#recent chapter

“I- Well, that might be true, but I have plenty of tomes that I study every day.”

“I’m sure you do.” She picks up a glass set on a side table, a dark liquid barely visible over the rim as she takes a sip. “But wouldn’t it be easier for you to start your apprentice off on something they already know? Work from there?”

You looked over at Mr. Goodtimes, whose eyes were narrowed in thought as he processed this line of logic. You were starting to get the feeling that your self-appointed mentor may have embellished his title a little bit. He seems to come to a decision though as he nods, his ears perking up. 

“You have a point, Virgam. Yes, apprentice!” He turns to you and you stand straighter. “Now then, what do you know how to do?”

You think about what it is you know how to do with your magic. Sure, you’ve tried to do plenty of simply, small tricks. Lighting candles without a source or creating little illusions to watch when you couldn’t sleep. You glance over at Virgam, her hand gently swirling the glass as she inspects your every move. Right, you used to work in a bar and there is one thing you managed to become an expert at.

You walk up to her, taking the glass from her hand with nothing but a confused look from Virgam. You then walk over to Mr. Goodtimes, grabbing the bottom of his robe and pouring the dark drink onto the pristine purple fabric, instantly creating a dark spot that quickly begins spreading.

“Apprentice!” He cried, his ears flattened on his head as he gave you a betrayed look. Virgam’s laughter echoed off the walls. “Why did you do that?”

You hold up a hand, telling him to wait. You look down at the stain, moving your hand to hover over it. Light envelops the stain for a few seconds before it fades, leaving the purple in the same state it had been a few seconds ago. You gesture to it with a flourish.

Mr. Goodtimes’ look of betrayal quickly shifted into a blank expression. “Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” He giggled, running his thumb over the clean spot and rubbing the back of his neck. “Is, uh, that all you know how to do?”

You drop the robe, shoulders slumping. You raise your hands, palms up, and conjure up a small illusion of a sheep that runs around across your hands. You look back up at Mr. Goodtimes, his expression clearly telling you that he had expected something a little more.

“Do you… know anything else?” 

You drop your hands and the illusion, thinking if your other small tricks are worth showing. You ultimately decide they aren’t and shrug, shaking your head. 

 “Alright, so you know basic spells, that’s good, I guess. Plenty of room for improvement though!” He squints at you, like he had before when he was deep in thought. “Alright,” he says, “how about we focus on more chore-based spells to begin with?”

“You’re supposed to make them your apprentice, Scar, not your maid.”

Mr. Goodtimes sputtered in offense. “Excuse me, I will not make them my maid! I just think it’ll be easier for them to learn some simple utility spells before we move into, say, shooting giant fireballs or raising the dead.”

“Because you can do that?”

“That’s not important.” Mr. Goodtimes grabs you by the shoulders, beginning to push you out of the shop. “So, how soon can you get a staff made, Virgam?”

You are able to spot Virgam rolling her eyes before Jellie rubs against your legs and past you out the door, causing you to almost trip over your feet. “I’ll have one made in a few hours, don’t you worry. Just be careful out there.”

Mr. Goodtimes pushes you out into the bustling village once again, and you bring your hand up to block the sunlight that reflects off the blue crystal in front of you. Once you’re out the door Mr. Goodtimes lets you go, and you watch as Jellie runs off further into the village. You look at Mr. Goodtimes, wondering if he is worried about that at all but he is just looking out over the village with a wide smile. He looks at you.

“Well, my apprentice, since that is taken care of, why don’t I show you around?” Before you have a chance to respond you are being dragged off once again by your arm. “I was born and raised here in this village, you know. Magic runs deep and strong here, aided by the wonderful crystals you see all around you.”

He guides you up a small hill and gestures downwards at the blue crystal in the middle of the village. You can now see two farms, tabaxis like Mr. Goodtimes and Virgam are working in them as well as moving sparkles that you can only assume are some kind of fairies that zips back and forth across the fields. 

