I stared in shock at the man while a clattering of books landed on and around me from the collision. His face was just a foot away from mine and sported a wide grin. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment; not only had I reacted like a startled cat, but I had also been caught snooping around. I began to stammer an apology but there was something about his proximity that caused my words to get caught in my throat. Before I could compose myself he spoke,

"Well, Mal, that was nice timing."

Timing? What the hell is he talking about, and how did I not hear him enter the room?

Some part of my brain itched at the unanswered question from earlier regarding how this man, supposedly Felix de Vere, author of the “The Chronicles of the Magi Claeffen”, had known my name in the first place.

As my mind raced to puzzle itself back together he reached out slowly towards my face in a way that seemed like time itself had thickened, becoming viscous and slowing the world around me. I instinctively tried to dodge his hand but I found myself totally unable to move as his index finger touched the tip of my nose with a playful, “Boop.”

Then the world went rainbow.

In one instant the world around me melted like it was made of crayons under nuclear heat. It all blended together around me in a swirling psychedelic panopticon before it was blasted away behind me.

I was overwhelmed with forward momentum and watched colors I didn’t even know could exist blur into peripheral nothingness. There was a surreal quality to it though, like a dream of falling into the visual cacophony of a neon hyperspace.

I could feel my arms flailing around but in that moment of recognition I realized that I couldn’t see my own body, it had melted into the colorful chaos cornucopia as well. Where the sudden movement had filled me with adrenaline, the inability to see my own body sent me into a sheer total panic. Almost as if to illustrate my violent new anxiety, the experience took on an oppressive quality as undulating waves of malignant force began to ripple through this incomprehensible space. I heard the voice from before, my mind struggling to perform the simple task of associating sound to form in it’s current inundation.

"Calm down.” The voice called out reassuringly.

It was good advice but for the fact that whatever was happening left me barely capable of comprehending the words being spoken.

“You’re like a child thrashing in a pool.”

Some small part of me felt antagonized but still wasn’t cognizant enough to respond.

“You are making those waves you’re choking on, Mal. Calm yourself!" This time the voice spoke authoritatively and the words brought a sudden clarity and the sinister deluge lessened as I began thinking of.. Kittens?

With thoughts of soft little kittens I suddenly felt like I was being cuddled and my body reverberated with the warmth of rhythmic purring.

Then the forward momentum stopped and I was floating in a kaleidoscopic maelstrom, with the impression of kittens, of all things, purring and nuzzling…

I’m dreaming, this has to be a dream.

Had I even gone to a book signing?

Was I lucid dreaming or something?

These questions brought my awareness to the fact that I could in fact think again.

This now pleasant, if disturbing, experience continued a while longer when again my senses were accosted with new sensations. I heard the echoes of some kind of whining noise far to my left and I turned to see the colors slowly changing. It was as if they were un-melting, solidifying from a structureless disordered mass into a form that actually made sense to my brain.

I watched as hundreds of shades fused and became the prominent colors that I knew. I leaned forward to get a better look as curiosity had taken hold of me and I reached out to touch it.

Then a rush of vibration struck me with force,

"Mal stop!"

The abrupt voice continued, this time not seeming like it was directed towards me,

"I shouldn't have tried to see if he could stay awake this long."

I barely heard the words as they drifted to my ears, half caught whispers on an endless sea. Then, the colors stopped swimming, moving, altogether.

Color ceased existing entirely and I was left adrift in a dead calm, a dark silent vastness, and in the void I heard the steady thump of.. A heart, no.. my heart, beating.

I opened my eyes to a carved wooden ceiling.

My mind felt like leftover pudding. There was a slight dull throbbing in my left temple that wasn't quite a headache but definitely wasn’t comfortable either. I could still feel the residual vibration of purring kittens echoing through my bones.

Wait, this isn’t my ceiling!

Then, it wasn’t a dream?

I’d been booped on the nose and sent.. Somewhere. With that thought I took in my surroundings.

I was lying on a large bed made of a deep blue azurite-like mineral that was covered in relief carvings along its ornate gold capped posts. Thankfully I found myself clothed on top of soft white linens and wearing the same outfit I’d had on earlier.

