Professor Arraban stepped out of his carriage as he looked around Glennvale, the city he had finally arrived in. He was a man of average height, and rail thin. He wore a pointy, stylish beard and moustache on his narrow face. He placed his tall hat on his head as he gathered his bearings. His long coat flapped behind him in the wind, exposing his fine silk vest and bowtie. The tie was the cutting edge of fashion, though Arraban did not wear it for that reason. Instead, he wore it because the alternative, a cravat, was very large and in the way.
Glennvale had been a fairly small town until recently, when the legendary Archmage Korbos had established a school of philosophy in the city. Of course, people had flocked to learn from him. Following prospective students, other learned men moved to the city as well. Soon enough, it had become the foremost city for learning in the country.
Arraban however, was not seeking new students. He had taught some before, but he was a bit picky about them. Bad students irritated him, mostly because he was more interested in acquiring more knowledge than he was in passing it on. Nor was he looking to study under another professor. Most were terribly arrogant, and many would not accept him anyway, as he was already well studied.
No, Arraban had come for the building he now stood in front of. The public library, the first of its kind. The building had many large pillars out front, as thick around as century old trees. It stood many times taller than Arraban himself, likely thirty or forty feet tall. It was built of a sparkling granite that had been polished to shine in the sunlight.
Smiling broadly at the sight, Arraban stepped slowly up the stairs to the library. He had decided that he would find a place to stay later, for now he could not resist the pull of new information. As he approached, a doorman heaved the massive oak door open. Arraban noted the man's substantial arms and decided the doors really must be as heavy as they looked.
As he walked inside, Arraban found the building lit with light globes, magical constructs that would float wherever they were left. Individually, they weren't terribly expensive, for a magical construct. However, just in his view, Arraban could see hundreds of them. And that was just the beginning of the opulence on display. The floors were a nice grey marble, matching the granite exterior. Pillars supporting the floors above had been crafted of a lovely rose marble, bringing some color to the room. The area around the doors had been left open to to roof, showing two floors above. The woodwork was crafted meticulously out white oak, which helped the light globes — which were only moderately bright — to keep the entire space feeling well lit.
But, even more impressively were the rows upon rows of bookshelves, stuffed with tomes, scrolls, and other curiosities. Arraban could see several wings, each dedicated to a specific subject, denoted by artistically carved lettering in the wood above the door. His eye was caught by a wing that was labeled “Magic Theory”. Arraban almost turned to peruse that section, but decided to leave it for later. He had always been intrigued by magic, though he had little talent in it. That had not stopped him from pouring countless hours into magic theory. However, he did not want to get sucked into it just yet. There were many other secrets to delve first.
As he was looking around, an older gentleman crossed the room towards him. “Welcome to the Glennvale National Library,” the man said in a low voice. “I do not believe I recognize you. Is there anything I can help you with?”
Arraban considered for a moment while observing the man. “I think for now I want to browse with fresh eyes. I thank you for the offer however.”
“As you wish,” the man said, giving a slight bow. “And, may I have our esteemed guests name?”
“I am Arraban,” he said, handing the man his credentials.
“Ahh, a learned professor. If you need additional aid, simply ask at the front desk.” The man indicated an area that had been sectioned off by desks. It was situated to the right side of the main doors, and there were a couple of other older gentlemen there, wearing similar clothing to the man Arraban was talking with. Uniforms, he figured. Making a mental note of the front desk, Arraban wandered further into the library, seeking any bit of research to sink into.
As the hours passed, he browsed along, finding sections on history, botonny, medicine, zoology, and countless other topics. Arraban jolted up from considering the volumes of 'An Annotated History of the First Global Councilum Magicum' as he realized how late in the day it was.
He looked around the library, and realized he was not clear on exactly where in the building he was. Frowning a bit, he made his way to the end of the bookshelf, leaving the volume he had been holding in its place on the shelf. Arraban looked both ways from the end of the bookshelf, but as far as he could see there were only more shelves. Further, he appeared to be entirely alone. And, was it a trick of the lateness in the day, or had the light began to dim?
