|D  uring that final year at Cracow, I began to study the occult in earnest. Studying the three books that my friend had given, I learned the nature and ways of the spirit world. At night, I would creep out alone, and underneath the moon, practice the magic I had been learning. I lived for months with the fear that I might be caught, though it would be hard to produce evidence of witchcraft, and even harder to convict. Heresy, was of course, still a punishable crime, though the church's position was growing weaker by the day.

One night, on my way to cast a circle, I was intercepted. At first I was frightened. It was then that I realized that this man was a professor at the university. I was lost in shock, though, and couldn't seem to find the words for a response. But I had no reason to be so surprised. After all, I already knew that I was not the only wizard in these parts.

The professor smiled at me and admitted that he had been watching me at work and concluded that although I was a natural, I still needed to be initiated. Therefore, he would take me as his prodigy.

To this I was dumbfounded, so I asked if it really was his intention to teach me. He nodded his head in assent. Magic is not a formal course at Cracow, but it is well known that it is taught, albeit not in a classroom. There was only one way to submit an application to be taught magic and I had passed it perfectly. He knew that I came to study science but had changed my field to that of the divinities, influenced by some rather unfortunate happenings. Then he asked me of destiny.

I was unsure of how to answer. For my life had seemed one misery after another. But I had always believed that some things were ordained by fate, while others were not. But destiny, that was another matter. Some men, surely, were born to greatness. It was a medical and scientific fact that some men are born better. If that were to be labelled destiny, I would not disagree, except that sometimes lowborn men achieve much, too. Would that fit the definition as well? I asked him why he asked me such a question.

Instead of responding, he put his hand on my shoulder and then turned and led me along the way I had intended to go before he had stopped me.

We walked in relative silence. I was in a state of puzzlement, while he seemed mildly amused. Both he and I knew that few people dared go out into the countryside this late into the night. We would look suspicious, but the chance was minute that we would be seen, for no one lived within a good distance of where we were.

Eventually the road we were on led to an intersection which branched out in several directions, signs pointing the way to the nearest towns. It was here at the crossroads, that we stopped. Being the sixth night of the dark moon, it was a good time for any kind of insightful magic. I had only planned to divine the future, so that I might ready myself accordingly. But he obviously had other plans.

He smiled at me and pulled his cloak off, revealing a stunning ceremonial robe of darkest blue. It was decorated with a pattern of stars that seemed to match the sky overhead. He pulled a matching cap over his head, which fitted around his skull tightly. In his hand he held an ash wand with a blue crystal set into its tip. Under his right arm, tucked into the robe's belt, a silver chalice gleamed in the moonlight. On the right side of his robe hung a dagger with a golden blade and an ornately carved hilt. And worn around his neck was a grey stone into which had been carved a pentagram.

I must have had quite a look of wonder on my face, admiring his costume, for he looked at me and smiled broadly. He then began to instruct me on how to cast a circle using the four elemental tools he wore. He allowed me to lead, so I cast the circle in the way I had always done, starting out by cleansing the area of negative energy. Invoking the sacred names of God, I concentrated on clearing the area of any negative energy. Then, I began casting the circle, invoking the Elements in each quarter.

When I had finished, I sat in the centre facing the east. For a full hour I meditated and nearly forgot my companion, for no words were spoken between us as we gazed at the sky. There was absolute silence; there was not even a breeze. Suddenly the sky was lit with the light of a hundred falling stars. This, I was told, was all I needed for a sign: I was already initiated by the gods.

That night changed my life forever. Up to that point, I had considered myself a mere dabbler, with no particular speciality or talent. Now I had a teacher who entrusted me with the knowledge that someday would make me great. He told me that my abilities were natural, and that he worried my abilities would exceed his own too quickly. But his worries were unfounded. Though I made many discoveries in my studies of the occult, I made none substantial enough to warrant the belief that I would not need him. In fact, from that night until the day I left Cracow, he invested in me as much as he could, and indeed, nearly everything he knew. And every moment with him was another step in my growth as a magician and a human being. I graduated from the university with a degree in divinity, knowledgeable in all that was holy in 1505. After the ceremony my teacher handed me a book, gave me a hug and disappeared amidst the crowd.

Looking down at the book, I realized that it was not a faded grimoire or a copy of an ancient manuscript. The front cover was labelled using the code letters that he had taught me to use, and as it is one of only a few codes that I personally use, I read it with ease. Along with several spells protecting the nature of the book, the name of my teacher was inscribed carefully on the ash cover. It was then that I realized that it was his personal spell-book; he had spoken of our parting before, that when I was ready, he would pass his life's work on to me and be able to die peacefully.

Mind Conventional Chaos