The wood carvings above were exquisitely detailed. They looked familiar but I couldn't quite place them, though I was sure I had seen them somewhere before.

That’s when it clicked. I knew this place.

It looked familiar because I’d imagined it a hundred times before as I read about Claeffen’s journeys. Journeys that always ended with his inevitable return to Ginnungrún, the Unseen Monolith.

With that realization I sat up and found myself looking into the luminous pearlescent eyes of Claeffen, Mage of the Distant Seasons. The Lord of the Monolith himself, was before me, and we were in his bedchamber. Both were exactly as they’d been described in the books.

He looked to be in his early fifties but had a vitality that made him seem like he was in his prime, with silver hair that fell just below his shoulders. Framing an attractive face was a well trimmed beard and mustache. He was sitting in a finely made chair and wore a sapphire chiton trimmed with white thread. Underneath the fabric covering was extravagant gold armor; breastplate, vambraces, and greaves, which contrasted his feet wrapped in thick shimmering scale strap sandals.

"Hello, Mal.” He said with a smile, his voice deep and pleasant.

I stared at him with my jaw hanging loose.

“Holy shit! It’s really you!”

His smile widened ever so slightly as he nodded at my exclamation.

I couldn’t contain my excitement and squeaked like a startled asthmatic mouse. It was pretty embarrassing but I was amped up enough to not care. This was a dream come true.

"You're real! I knew it was all real! I mean, I questioned it. I questioned it a lot. I had some.. rough days..” I trailed off as I realized I was rambling.

“Yes, I am quite real. How are you feeling, Mal?”

“Uh.. like a bunch of cats are living in my skin.” I replied as I itched absentmindedly at the purring that I still strangely felt.

He quirked an eyebrow but his smile didn’t fade,

“Well, that’s to be expected I suppose. I really should have told him to not let you stay awake during the crossing.”

“Crossing? You mean…”

“Yes, that’s right. Welcome to my home.”

He gestured broadly, his hands adorned with precious looking rings.

“This - … I mean.. I’m… and you..” I couldn’t find words to express how I felt as I babbled incoherently, and then felt anxious that I could be blowing my first impression on the man.

“Relax, I know. It’s a lot to take in. You’ll need some time to process, especially after a first crossing like that. I’ll have food brought up and then later we can have a proper talk, alright?”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding. With a nod in return Claeffen stood up and left the room through the stripe-grained wooden door which opened silently on well oiled hinges. Then I just sat there and experienced what could only be described as an excitement fueled mental breakdown.

I just met Claeffen!! I just met an actual mage! Wait, am I awake?

I began pinching myself. That’s what people do, right? It hurt and I realized I’d never actually pinched myself in a dream, how would I even know if it worked, or that pinching yourself wouldn’t hurt in a dream too?

I decided it didn't matter if this was a dream because this was fucking awesome!

My face ached and I realized I was smiling uncontrollably.

I am in a castle on a different planet in the bedroom of a mage!

No, not just any castle, Ginnungrún! And not just any mage but the mage. I took a moment to think back on how I ended up here.

Printed in the back of the first book of “The Chronicles of the Magi Claeffen” was something that didn’t fit with the rest of the book:

Help Wanted: Book Enthusiast.

Below which was a complex symbol of some sort in the style of the sigils hidden in the margins of the book. Most people thought it was a gag by the author Felix de Vere or maybe a clue to the content of upcoming books. However as more entries in the series came out it became just another unanswered riddle for the fanbase to speculate over but when I’d read that line something had called to me. I thought it was my imagination at first but I had this persistent itch in my head like you get when you know you’ve forgotten something but just can’t remember what.

I spent weeks with that feeling so much that I couldn’t focus at work. That kind of distraction wasn’t ideal in the best of circumstances but was flat out dangerous given my job often required me to climb hundred-plus meters tall wind turbines.

Eventually I discovered a pattern in the books and the help wanted ad and symbol in the back of the book were the keys. It was subtle, easy to miss, but it was there. The books were ciphered and each one held a different riddle. It took me over a year to crack the code but when I did it changed my life forever. The answer, ironically, was in the very first words written in the original book,

My name is Claeffen. I have lived for longer than most Gods, and I am here to tell you that magic is real.

