid running around with their mana pool completely drained. And yes, I can turn into a skeleton. Pretty neat, huh? I'm sorry that I scared you."

"It is alright. I have a thick skin," I reply.

The woman chuckles. "I am pretty sure that's not what 'thick skin' means, but close enough."

"How do you know Kenneth?" I ask.

"Kenneth and I are colleagues," she replies. "We study alternate dimensions together. Pretty cool stuff. I'd love to talk about it, but it's getting pretty late, and a girl like you really ought to be getting some shut-eye by now. Have you had dinner yet?"

"No," I answer. Suddenly I become conscious of a gnawing emptiness in my stomach. I have not eaten since early in the afternoon.

------------

It is morning again. I stand in front of the door to Kenneth's house. The woman who transformed into a skeleton last night, Sarah, is standing behind me.

I knock on the door. A few moments pass in silence. I knock on the door again, and wait.

The door opens inward. Kenneth's face pokes out. His eyes widen in surprise.

"Gods..." Kenneth speaks with a sigh. "You're alive."

Kenneth opens the door all the way. As I step into the foyer, I feel the warm indoor air surround me again. I take off my shoes.

"So you DO know her!" Sarah remarks.

"Sarah, where did you find her?" Kenneth asks, his voice serious, almost accusatory.

"I ran into her last night when a zombie was just about to eat her brains. She was about thirty minutes south from my house. You should be grateful I was there to save her. What were you even thinking? You can't just let a little girl walk back to her parent's house all by herself!"

"Please stop calling me a little girl," I insist.

"I don't remember authorizing her to go back to her parents," Kenneth counters. He turns to face me. "Iris, you've made a promise that you cannot break. You're my apprentice now. You can't just visit your parents whenever you want. You need to stay here and study."

"I do not have to be your apprentice any more if I do not want to!" I fight back. "Especially if my master refuses to teach me!"

Something grotesque happens to Kenneth's face. It is an emotion that I have never seen before.

"Kenneth, don't do it," Sarah orders.

The grotesque look in Kenneth's face vanishes.

"I'm sorry," Kenneth says. His pupils sink down in shame. "I got carried away."

It is roughly noon. Kenneth and I are walking along a forest trail which wraps along a steep hill. Below us is a fern-covered creek.

In Kenneth's hand is a long, black staff. Both ends are tipped with sharpened iron tongs, bent inward like half-opened claws. Kenneth said it was for hunting.

Back in Maplefall, Kenneth and I used to go on many walks like this. Sometimes he would ask me simple things, like how school was going, or what I thought of the weather. Other times he would show me simple magic tricks, like card tricks or optical illusions. I did not think much of it at first; I though he was just one of my neighbors. Later on, Kenneth started to ask me deeper, philosophical questions. His questions began to challenge the rules of my parents and my school that I once complacently followed. I began to wonder if Kenneth's magic tricks were more than just sleights of hand. The more I spoke with him, the larger his world seemed compared to my own...

...but I had fooled myself into believing I would join that world.

"Iris..." Kenneth begins hesitantly, "I know you're thinking about running away again."

I say nothing, preferring not to affirm the obvious. I would have run away sooner, if I was not dependent on Kenneth for food.

"I really hope you reconsider," Kenneth continues. "You have so much potential. And I'd hate to see it all go to waste."

"I am not reconsidering," I state. "All this time, you have taught me nothing. You leave me with a spellbook that I do not know how to use, and then you shut yourself off in your study for the rest of the day."

Kenneth stops walking suddenly. He turns around to face me, anger locked in his brow.

"You know NOTHING," Kenneth seethes. "I cannot even begin to describe how wrong you are. All this time, I have been slaving over academic work. You have no business knowing it because it is simply beyond your comprehension at this point. But it is very important, I assure you. It is certainly more important than babying you over some introductory spellcasting techniques that you should be intelligent enough to teach yourself!"

I am speechless. Kenneth completely dismissed my criticism. Was I wrong to want help?

"Maybe this was not meant to be," I finally admit.

"Why do you say that? Because you think you aren't good enough?"

"No. There is just not enough time," I say.

"How would you know that? It's hardly been a week," Kenneth insists.

"It is just that..."