Now determined to find his way out, Arraban turned right onto the path between shelves, and began walking at a swift pace. He began to curse his own obliviousness as nothing around him appeared to be at all familiar. As his frustration was mounting, he found a staircase going down. Arraban considered for a moment. He was nearly certain he had gone up some stairs at some point, but he could not recall how many floors. Was he only on the second floor, or was it the third?
As he was pondering, a movement to the left caught his eye. Arraban turned. “Hello,” he called in a loud whisper. “Is someone there? I am afraid that I am quite lost. If you know the way out I would certainly appreciate it.”
Arraban walked towards where he had seen the movement, but he found nothing as he arrived. Figuring he had imagined the motion, he returned to the stairs and descended. He knew that he had gone up to at least the second floor, so this should put him closer to the exit.
On the next floor down, Arraban found the library was growing darker still. Beginning to get uncomfortable with his vision level, he snatched a light globe out of the air. This particular variety was only about as large as a closed fist, so it fit in his hand quite easily. Strangely, it did not seem to be giving off the amount of light he expected. While it certainly illuminated the surroundings, the contrast to the shadows seemed to make the darkness even darker.
“Not my problem,” Arraban whispered. “I just need to get out of here.”
As he continued, he saw a book laying open, pages down, on the floor ahead of him. “What sort of ruffians are being allowed in here?” Arraban asked himself. He picked up the book, intending to return it to its shelf. As he did, he caught a glimpse of a diagram of a human body. Intrigued, he took a closer look. As he studied the diagram, he found it was indicating the optimal locations on the human body through which to siphon off human vitality. Sickened, Arraban glanced at the title, 'Vitality: Practical Magical Uses and Methods of Harvesting'
Not wanting anything more to do with the book, Arraban leaned it delicately against the nearest shelf and moved on, his step quickening. Normally he would treat books better than that, but that seemed a particularly dark subject, and Arraban found himself not caring if the book ended up destroyed. From his understanding, vitality harvesting was a brutal shortcut on the path to attaining magical power. As someone who very much desired to grasp magic himself, Arraban found those who resorted to these sorts of methods particularly reprehensible.
That aside, Arraban was beginning to feel uneasy. He had been wandering for a while, with no end to the shelves in sight. He did not recall the library being this large. And, the fact that he had not seen anybody else in the half an hour or so since he had decided to leave added to the chill he felt. And, just as he was considering the notion, he spotted motion in the corner of his vision once more. Foregoing calling out, Arraban hurried to the row where he had seen the motion, hoping to catch whatever it was before it left. But, once more, there was nothing there.
Not stopping to inspect anything closer, Arraban turned and hurried back the direction he had been going. It was high time he found his way out. Something was clearly wrong here, and he wanted no part of whatever it was. After passing a few more rows of shelves, a space opened to his right; in the center was another set of stairs, going down.
Arraban stopped, looking at the stairs. Now he was forced to consider. Had he only gone up one set of stairs, or two? He couldn't remember, and really it would not do to end up in a basement. He peered over the bannister, looking down to the floor below. He thought he could see more of the endless rows of shelves, though, if they library used the basement for more books, then this would not tell him anything. If the building even had a basement, that is.
Deciding he wasn't getting anywhere by worrying about a basement, Arraban decided to go down this set of stairs as well. As he descended, a shadow passed in front of him. He stopped dead, looking up for the source, but by the time he could look upwards, whatever it was had left his field of view.
Feeling his heart pumping raw fear through his veins, Arraban rushed down the remaining stairs and continued going the direction he had been on the floor above. He had to hit an exterior wall eventually, right?
The issue was, on this floor, everything felt closer and narrower. The shelves were taller, the ceiling lower. The paths between shelves felt barely wide enough for somebody to pass by him, and Arraban found himself pulling in towards his core. He once again saw motion out of the corner of his eye. This time, he chose to ignore it. It would be a waste of time to try to pursue it, so instead he just continued his swift walking pace. Just as he thought he was going to lose his mind to panic, he saw a wall ahead, between the shelves.
Arraban reached the wall and turned left to follow it. Now that he gave due consideration, the shelves here did not remind him of the shelves on the first floor. They were much more cramped than those had been. He hoped dearly he had not ended up in a basement. There were no guarantees he would find another staircase if he had. For now though, he had to keep going. He had glimpsed whatever figure was tailing him once again, and he did not want to double back and cross paths with it.