Right there, at the very start, what had seemed like an unimaginative introduction at first glance, was the revelation I had sought, hidden in plain sight in the most cliché way imaginable.

Magic. Is. Real.

That was the lens through which one had to read the books to decipher their secrets. These were not fictional stories, they were autobiographies written by an immortal wielder of magic. After I realized that it became obvious that there was another secret to be discovered within the pages. These weren’t just autobiographical writings by an immortal mage, they were instruction manuals. Well, kind of, they didn’t lay out directions step by step but rather my deciphered interpretation of them gave me glimpses of a pattern that I believed I could follow.

So I spent another year teaching myself magic, or rather, failing to teach myself magic. There was nothing, no little successes or twinges of magical power, absolutely no proof that I was doing anything more than indulging a misguided fan’s obsessions. There were countless times I thought I was just reading too much into it, after all; I was going off a vague hint, buried within a secret, that was all based on a mental itch that could have just as easily been my wanting to see something that wasn’t there.

However, despite my failure I kept at it. Maybe it was the sunk cost fallacy at work, after all I’d already been at this for two years, what was another week, another month, another year. Thankfully I wasn’t in a relationship or my partner would have certainly left me, or had me institutionalized.

Then, one night after another year and a half of trying and failing to use magic I made a plate float off of my kitchen table. It was such a shock that I couldn’t even figure out what I had done differently to make it happen. There it was, floating in front of me, until it wasn’t, somehow I’d lost it and the plate fell and shattered on the floor. I puzzled at those pieces for three days straight attempting to replicate the event before I got an alert that Felix de Vere would be making his first, and only, public appearance.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I wiped tears of joy from my eyes.

Would I even be here if I hadn’t made that plate float last week?

It didn’t matter. I was here now and all that time I had spent alone in my apartment following the half-glimpsed ghost of a guide to making magic happen was worth it.

Just look at this room!

I’d spent years imagining exactly how this room would look. Not just from my constant re-reading of the books but also because I’d had this fantasy that one day I would be powerful enough to find this place on my own and thank Claeffen for being my teacher in absentia. It was uncanny how closely it resembled the image in my mind, but my mind hadn’t done it justice, not even close. The room around me was magical, not just exceptional, but otherworldly. I let out an involuntary chuckle,

“No shit!”

Then I remembered what the books had said about this room. Book three had described the walls of Claeffen’s bedchambers as being carved by the Zwelvse and supposedly detailed his acquisition of Heruka’s Inward Eye, an artifact ripped straight from the head of an ancient and oppressive Zwelvsezi god. I got out of the bed and, sure enough, inlaid in the dark brown wood of the walls were carved blue panels depicting what I’d read only briefly described in gruesome, and incredible detail.

The panels spanned the entire perimeter of the spacious room which was occupied in the very center by the bed I’d just been in. Standing in front of the final panel, which was arranged in the back of the room so that you could see it behind the bed from the entrance, my mouth fell open. It was almost impossible to believe this was carved by a person, or people, though supposedly Zwelvse wood-eaters literally ate the designs into the native blue wood of their homeland, so they were obviously in a class of their own.

The image that had been eaten into this final panel showed Claeffen from the front facing the viewer and kneeled facing him, well, as much as a multi-limbed eldritch monstrosity could kneel, was Heruka. Claeffen’s arm was elbow deep in the creature’s face and though you couldn’t see it from the angle at which it was carved somehow the artist had managed to evoke the imagery in my mind.

I inspected the blue wood panel before me more closely. It had a subtle grain that could be seen through the lacquer and polish and despite not having any paint the depth and details contrasted in such a way that the scene was vivid and dynamic. Never in my life had I thought the Zwelvse were real. I’d thought “Zwelvse'' was a silly rewording for “Elves” but as I looked around at what they’d crafted for their savior I was convinced that it wasn’t.

So did the mythology of Elves actually come from the Zwelvse?

I wondered idly. The confirmation of the story expressed in the murals all around the room was cathartic but actually seeing the story was even better. The books had never said what the story was, only that his room displayed it in carvings. Now, here I was, looking at it in all its incredible, if somewhat violent, splendor.