“That crystal there helps irrigate our crops. Rain is rare on this part of the island, and hauling water in from the lake isn’t always safe. So the founders of the village found a way to draw this crystal from the ground! It keeps all the dirt nice and moist. The only downside is that it can get pretty muddy sometimes, but that’s why we have stone paths everywhere, so no big deal.”

He leads you to the edge of the village, and gestures to a large green crystal that is suspended by some sort of structure in the middle of the lake. Light reflects off it, sending brilliant green rays over the already green jungle. The structure around it looks old, and you honestly don’t know how it hasn’t toppled over into the water yet.

"That crystal is really special! It can detect the intent behind magic, and deactivate it if there is any ill will.” He smiles at the shining rock. “It’s kept this village safe for many years now. I don’t want to think about what may have happened without it.”

After a few more moments of staring out over the lake, Mr. Goodtimes turns on his heels and back through the village, leaving you to follow behind. You spend an extra second looking at the crystal, a nagging feeling itching the back of your mind as you do. You manage to shake it away and follow your mentor as he walks up a small hill, between a farm bustling with activity and a small shop packed full of customers. You can faintly smell freshly baked bread, and your stomach growls. You haven’t eaten in a while, with you skipping out on dinner last night and no chance for breakfast this morning, and you’re just now remembering. You almost want to stop and grab some of the delicious smelling bread but you almost lose sight of Mr. Goodtimes while you are distracted and have to rush up the rest of the hill to catch up with him, far past the bakery.

Ahead of you stands a tall tower, it’s shape winding above you in a precarious way that makes you worried it will tip over with a slight breeze. Your mentor is standing in the doorway, beckoning you in. As soon as you do you are caught off guard by the beautiful and intricate decor, the wood carvings in the floor and on the walls absolutely breathtaking. A small round table sits in the middle of the room, with a stove off to the side and a cozy fireplace tucked in the corner. You don’t have time to dawdle, though, as Mr. Goodtimes leads you upstairs.

Lining the walls are tall bookshelves, multicolored spines creating a mesmerizing effect as you try and take in just how many there are. Nestled in between the shelves is a small window and cushion for sitting. You walk over to it, taking in the view. You can see a magnificent tree towering over the rest of the jungle a ways away. You didn’t know trees could even grow that big.

“That’s been there for centuries.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice pipes up as he looks over your shoulder. “No one really knows how it grew, but it’s the oldest thing on the island. People think it’s the source of all the magic but I don’t think that’s true.” 

He backs up, tracing a finger along the spines of a few books before grabbing one and flipping through some pages. He stops on one with an “aha!” before his face falls in annoyance and he closes the book with a pout and puts it back. He turns back to the shelf and grabs another book. This time he flips to the first few pages before flipping further, tapping to a page victoriously.

“Here we are,” he says, “I’ll be right back.” He follows the spiral staircase back down, coming back up a few minutes later, a yellow crystal in hand that he shows off to you. “This is for you, my dear apprentice! It should help amplify your magic until you get better control over it.”

You hold the rock up to your eye, looking through the crystalline substance and at a now distorted Mr. Goodtimes. You smile at him, gesturing a thanks and grasping the crystal tight in your hand.

He opens his mouth again to speak, but is cut off by a loud boom that sends a shockwave through the tower. The sheer wave of energy that has just passed over you leaves you woozy, grasping onto one of the shelves so you don’t topple over. When you’re steady you look up at Scar who is staring out the window with wide eyes. After a few moments he looks back at you.

“That was big.” You give him an unimpressed look. “That was a massive surge of magical energy.” He grabs your arm, pulling you down the stairs, your dizziness momentarily returning at the sudden movement. “Come on, we have to go check it out!”

Something in your gut is telling you that this is a bad idea, but you figure you don’t really have a choice in the matter. As you go through the village now alive with questions of what that was, Mr. Goodtimes leads you back towards the large green crystal. Right before the outskirts of the village, a voice stops you both in your tracks.