"Just listen to yourself," Kenneth says, his tone becoming softer, more patronizing. "You are making excuses. Where is your confidence? Where is your pride?" He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Don't let your doubts consume you. Just give it your all. A lot can happen in a few weeks."

I shrug Kenneth's hand off of my shoulder. "No. You are wrong."

"But you are intelligent, aren't you?"

"That is not what I meant!" I yell, hands clenching into fists. "I am not scared and I am not stupid! I never said I was! I simply refuse to be your apprentice any longer!"

"Oh..." Kenneth's brows heighten in emphatic sadness. "I see what the problem is. You've just lost your motivation." He smiles. "I think I can fix that."

Kenneth bends down, lays down his staff, sits on the dusty trail, and beckons for me to sit.

I sit down with resistance. I will not let myself react to Kenneth's sudden friendly shift of tone.

Kenneth's gaze turns toward the creek below. I follow his gaze and spot multiple animals walking along its bank: a flock of large birds and a feral cow.

"Some people claim," says Kenneth, "that they can see an animal's soul when they look into their eyes. Have you ever looked into an animal's eyes, Iris?"

I nod.

"What did you see?" he asks. "Do you think you could see their soul?"

"I do not know," I reply. "Sometimes light shines in their eyes, but I am not sure if this is just because light is reflecting off of them. But I am certain that animals have souls. They are living creatures, after all. Just like us."

"You would be correct," says Kenneth, "although the light in their eyes really is just a reflection. Most people who claim to have seen an animal's soul are really lying to themselves. I am one of the few people who actually has seen their souls."

"How could you see their souls?" I ask, rather skeptical of his claim.

"With void magic, of course."

"Oh..." I reply, not very satisfied with the answer. "But what I really mean to ask is... how did you use void magic to see their souls?"

"I don't know, to be honest." Kenneth smiles sadly. "It's one of those things that just came naturally to me, once I was able to control the void. I believe the void-fire allows me to penetrate some sort of psychic barrier. It's quite fascinating. I can predict exactly what the animal is about to do next. I can tell when the animal is hungry... or sad... or afraid. But it isn't necessarily what an animal thinks that is surprising, it's what an animal doesn't think."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, most of the time, an animal isn't thinking anything at all. Their mind is completely blank. They are exactly as dumb as you would imagine them to be."

"That does not sound right," I reply.

"But it's true!" Kenneth insists. "Animals have inferior minds. They cannot plan, or reason, or even appreciate their own existence. But that is not even the most surprising thing I've learned. The most surprising thing comes from the minds of humans themselves. Care to take a guess at what that might be?"

"What? That humans are stupid too?" I joke sarcastically.

"Of course not. Humans are quite intelligent. That's not the point. It makes no difference that humans are more intelligent than animals. The truth is that there is one thing that humans and animals have in common: both are incapable of free will. Human existence is just as meaningless and devoid of choice as that of animals."

"That is wrong," I insist. "I know I have free will. The actions and choices I make are my own."

"I never said there weren't exceptions," says Kenneth. "You are one of the few people who truly can think for themselves. That is why you have to stay here. Magic can unlock your potential in ways that ordinary humans couldn't even comprehend!"

I cannot help but notice the excitement within Kenneth's wide eyes. They are frightening, but they also hint at some tantalizing truth. What is it? What is it like to feel what Kenneth feels?

I snap myself out of it. This is no time to give in to hollow dreams.

"Do you remember the dragon from your dream?" asks Kenneth, "the dragon with rainbow feathers, that could fly higher than the clouds? The dragon you said you could ride whenever you wanted to?"

I nod. I do not remember telling Kenneth about that dream, but I still remember the dream. It was one of my favorite dreams. I wish I could return to it again.

"Are dragons real?" I ask.

"Well, we're not sure, actually. We've never actually seen one. We have reason to believe that they do exist, though."

"Really?" I cry with glee. Then I return to reason, remembering that I am supposed to be angry at Kenneth right now. "I do not believe you."

"Well, perhaps if you study hard, you may be able to find out someday." Kenneth smiles whimsically.

I ponder Kenneth's words. "I do not want to study about dragons unless I can tame them."