"Excus-”

I spun at the unexpected noise from behind me and screamed involuntarily as I caught sight of a creature standing just a few feet away from me. It had the head of a wasp and was wearing a butler’s uniform.

“Aghhh!” I recoiled at the sight of the.. thing, but when it didn’t move to devour my face I calmed down, if only a little bit. I felt like a deer in headlights as its weirdly huge bug eyes started me down.

The well dressed wasp person appeared to be unfazed by my reaction as he quirked his head quizzically before speaking again,

“Sir I-”

Despite his non-aggressive demeanor the sight of words coming out of his big freaky mandibles creeped me out and I started screaming again,

“Whaaaat the fuuuck?!”

I had my hand against my heart as it felt like it was going to beat itself right out of my chest.

“Sir, please calm down. I am here to deliver your meal.” its mandibles clacked again in a curt, professional tone.

I stared at it, my primate brain was telling me to squish the thing, or run, or both. However, reason prevailed, if only because I was in an alien mage’s castle and this wasp guy was wearing a butler’s outfit, which was a little funny.

“Rightttt, of course. Sorry, you just, uh.. uhh.. startled me.”

I felt a bit of warmth rising to my cheeks. This was the second time someone had snuck up on me today.

I should probably pay more attention to my surroundings if I’m going to be traipsing around in alien environments.

The smell of food hit me then as I noticed he was holding a serving tray covered with a reflective silver cloche to keep it warm. In response my stomach growled loudly for an awkwardly long time. When was the last time I’d had anything to eat?

“Um.. I don’t suppose you have any idea how long I was out for?”

The butler nodded,

“Two days, sir.”

“Two days?!”

He didn’t bother repeating himself and just stared at me silently. The longest I’d ever slept at once was fifteen hours and that had been after a particularly grueling series of overtime shifts at work. Two days seemed preposterous.

“Yes.. I’ve brought your meal at Lord Claeffen’s request, a favorite of his when he visits, I believe. I shall leave it on the table."

Having said what was required the butler performed a quick bow, turned on his heels, and made his way to the table in the corner of the room. He deposited his charge carefully next to a rounded glass filled with what looked like water and then departed without ceremony. Still in shock I made my way over to the gold upholstered high back chair and dark wood table where the tray of food sat and wiped a bit of drool from the corner of my mouth. It smelled amazing, in fact..

It smells like.. Indian food?

I lifted the cover and I jolted back in surprise. Sitting in a porcelain soup bowl with flat edges was a liquid that looked like thick bubbling black tar. Sticking out of the liquid were bits of bright red chunks of some kind. I sat down on the thin cushion of the deceptively comfortable chair and inspected the dish. The red chunks looked to be some kind of meat and on closer inspection the.. sauce? Wasn’t black like it seemed from a distance but rather a dark green covered in darker specks. It didn’t look very appetizing but it smelled delicious. Sticking my nose right up to the surface of the meal and taking a deep whiff I realized that it did smell like Indian food.

It didn’t look like any curry I’d ever had, that was for sure, but my stomach let me know just how unhappy it was with my neglect of it. I decided it was best to just eat before my stomach’s complaints got any more aggressive. With a hesitant hand I dipped the shiny spoon that had been wrapped in a napkin next to the platter into the thick, almost sticky, dark liquid. Heaving the loaded utensil out of the bowl I postponed as long as I could by letting the excess sauce drip off the spoon before my hunger drove me to try something new against my will. Pushing the tip of the spoon to my lips I stuck out the tip of my tongue, squeezed my eyes a bit, and took a taste.

“Oh shit!” I cried out in pleasant surprise, it was good! Actually, it tasted even better than it smelled. Savory, sweet, and creamy all with a perfect combination of spices. The flavor was familiar, almost like.. Chicken Tikka Masala? The first bite was so delicious that before I knew it I was eating like a starving man and within a few short minutes I had picked up the bowl and was licking it like someone who’d never been taught table manners. After stuffing myself I took a few sips from the glass which turned out to contain a clear sweet wine that paired perfectly with the food. I sat back and held my distended stomach like a sleeping baby, full and happy. Having sated my sleep induced starvation I felt a different kind of hunger rear its head so I let my curiosity loose and looked around the room some more.

