Stephen watched, dumbfounded, as the so-called 'Court Mage' was slowly suffocated by a bookshelf. For the first time in his life, Stephen thought he must have been dreaming.

“C-can you...sit on the bookshelf?” Gasped the Court Mage.

Stephen blinked absently, “Are you crazy?”

“There's not enough pressure,” The Court Mage said between struggled breaths.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m curious.”

“About what, torture methods? I’m supposed to be taught by a magician, not the king’s executioner,” Stephen pinched himself, was he dreaming?

“Call it your first lesson,” The Court Mage’s eyes were bloodshot.

“Did you lose your hearing?”

“Do it!”

Stephen had had enough, so in a fit of frustration, he jumped onto the bookshelf.

There was an audible CRACK, but the bookshelf looked fine.

**

A few minutes later, the Court Mage was clutching his chest. His face was tense with pain as he examined his new pupil.

“You have your mother’s eyes,” The magician said, grimacing as he took a breath.

“I don’t want to hear that from you.”

The magician’s face flushed. With pain or embarrassment, Stephen couldn’t tell, “I’m sorry about that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Libido,” Stephen muttered spitefully. He felt guilty about breaking one of the man’s ribs, maybe two, but he couldn’t help thinking it was the magician’s fault.

“Let me introduce myself,” The Court Mage said, ignoring Stephen’s remark, “I am Sebastian Duis Souiprise, Court Magician and Master Arcanist.”

That’s quite the name, Stephen thought to himself as he took a look at his mentor. The man reminded him of a down-on-his-luck college grad who graduated with a liberal arts degree. Like he wanted to be an actor but couldn’t get past his alcoholism. Sebastian was pretty tall, maybe a little over six feet tall, with thick stubble, a sharp Adam's apple, and a lanky body. He was dressed in an orange robe with red and white trim.

If this man was capable of teaching him magic, Stephen decided it would be rude to not give him another chance. Even if he was a weirdo, Sebastian was his best chance at learning magic. If he was lucky, Stephen may even learn a way to return home.

“I am Stephen Cray,” Stephen nodded his head, giving a slight bow before reaching out with his hand, “I hope it's possible to learn lots from you.”

Sebastian grinned and returned the handshake. His grip was firm, his hand a little too warm, “It will be my pleasure.”

Stephen didn’t like how Sebastian emphasized the word ‘pleasure.’

Sebastian took Stephen to the back of the library, to a large open room with an enormous window that stretched across most of the wall. It overlooked sprawling hills dotted with craters and scorched patches of grass.

“This is my study,” Sebastian spread his arms. The window opened outward, on its own, and the room was quickly filled with the early morning summer air, “I practice my magic here, it’s perfect for training.”

“Are those yours?” Stephen pointed to the craters.

“Oh yes,” Sebastian smiled wide, then clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously, “Now, let’s begin with the basics.”

Stephen stood at attention, his heart fluttered with excitement. It had always been a wish of his, for magic to be real. It was probably something everyone wanted. Now, here he was, in another world where he was about to be taught!

If he could just learn enough to return home, Stephen thought, maybe he could keep my powers. Some people claimed to know magic, after all, like fortune-tellers, paranormal investigators, probably several celebrities… Maybe some of them weren’t lying?

“There is only one rule for using magic,” Sebastian said tantalizingly, holding up a finger, “There are no rules.”

Stephen’s excitement peaked, “What?”

“Well, aside from using too much and your body can’t handle it and explodes… There are no rules!”

“That seems like a rule in itself.”

“Nope!”

“But isn’t that important?”

Sebastian shook his head, “Not really, just don’t use too much.”

“How do I know if I used too much, then?”

“You’ll explode,” Sebastian said, matter-of-fact.

“But before that?” Stephen grumbled.

Sebastian crossed his arms and thought hard for a while, “Okay, there are three rules.”

Stephen sighed, would all of his training be like this?

“One!” Sebastian swung his arm dramatically, a spark escaped his fingertips and took the shape of a glowing neon number one, “If you use too much magic, you’ll probably explode.”

“I’ll probably explode?”

“Two! To use magic, you must believe it will work and exercise your willpower.”

“What does that even mean?”

“And three, your ability to control magic is affected by your innate abilities. Each person’s ability is different, but there are some general categories.”

Sebastian snapped his fingers and a chalkboard rolled to his side, he drew three columns and began listing names, “There are those who use raw magic; Wizards, Sorcerers, and Shamans. Then some can manipulate objects, terrain, or their surroundings; Arcanists (that’s me), Enchanters, and Alchemists. Finally, we have those who utilize their innate pool of magic. This kind is a little more prone to explosions, but it’s much more unique; Diviners, Witches, and Evokers are just some examples.”

Sebastian finished his speech and fixed Stephen with an expectant look, “Is that clear?”

Stephen’s head was swimming, “Uh, sure, thank you. How do I know what kind I am?”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, his face darkened and warped into a kind of predatory glare as his thin lips spread into a sneer, “Just a simple acute, stress-inducing succession of deliberately manipulative provocative measures.”

Stephen nodded, “You’re going to test me.”

“I’m going to try and kill you, so basically, yes.”