"Well, nobody knows yet if dragons can be tamed yet. You would have to study first to find out. That's how magic works, too. You don't get to know about it unless you work really hard first. That is why you have to learn the introductory spells on your own."

Kenneth drags the side of his hand against the ground and gathers the soil into his palms. He lifts his enclosed palms up to his face, blows briefly, and lets the dirt fall. A tiny yellow spark leaps from plume to plume, causing the flowing wisps to coalesce into a four-legged creature. As the creature's feet land upon the ground, its form becomes clear: it is a miniature dragon, with graceful feathered wings whose transient dirt tendrils flicker like tongues of flame, and a long tail which swishes slowly back and forth. Even though it is only an illusion, it is very beautiful.

Maybe I should stay a little longer, just so I can learn the spell that Kenneth just used.

Just as I begin to consider reaching my hand out towards the illusionary dragon, Kenneth blows briefly, and the swirling form of dirt collapses lifelessly onto the ground.

It is halfway through the third week, and I am still only on the second spell. To this day, I do not know if I ever cast the first spell properly, because the temperature of the rock never seemed to change. Perhaps Kenneth only let me move on out of empathy. I doubt he will continue to be so forgiving.

It is all the fault of my feeble, unreliable mana pool. I can only spend four hours reciting spells before the pain in my left calf forces me to abandon the spellbook for the rest of the day. There are still fifteen spells left, and only the lesser half of the month remains. I feel my chances of finishing the book and becoming Kenneth's true apprentice slipping away.

Sometimes, when I can no longer recite the spell, I sort Kenneth's papers or read fiction books. The rest of the time, I wander outside.

There was some good that came out of it. I found a giant spider which enjoys basking in a nearby forest clearing in the early afternoon. I am trying to befriend it. So far, I have tried giving it morsels of food left over from dinner, but it does not seem to respond. It does not mind when I pet it, though. Its prickly abdomen hairs always leave a strange, tingly feeling on my fingers. It is such a peaceful creature. It makes me wonder why humans and monsters cannot just live together peacefully.

I shake my head, forcing myself to return my concentration to the words in the spell. My eyes lock back at the letter I left off, and I begin parsing the words again. I come to the critical note in the spell:

"[After reading the following paragraph, focus your attention immediately upon the object you wish to levitate.]"

I read the final paragraph of the spell, and lock my eyes upon the sandstone rock at the center of the table. Something feels different this time. My will and desire feel heightened. A hole is forming within my mind, like an empty clay mold, into which a newfound power is pouring... forming... awakening. I feel a stream of consonants roll down my tongue and onto my lips:

Lift.

The sandstone rock obeys my command, elevating itself just centimeters above the table.

I feel as if my heart has flipped from beneath my chest. I cannot believe my own eyes! The rock is floating, after all those hours I spent reciting these spells in futility!

I can almost imagine the weight of the rock in my mind, as if I am holding the rock with a fifth limb. Can I lift it higher, I wonder?

The rock rises a tenth of a meter above the table. I cannot help but smile.

Can I spin it, too?

The rock begins to spin rapidly. Its motions are a blur. I fear that at the speed that the rock spins, either the rock will tear itself apart, or my mana pool will be completely drained.

Slow down, please!

The rock spins more slowly. I no longer feel the rock as simply a weight on an invisible limb. There is a leftness and a rightness to the rock, a back and front, a top and bottom. I can stop the rock in place and rotate it whichever way I please. I giggle with glee!

I hold out the palm of my hand. The rock drifts toward me and lays itself gently into my hand. I grasp the rock with my fingers.

This is just like the coin trick Kenneth showed me.

I set the rock down and look inquisitively at the spellbook laid open on the table. Could I lift it too?

The memory of levitating the rock remains strong. I doubt I even have to recite the spell again.

I focus my vision upon the binding of the spellbook.

Lift.

The spellbook rises a few centimeters.

Higher, I say!

The spellbook rises and tilts forward so I can see its pages. It feels heavier than the rock. Its weight is almost tangible.

I wonder if I can levitate the spellbook while reciting spells at the same time...

At my command, the pages flip back of their own accord as I scan for the start of the second spell. For the first time in several days, I feel a headache again. That must mean my mana pool is growing stronger again. I am unlocking my true potential!