Arraban spotted a door ahead of him; when he reached it, he pushed it open a crack and slipped inside. Hopefully, whatever was following him would not have noticed his departure and he would shake his tail. He waited a few moments, leaning against the door and listening carefully for anything outside.
As seconds ticked by, Arraban decided nothing was going to bust the door down behind him. He tore his attention away from the door to look around the room he found himself in. The contents were more macabre than he had been expecting. The center of the room held a table, about human sized, with large leather straps. The straps were placed such that a human could be bound to the surface. On either wall next him there were workbenches covered with various tools and implements. Arraban could not help but look to the floor as well. Thankfully, it was blood free. On the wall opposite from him there was another door.
Curiosity overcoming apprehension, Arraban crossed the room and slowly opened that door as well. Beyond there was another, smaller room. The room held a small writing desk and a small shelf with yet more books. Arraban moved into the room, closing the door behind him. His eye was caught by a faceted gemstone sitting on the desk. There was some sort of smoky aura around it, and Arraban was immediately reminded of the book he had noticed earlier on human vitality. The aura looked similar to what had been depicted in sketches.
Arraban picked the crystal up, and could feel the power pulsing within it, leaving him with no doubt as to its origin. He gently placed the crystal back onto the desk, and noticed his hand shaking as he did so. That should not exist, not here. What was going on in this library? Was he trapped here now, the next victim of whatever psychopath was stealing human vitality? Was that what the mysterious figure tailing him had been?
The next thought in Arraban's head was not one he expected. What if he used the crystal to tap into magic? It would be easy, based on the book's description. He could realize one of his major life's goals, using magic. And it wasn't like he was going to be harming anyone. The harm had already been done. Before he could reconsider, his hand was already reaching for the crystal. With effort, he stopped himself short. He willed himself to take a step back, put himself out of reach of that evil temptation, but his feet would not heed his will.
Arraban closed his eyes and forcibly turned his head to face away. Doing so, he felt as though the pull from the crystal had lessened. He found he could move his feet again, so he retreated, heading back into the first room again.
There, he found himself face to face with an indistinct figure, cloaked in a dark robe. The figure stood much taller than Arraban, and it seemed to be looking directly at him. Arraban gulped. This must been the end, he figured. He heard a huffing sound coming from the figure as it began to advance on him. Arraban pushed himself back into the wall beside the door, and began to circle the table in the center of the room to keep it between him and the figure.
Finally though, Arraban realized what the huffing sound was. The figure was laughing. “What is so funny?” he asked, indignation overtaking fear. Sure he may be dead, but did he have to be laughed at in his final moments?
The figure began laughing more deeply, and a pair of perfectly normal — if old and pale — human hands raised to pull back the hood of the robe. Arraban recognized the face immediately. Most people would, as this person was only one of the most famous people around. Arraban was face to face with Archmage Korbos.
The Archmage smiled at Arraban. “I am sure you have many question, but allow me to briefly explain first, if I may. Firstly, no, I am not running experiments on extracting human vitality, perish the thought. I am, however, looking for an apprentice. I am growing old and will need someone to take my place when I pass on. Consider this a sort of test. You are quite asleep in a chair in my library, and this is a dream world I have constructed. I test all prospective apprentices this way. I could not teach anyone who would take such a clearly evil shortcut to power.”
Arraban was silent for a moment, absorbing what the Archmage told him. “So... I passed then?”
“Indeed,” Korbas said, nodding with a smile. “And a good thing too. I was beginning to worry that none that I was to test would be able to resist the allure of easy power.”
“Wait, I am the first?” Arraban asked.
Korbas just smiled. “If you wish to accept the apprenticeship, merely stop at the front desk. The librarians there have already been instructed to see you to my real study in the waking world. Now, it is quite time to wake, don't you think?”
As the Archmage posed the question, Arraban found the world around him dissolving, and he woke with a start. He was holding the book on the early magic council he could remember from what seemed like hours ago. Arraban shelved the book, feeling more like he was in a dream now than he had when he had actually been in a dream. He was going to enter an apprenticeship with the Archmage! Arraban could not contain his glee, and wore a broad smile all the way to his new master's office.