Looking slightly to my left I examined the fireplace. It was made of heavy stone blocks that fit so perfectly together I could only barely see the seams between them. Fashioned above the fireplace was a crest. I recognized it instantly as the mark I had seen inside the umbrella stand before I’d been booped into a new dimension; it was Claeffen's personal crest and seal. That’s when it hit me that I was actually sitting in his chair, at his table, and eating his food. It felt surreal, and I sat with that feeling for a bit as I let my mind catch up to everything that was happening.

Eventually I got bored of processing and my eyes were attracted to all the various things to look at in the room and I still couldn't believe exactly how well the books had captured its details.

On the mantle there were various trinkets and treasures from Claeffen’s adventures but my eyes kept being drawn to the crest. I felt that same itch that had started this whole series of events all those years ago alongside a question that began to form on the tip of my brain. What was I missing?

Wait, the library!

That’s right, the library in the back of the bookstore resembled the cover art of the books, I hadn’t noticed at the time but now that I thought about it I couldn’t unsee it. Every single cover of the Claeffen books had two things in common: First, they always had a bunch of little out of place inconsistencies, things that shouldn’t be where they were or didn’t make sense. Like, on the cover of book four, which depicted the cavernous subterranean forest of “Treasure Below Akshé”, there was a labrador retriever peeking out from behind one of the megaliths that are so common in that place. The second thing to be found on every cover of the series was the appearance of Claeffen’s crest. In fact, it was something of a game with fans to time how quickly they could spot Claeffen’s personal sigil when a new book was released, like a virginal version of “Where's Waldo?”.

Sometimes the way it was hidden took elaborate steps to uncover, as well. In book ten, for example, the crest had been obfuscated in separate parts that only came together with the precise application of origami on the cover. Given the significance of Claeffen’s crest as an implement and extension of his domain it begged the question,

Why was Claeffen’s crest in the back room of a bookstore?

Obviously if I hadn’t wound up here the answer would probably be that the owner of the store was a fan. However, given my current situation, could it be that the bookstore was actually a crossing zone? Supposedly “crossings”, journeys between time, space, and even dimensions, were made easier at nexus points where ley lines formed natural magical structures in the form of sigildry. While they formed naturally it was rare, and given the size of the multiverse they were unlikely to be where you wanted them to be, so supposedly, powerful mages could “re-string” the ley lines and artificially create these crossing zones.

What ley lines were in the context of the books was never explained, however, and they didn’t seem to sync up with the usual definition. Thinking about the implication that there was a man-made crossing zone on earth brought my excitement to investigate the room back with vigor so I got up and started looking around again.

Next to the door was a statue I hadn’t noticed before and I recognized it immediately; this statue was a dead ringer for the statue Claeffen had described as he told the story of his ascent into magehood. According to his account he had found it during his travels in his youth before he had learned magic and discovered it to be a relic from some long forgotten war.

It came from an extinct civilization who had seeded his birth planet with life millions of years ago. It was this very piece of memorabilia that had inspired him to start on his path as a mage, and the elaborately carved statue looked almost exactly as I had imagined it would. It was about as tall as I was, and was made of a smooth, slightly porous material resembling onyx. With an elegant upward helical spiral the statue looked like an alien tower, with small window-like openings that seemed to draw one in. It was like it was inviting you to glimpse something no one else had ever seen before. It was gorgeous, which made me wonder how I’d missed seeing it until now.

The books had never said what Claeffen had done with the statue or how it had catalyzed his transition to being a mage, only that it had impacted him somehow. It was mainly an account of his emotional experience with scant few details on the nature of the statue itself or what happened after he had found it. I had always wondered if it was some kind of repository of wisdom that had filled him with spontaneous knowledge or visions, to have overwhelmed him with such raw emotions.

Maybe it’s like a genie’s lamp?

I wanted to touch it. Unsure of what would happen if I did and feeling that it would be wrong to intrude in someone’s home and touch their priceless ancient artifacts, I decided against it.

Probably best not to touch anything in here without permission, who knows what could happen.

Some of the trinkets in the room, especially those lined in the display cases on the opposite wall from the dining table, were things that had been described as having powerful, destructive, enchantments.