After a brief lapse in concentration, I notice that the pages of the spellbook are flipping in the wrong direction. The disorder irks me. I stop the motion of the pages and make them move the other way again. The height of the book begins to falter. It is as if the book is rebelling against me!

Suddenly I feel a pain in my left calf. The pain shoots upward and begins to squeeze my chest. My neck goes limp. I watch the book bounce off the table. I fall out of my chair, and my side slams against the hardwood floor.

------------

I am floating in a sea of grey. Without any cause, I feel an incredible, overwhelming guilt.

Is this my day of judgment?

Yet other emotions surface in this sea: anger and worry... perhaps even a hint of amusement. Perhaps they belong to the god who is about to judge me. Perhaps at this very moment, that god is sifting through my mortal past; observing, with cynicism, the manifestations of my mortal flaws.

I feel a faint pressure on my eyelids. Gravity returns, and a chair solidifies beneath me. The sea of grey begins to coalesce into a pair of silver, glowing irises. My entire body feels sore.

I feel a cool piece of glass push against my lips. Two fingers pinch my nose shut.

"Drink this," a voice commands.

The glass tilts against my lips. A liquid pours into my mouth, and I swallow it.

I gasp. The air is the purest I have ever breathed. The pain vanishes.

The formless fog around the glowing irises coalesces into the face of a middle-aged man. His nose and cheeks are bony. His dark, oily grey hair is pulled back tightly, revealing a receding hairline. Surrounding his face is the hood of a red robe with gold trim. His red robe is fastened across his shoulders with a light-grey cloth.

The man's fingers lift from my eyelids. The silver light in his irises fade, and I feel guilty no more.

Kenneth is leaning over him, a glass bottle filled with red liquid in his hand. There is a tired, angry look in Kenneth's eyes.

"How long have I been unconscious?" I ask Kenneth.

"A day," he responds.

My memories leading up to my unconsciousness are few. All I can remember is struggling to recite a boring spell.

Then a revelation springs to mind. I remember a single, tantalizing word:

Lift.

The bottle flies out of Kenneth's hand. Shattered glass echoes.

"Notch smite it, Iris!" Kenneth snaps. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

The meanings of his words twist in my mind, contradicting each other, stuffing my mind until they push painfully against the walls of my head... against the spine of my back... my arms... my legs... everywhere. I am completely and utterly paralyzed by the pain.

I feel fingers grasp onto my arms as the world starts to tilt.

"Bring me the spellbook and a mana potion," the red-hooded man commands, "and another healing potion, for Notch's sake."

"Yes, master," says Kenneth. He walks away.

The hooded man pats my cheek and holds my head upright. "Iris, I need you to stay awake." There is a reassuring calmness in his voice. "Do you understand what I am telling you? Nod if you understand."

I nod.

"Good. Now, listen to me carefully: Kenneth is going to bring you the spellbook that you just used to recite the levitation spell. You are to recite the spell, directly from the textbook, from the exact word that I specify, up until the end. Failure to do so properly could lead to your death."

"What did I do wrong?" I ask weakly. The pain is beginning to make me feel nauseous.

"You did not recite the spell directly from the spellbook like you were supposed to, which bypassed the limit on the amount of mana that could be drawn from the spell. Because you do not have sufficient control of your own mana pool, you cannot stop the spell on your own," he explains.

"Iris forgot the third rule? Again? You have got to be kidding me," says Kenneth.

"Enough peanut talk. Hand me the healing potion, quickly!" orders the hooded man.

The world is dark again. I feel a glass surface push against my lips again, and bitter liquid fills my mouth. I force my tongue against the back of my throat... and swallow.

The pain and nausea leave my body. They are replaced by a growing desire in my mind to recite that one, powerful word again; the one word that binds me to the world of magic, but I know will drive me unconscious again if I use it.

"Before you recite the spell," says the hooded man, "I need you to drink just one sip from this potion." He uncorks a bottle filled with purple liquid and hands it to me. "It should give you enough mana to recite the spell, but do not dilly-dally or all the energy will be wasted on your failed spell."

I nod in understanding and take a sip. My nose crinkles compulsively at the potion's terribly bitter and sour taste. I set the bottle down on the floor.