“Hey! Scar! Scar’s apprentice!” Virgam’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd and you both look back to see the woodworker holding a staff in her hands. She walks up to you, holding it out. “This is one of my rejects. Since Scar is pretty insistent on dragging you into danger at the first opportunity he was presented with, I figured you’ll need something to defend yourself with.”

You give her a look to be sure, but at her certain stare alongside the knowing glint in her eyes, you grip the staff firmly in your hands. The wood is unsanded and clearly unfinished; it grates against your palms that haven’t gripped anything much rougher than a mug full of beer in the past few years. You can feel the splinters already digging into your hands, but the way the end curls to a messy ball at the top fills the pit of your stomach with excited anticipation. You nod in gratitude to Virgam with a smile. She looks past you to your impatient mentor. 

“And you, be careful. It’s not just yourself you have to worry about now, you know. Their life could very well be in your hands.”

Mr. Goodtimes stands up straighter, hand landing on your shoulder in a firm grip. “Don’t worry, Virgam. I’m sure everything will be fine. We’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

You both wave to the village, and you follow him up a spiral staircase hidden within the trunk of a tree. The smell of sap and damp wood is almost overwhelming, but luckily you’re able to breathe fresh air before long. Mr. Goodtimes leads you out onto suspended bridges above the lake and thicker parts of the jungle, connected by the sturdier looking trees. You look down at the green crystal, blinking away some light that gets reflected into your eye. You stumble forward a bit on the rickety bridge, but Mr. Goodtimes is quick to catch you before you can fall, keeping a steady hand on you until you can confidently wave him off. Silence looms over you both, a thick blanket of something you can’t quite place making your steps feel even heavier than they should be. By the way Mr. Goodtimes’ demeanor has completely changed, you have a feeling that he feels it too.

You grip your staff tighter, ignoring any pinches of pain, and look out under the bridge. You catch a glimpse of purple and black, a stark contrast to the rest of the island around you, but before you get a chance to ask, Mr. Goodtimes has gotten ahead of you and you once again need to hurry to catch up. Soon enough, you exit the bridges as you entered, though a little passageway in the trees and are met with a green pathway in the jungle.

“This way.” Mr. Goodtimes’ voice is certain. “We’ve had these tremors come from this place for a while now, but this one was way bigger than any of the others.”

He pulls away some leaves, revealing a massive trench, the bottom fading behind a fog. In front of you lies a stone bridge that leads to an absolutely monstrous tower. Shining metal towers surround it, and it tapers to a point at the top that you can’t see on the upper levels. It’s overgrown and crumbling and you wonder how much it would take for it to fully cave in, and you have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t take much. Despite this, you can’t help but be in awe.

Mr. Goodtimes walks forward and over the bridge, you hesitate but soon enough follow behind, under the gigantic archways into the halls of the tower. It’s dark, only a few remnants of what you assume are lanterns hung from broken and rusted chains from the far up ceiling. The only light is from the other three open arches and some fading torches that had been placed in what you can only assume to be a few hours ago. 

Mr. Goodtimes lifts his own staff, creating a small ball of light that floats above it and illuminates the area more. He looks at you silently, glancing at the ball with an inquiring look. You catch on, fumbling, glancing at your staff before quickly disregarding the thought that popped up in your mind. You grab one of the smoldering torches and, with a flick of your wrist, relight it. You can see your mentor’s smile clearer in the added light.

You can also see the tall centerpiece, stained glass that looks as if it swirls when you move your light stretched up into the ceiling, framed by more of the same crumbling stone as the main structure. Past the glass into what you assume to be a hollow center is pitch black, and it leaves you with an unsettling feeling and you shift your feet on the uneven wooden planks beneath you.

“Alright,” Mr. Goodtimes starts, “let’s split up. I’ll go left, you go right, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer he heads up the left stairwell.

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