Besides, maybe the reason he hadn’t described the exact details of his experience with the statue was because something horrible happened that messed him up so badly he had to become a mage just to fix it.

I really didn't want to find that out the hard way, so I contented myself with looking at things I never thought I’d actually be able to see in person outside of my imagination.

Strolling around the room I made my way over to the door. Its frame had elaborate runes carved all along its length and I wondered if they served as some kind of magical implement or had a linguistic meaning behind them.

On my second pass of the room as I was looking over the furniture, I noticed something different about the wood which I’d thought was mahogany. I had taken it for granted at first glance but just beneath its surface it shimmered and glowed ever so slightly. The glow was subtle, not the kind that illuminated its surroundings but rather as if it was being lit up from the inside. Putting my face close to its surface to better leverage my above average near-sight, I could see there was a faint fluidic sparkle between the individual grains of wood. The more I looked, though, the harder it was for me to see and my vision started distorting slightly, almost like my mind couldn't wrap itself around what I was looking at. I stopped this experiment once I started feeling the pressure in my head from earlier begin to build rather than subside. I couldn’t afford a full blown curiosity induced migraine right now, so I went to inspect something else.

That’s when I noticed a tall mirror topped dresser.

How did I miss this?

There was obviously some magical fuckery going on, first the statue and now a dresser?

Inspecting the offending furniture the dresser loomed large at about five and a half feet tall with a mirror on the back that rose another two feet to form an arch. There were runes all around the mirror as well, similar to those on the door frame, however the dresser was also adorned with tiny dancing birds and flowering vines coiling around its rounded frame like a neverending knotwork that repeated around the whole mirror casing.

Then I noticed on the peak of the arch was a unique symbol to which all of the designs seemed to flow. Without thinking, and despite my earlier commitment to not mess with things I didn’t understand, I reached out to touch it. However as I did so I lost my balance and stumbled forward and thinking I was about to introduce my body to a bunch of broken glass I braced myself for the impact but found myself falling instead.

Opening my eyes I saw a ground quickly approaching and I landed belly first on damp grass with a heavy organ shaking thud. I groaned in pain and rolled onto my back. You’d think with everything that’s happened to me so far I wouldn’t be surprised anymore but, but I was. Mainly I was surprised to be looking up at a pale viridian sky with fluffy white clouds, I’d just been in a windowless room a few seconds ago, after all. I mean, I had expected that maybe I would find a hidden passageway or two since I was in an alien mage’s space castle but looking around I didn’t see any castle or castle-like establishments.

No, I now seemed to be inside a hedge maze with twenty foot tall hedges that looked as if cherry blossoms resemble boxwood shrubs instead of trees. I was surrounded on my back and sides with the impenetrable foliage, the only path seemed to be forward, extending about sixty feet with several openings on either side. The place looked pretty enough, so maybe it was safe.

However, given that I’d just fallen through a mage’s dresser portal I didn’t want to.. Ahem, hedge, my bets either way.

Looking up and around I tried to find where I’d come from, maybe I could climb the shrubs back through the portal or something.

You just had to touch something, didn’t you?

I looked behind me and tried sticking my arm through the shrub, just in case it was an instance of different planes having their own relative “down” or something, maybe I could just walk back out.

All I managed was to shove my arm into the prickly shrub, earning myself a few scratches in the process.

Did I really just get myself stuck? Things were going great and I’ve already ruined it. Mal you stupid, stupid idiot.

I began debating whether I should stay put or try to find a way out by going forward on the tiled path ahead. The tiles were a patterned polished stone not unlike marble and I could tell they were slippery.

Seems impractical, what if it rains? It does look cool though.

Before I could decide what to do I felt something grab me by the back of my shirt and I was hoisted straight up through the air like a rag doll. Then I heard Claeffen’s voice in my head, as if he’d taken over my inner monologue;

“I don’t think you’re ready for this place quite yet.”

In my ascent I glimpsed just over the top of the maze and saw that it extended to the horizon as far as the eye could see, in every direction. The rush of air as I was pulled through the portal back to the castle felt cold against the nervous sweat that had spontaneously formed on my brow.

Then, everything went black.