"Start here," the hooded man orders. He sets the book open upon my lap facing me, and rests his bony finger just above the start of a paragraph, "this paragraph after the sentence that ends with 'growth.' Do not recite the word 'growth,'" he insists.

I quickly lock my eyes upon the start of the paragraph and recite it as fast as my mind will let me. In the corner of my vision, I can see Kenneth and the red-hooded man staring intently at me.

Grueling minutes pass. I finally come to the critical note just before the end of the spell:

"[After reading the following paragraph, focus your attention immediately upon the object you wish to levitate.]"

I read the final paragraph. With no designated object to levitate, I focus on the spellbook itself.

Lift.

The book rises out of my hands. I do not want to expend all my energy again, so I let the book float gently back down.

The temptation to recite that powerful word fades from my mind.

I hear the two men sigh in relief.

"Notch..." Kenneth mutters.

"Do you feel anything, Iris?" asks the hooded man.

"Not any more," I say. "I felt a need to levitate things just a moment ago, but after I recited this spell, that feeling went away."

"I figured such," says the hooded man, "but are you sure you don't feel anything else? Something even the slightest unsettling or uncomfortable?"

"I do not think so," I say.

"Good," says the hooded man. "I supposed I'm obliged to introduce myself, then."

The man reaches for my hand and shakes it.

"I am Jacob Miner, an Arch-Mage of void magic and Forthright's master. Should you have any questions regarding magic or your apprenticeship, I am just as available to you as Forthright is."

This, of course, is not saying much, since Kenneth has made a habit of avoiding me whenever possible. Perhaps that is just how apprenticeships work around here.

Jacob Miner's eyes glare knowingly at Kenneth. "And I certainly hope that you bring this girl here on a regular basis from now on, so we can avoid any more... 'surprises.'"

"Master, I assure you, this was just an isolated event!" Kenneth pleads. "But I will do as you say, of course."

"Two times where an apprentice nearly dies in the same month can hardly be considered isolated events. We need to talk about this," says Miner. "Wait here, Iris."

The two magi disappear into a hallway trimmed with molding and filled with picture frames.

I start to notice a tingling sensation on my neck, and wonder whether I should have mentioned this to Miner when he asked me how I was feeling.

The tingling is replaced with a growing pressure around my neck, and before I have the sense to react, I am pinned against my seat, and my throat is sealed shut with the force of a squeezing hand.

An amorphous humanoid figure appears in front of me, holding my throat. Pages of text cling to it and fly around it violently, taking off and landing from the surface of the figure like a swarm of enraged flies.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" bellows the figure.

"Who are you?" I struggle to mouth with my lips. I feel my pulse beating painfully against the walls of my neck.

"I am nobody," the figure proclaims. "You, on the other hand, should be dead. Every facet of your personality should have disintegrated in the void thousands of years ago. Why are you still here? Why do you persist in reliving your broken, useless memories? Why won't you DIE?!" the figure screams.

A smile creeps up my face as I realize I know something the figure does not. I am not the girl I thought myself to be. I am Fristad, reliving this girl's memories. The voice of this figure is in fact the voice of the Book.

"So, I finally found your weakness, didn't I?" I say. "I'm guessing reliving your past self's memories really got under your skin?"

"I had nothing to do with the production of your infantile human memories! You are but a ghost to me."

"Are you so sure about that, Iris?"

"That is not my name!"

The room trembles with the strength of an earthquake. The illusion shatters and is replaced by a horizon of darkness.

A sudden calmness comes over the demeanor of the paper-covered figure. The rumbling quake slows and stops, and the swarming pages settle upon the surface of the figure.

"So, Fristad, you were responsible for reawakening the girls memories..." A deliberate, measured composure has returned to the Book's voice. It is a voice more fearfully familiar, a voice with the intent to control me.

I won't let it.

"Your boldness is not a virtue, Fristad. You have interfered in matters beyond your authority. It sickens me enough that I may have to rid myself of your existence."

"Is returning me to my body a viable option?" I suggest.

"No. I will kill you right here. It will be a slow, torturous process. I will turn the girl's broken memories into a slow-acting poison. For every memory you try to piece together, one of your own memories will be erased, until you finally cease to exist."

"If me repairing the memories is such a problem for you, then why haven't you killed me already?" I question. "Why does my death have to be so slow and elaborate?"

