I parted ways with my new friend, the sphinx Ribathrum, not before assuring him that if I ever needed a loan, I wouldn't hesitate to call upon his services. My conversation with him and the few glasses of magical drink had made me feel a little better than before. I could almost say I was feeling optimistic.
"Believe me, my boy," he assured me, "within you lies the spirit of a great mage! I have a well-trained nose and can sense right away what hides within each man. You just have to bring the mage inside you into the light!"
In the first two rooms of the library, I found nothing useful. I entered the third room — the largest one. Thousands of books were scattered everywhere, filling the towering shelves up to the ceiling and piling up in chaotic stacks on the floor.
Among them, on a massive mahogany table, rested a leather-bound encyclopedia with beautiful illustrations of magical beings. In the farthest corner of the hall, on a massive oak shelf, stood several of the library's most precious and mysterious books. The first one that caught my attention was The Book of Thoth. It was bound in black leather, with golden hieroglyphs engraved on the cover, faintly glowing in the dim light. From what I remembered, it was said that this book contained all the secrets of magic and the universe, written by the Egyptian god Thoth himself. Worn by time, the book's cover had cracked, and the golden symbols were barely distinguishable. Next to it, on another glass shelf, rested the Emerald Tablet. It was a famous alchemical text attributed to Hermes Trismegistus, said to reveal the secrets of metal transmutation and the elixir of life.
With a faint spark of hope, I approached the encyclopedia to look for more details about the Opposite World, the place I came from. I was fully aware that I couldn't perform any spell on my own, but if I found a way back, I could ask a real mage to help me. If the people at the Academy wanted to get rid of me by any means possible, then they wouldn't mind sending me back to my own world. I just had to find the right spell.
But my hopes didn't last long. I impatiently turned the pages of the encyclopedia until I found the article concerning the Opposite World, also called orbis alius in ancient texts. It occupied no more than a quarter of a column and was extremely sparse in information.
The encyclopedia mentioned that the Opposite World was geographically almost identical to the magical world I was now in. Historically, however, the two worlds had evolved differently, except for the ancient period, where many similarities existed. Several important mages suggested that one of the worlds had been created as a copy of the other, but it wasn't clear which had existed first.
I found that the rest of the article contained only a brief description of the Opposite World, lacking any important detail that might have helped me. But the worst disappointment came when I reached the final lines:
"There are currently no spells or methods that allow passage to the Opposite World or vice versa. From the ancient period, only partial works of Critias have been preserved, but the spells he describes are incomplete and unusable. From the works of Hemocrates, only small quotes in other contemporary writings have survived. There are no credible testimonies of mages having recently visited this world."
The encyclopedia's claims left me completely perplexed. If the spells for crossing between worlds had been lost, how had I ended up here? There was a mystery in my past I could not unravel.
With a dry sound, I closed the encyclopedia and continued wandering through the vast room. On the floor, leaning against a column, I noticed a painting. I approached and, carefully looking through the thick layer of dust, I tried to figure out what it depicted. The scene showed an ancient city under attack by enemy troops. As far as I could tell, the city had been built on the shores of a bay. On the left, a multitude of oared ships had reached the city's marble docks. From them poured groups of well-armed soldiers. A true massacre was taking place on the ruined half of a bridge that once connected the two shores of the bay.
Using my sleeve, I gently wiped away the dust to see the whole scene more clearly. The right side of the canvas was dominated by a huge, decapitated statue of an ancient hero, looming ominously against the smoke-filled backdrop of the city. In its left hand, the statue held a round shield, but its right arm was missing. The shattered head of the statue had fallen not far from its pedestal, among the corpses on the docks. In the foreground, another scene of horror unfolded: a beautiful woman in a white dress was trying to throw herself into the water but had been caught by her garment by a warrior.
Sighing, I shook the dust off my sleeve. The painting was a work of art and would surely have been worth a fortune if I could ever sell it. It would have easily covered my tuition fees for several years. I couldn't understand why it was left to gather dust, forgotten in the library.
I stood up, preparing to explore the rest of the hall. I knew it was pointless, but a trace of curiosity pushed me to discover more about this forgotten place. As I walked through the room, I noticed various dusty magical artifacts, old manuscripts, and fragile scrolls, all seeming to wait for someone to rediscover them.
I stumbled over a heap of books carelessly thrown on the floor. I fell flat on my face, landing across several volumes. I lay there for quite a while, not feeling any need to get up. Nothing hurt, but I felt completely drained and stripped of any hope. What was the point in standing up if there was nothing left for me to do?
Tomorrow, I thought, everything would be over. I could already picture how things would unfold the next day. First, I would fail miserably amidst the laughter and jeers of everyone at the Academy. Then, while being dragged away in chains with my memories erased, I saw myself forced to perform the lowliest tasks reserved for a slave. That was the future waiting for me.
I glanced at the title of the book resting under my nose. It had an ugly gray cover and just a few pages, looking more like a student's notebook. Treatise on Encapsulated Magic, the title read in small letters, authored by some obscure mage named Vabazon. I opened the book without much curiosity and began to read.
"Encapsulated magic is a simple and, at the same time, safe method of accessing high-level spells without requiring the practitioner to possess advanced magical knowledge or abilities," the book began.
Nicely put, I thought. It sounded exactly like a sales brochure for a self-help course. But what if you weren't a mage? I skipped over the first few paragraphs and glanced down toward the bottom of the page.
"Encapsulated spells are so simple to use that, theoretically speaking, they could even be performed by a non-mage..." the book said.
Had I read that correctly? Spells performed by a non-mage? I rubbed my eyes and reread the paragraph.
Yes, that was exactly what it said: spells performed by a non-mage.