The illusion of the living room snaps back into place. The hand tightens even more painfully around my neck. I can hear myself gurgle as the air is squeezed out.

"Are you sure you want to die NOW, Fristad?" the Book sneers.

My lungs feel shriveled. The pain consumes my mind. My illusionary body begs for me to give in to the Book, to take back my challenge against it, to make this pain stop.

"Of course I don't want to die! I didn't mean it that way!"

I feel the pain lift from my neck. The living room fades to darkness. The remaining sensation of nothingness is a pleasant relief.

"Then you will do as I say and leave the memories of the dead girl alone."

With those words, the figure covered in pages vanishes into the blackness.

------------

The enderman sits at a library table, its long torso laid flat over much of the table's width. Its head is laid sideways such that its blackened eye-holes face me. I am uncertain if the creature's eyes are open, but I am almost certain that it is asleep.

I walk up to the sleeping enderman and push against its shoulder.

"Please wake up," I plead.

The enderman lifts its head sluggishly. "I have hardly slept. Must you wake me?"

"The Book gave an ultimatum," I say. "Either I stop repairing Iris' memories, or it would slowly destroy my own memories."

"She's bluffing," says the enderman. "Keep repairing the memories. If you repeat your previous effort ten thousand-fold, I should be well rested enough to assist you."

"The Book is powerful enough to control me, and she's only getting stronger," I state, growing increasingly annoyed. "I've already been at this for an hour, at least. I am not exactly interested in waiting ten thousand hours for your help. Do you have any idea how long ten thousand hours is?"

"I am well aware and, frankly, I don't care. Sentient beings are all the same: selfish, manipulative parasites. I tolerate you because your cause is just, but nothing I do to help you will benefit me. I've been controlled by others for too long to trust anyone with my sacrifices."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

The enderman sits up. I feel a spark of hope; perhaps he will stay awake.

"Iris was the last person I trusted with my sacrifices," says the enderman. "She was a special case. I thought she would be different because she wasn't a member of my own kind. I was wrong, of course."

"How were you treated by your own kind?" I ask.

"My own kind trapped me in this place so they could exploit me for my knowledge. I wouldn't say I was entirely blameless. My imprisonment was a punishment for a crime I committed long ago. I can't quite remember what it was."

"So they trapped you here forever?"

"That was the intention, yes."

"Sounds rather draconian," I say.

"Depends on the crime," says the enderman. "It's not like it matters. I really should go back to sleep."

The enderman begins to lay down.

"Tell me more," I insist, trying to keep the enderman awake. "I want to help you. We can find a way to both escape."

There is also so much more I want to know about this enderman. What was his world like? What knowledge could be so important that his captors kept him alive? How else did he become so cynical and helpless? And what happened to Iris?

"You couldn't help me even if you tried," the enderman mumbles lazily. "I am imprisoned here forever. You can save yourself, but only if you consult more of Iris' memories."

"I'm not touching those things," I say. "I heard what the Book said."

"Your loss."

"I'm going to find another way," I insist, "and if I don't, I'm going to wake you up again."

"I will be as mute as death," says the enderman.

I breathe an annoyed sigh and run into the adjacent library hall, wondering how I would be able to communicate with the outside world.

How was the Book able to communicate telepathically into my mind? I honestly have no idea, but there is another way. Earlier on, the Book communicated with me by writing words between its pages. Perhaps if I write something inside one of the library books, it will appear in the pages of the Book in the outside world.

I scour the hallways for several minutes before finding a lone flint pen upon a table, and grab a book in the best condition I can find.

I sit down at the table, open the book to the buffer page, and bring the flint to the paper:

------------

If you are reading this, please help me. My name is Fristad Heltz and I have been trapped inside of this Book. Please let me know what is going on out there. If you know what happened to Jonas, tell me if he is alright. You may be able to reach me by writing on the pages of this Book.

------------

As I finish writing the message, I notice that the first words I wrote are gradually fading away. The flint pen in my hand is likewise disappearing from the upper end down. Eventually the words on the page fade away, and the pen in my hand turns to air.

At least it did something. I just hope that the message reaches the outside world.

I stare at the blank page of the book with uncertain hope.