Soaring through the air, Basic struggled to keep up with Mashtin, who seemed to effortlessly navigate the skies. With a hearty laugh, Mashtin, still sweeping his broom with one hand, reached into his robe and pulled out a seemingly ordinary spoon. He winked at Basic, who watched in confusion.

  “Watch this!” Mashtin exclaimed, and with a flourish, he waved the spoon through the air. Suddenly, a spectacular firework dragon materialized, soaring across the sky. Its wings beat majestically before it let out a vibrant roar, culminating in a dazzling explosion of light and color that lit up the sky.

  Excitedly, Mashtin handed the spoon over to Basic. “Your turn, try it out!“

  Basic hesitated, eyeing the spoon with a mixture of awe and doubt. He took a deep breath and mimicked Mashtin's gesture. Instead of a dragon, however, a firework crow sputtered out of the spoon. It flapped weakly, barely gaining height before nose-diving straight into the forest below, vanishing with a pathetic puff.

  Mashtin burst into hearty laughter. “Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it!” he reassured Basic, slapping him on the back as they continued flying.

  Trying to join in the laughter, Basic glanced nervously backward, his smile fading as he noticed the small fires spreading where the crow had landed. The forest was beginning to catch flame, illuminating the night with an ominous glow. Fearing Mashtin's reaction, Basic quickly turned forward, pretending not to notice the growing inferno below.

  “Right, just a bit of practice,” Basic murmured, trying to distract himself from the disaster unfolding behind them, hoping that the fire wouldn't spread too far.

  As they continued their flight, Mashtin chuckled and glanced over at Basic. “A crow, huh? That’s an interesting choice. Crows often symbolize death and destruction, you know.“

  Basic, already anxious about the small fire he had inadvertently started, felt a wave of worry. “… Is there anything linking crows and arson?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

  Mashtin thought for a moment, his brow furrowing in contemplation as he navigated the night sky. “No, I don't reckon there is.” he finally replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Crows are just messengers in most tales—misunderstood creatures, really.“

  Relieved, Basic wiped the sweat from his brow with his free hand, trying to steady his broomstick with the other. “Good, good,” he murmured, more to reassure himself than anything. He refocused on his sweeping, making sure to keep his broomstick stable and avoid any more magical mishaps.

  As Mashtin noticed Basic's tired appearance and confused attempts at managing the broomstick, he decided it was time for a break. “We'll stop at the next town for some rest and supplies,” Mashtin announced, pointing toward a twinkling collection of lights in the distance.

  Basic, relieved yet anxious about more flying, nodded. “How exactly do we land this thing?” he asked, gripping his broomstick a bit tighter.

  Mashtin chuckled at the question. “Just slow your sweeping, lad. Ease off a bit, and you'll start to descend gently,” he instructed with a grin.

  Taking the advice a little too literally, Basic slowed his sweeping motions drastically. Suddenly, he found himself plummeting toward the ground, the earth rushing up to meet him much faster than he had anticipated. Panic set in as he flailed, trying to regain control or at least brace for impact.

  Just inches from the ground, Mashtin casually flicked his wrist, freezing Basic in mid-air. “And here we are, Angular Alley!” he announced nonchalantly, as if Basic's near-crash landing was part of the plan. He gestured around at the quaint, slightly crooked buildings that lined the magically illuminated streets of the town. Basic, still suspended in the air, could only gape in relief and disbelief at his sudden, if abrupt, salvation.

  Basic's face dropped as he held the two broken pieces of his broomstick, looking utterly defeated. Mashtin, noticing his dismay, quickly shifted the topic to something he deemed far more significant. “Don't fret about the broom, Hairy,” Mashtin began, using the nickname that seemed to stick. “There's something more crucial we need to discuss.“

  Basic, puzzled, looked up. “Like what?” Tossing aside the ruined broom.

  “Well—you, o’course.“

  That was all Basic needed to hear.

  Mashtin turned them away from the bustling streets of Angular Alley, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves might listen. “You were once a little boy born to magical parents,” he said, his usually merry tone turning grave.

  “So… I was born after all,” replied Basic.

  “Oh aye.” Mashtin affirmed, nodding solemnly. “You were powerful—and handsome—with magical hair that shone like spun gold.“

  “I’m still two of those,” said Basic begrudginly, touching a part of his scalp he didn't know existed.

  “You’ve forgotten more than you realize.” Mashtin said, wagging a finger.

  “And how do you know this?“

  Mashtin glanced around cautiously before continuing. “Because I was the one who wiped your memory,” he confessed, his voice heavy with regret.

  Basic's expression turned sour. “You can’t be bothered to wipe your ass yet you’ve wipe me of my existence!” a hint of anger lacing his tone.

  “Shh, I can help you get it back.” Mashtin hushed him gently, wary of eavesdroppers. “You were a troubled soul back then, always getting into mischief. You really should be thankin’ me ya know.“

  “Mischief, you say? And how many cursed souls did I vanquish?“

  Mashtin whips his gaze to meet Basics, with a grimace on his face as if he’s about to deliver bad news. “Vanquish? As in duel? No-ho! Not yet at least.“

  “Then what?“

  “You were a tattletale o’course! Nothing we sorcerers hate more than a squealer.“

  “I was a snitch?” Basic's voice was incredulous, mixed with a tinge of horror.

  “Aye, you were the golden snitch, to match your golden hair,” Mashtin replied with a sad smile. “You fibbed about a bloke named Gandalhar the Great. Turned our world flat on its head, it did.“

  Basic's interest peaked at the mention of the name. “Gandalhar?“

  “Yes,” Mashtin nodded. “Gandalhar was one of the greatest sorcerers who ever lived. Your fibs led to him being shunned from the magical realm— came as a grave insult to all the first families. He was a great man, with a kind heart. So—to save you from their wrath, I erased your memory, and sent you far away.“

  “I hope these first families are no longer around…” Basic asked.

  Mashtin's demeanor shifted back to his usual merriment, and he clapped Basic on the back with a hearty laugh. “I wouldn’t worry. I convinced them you were a kid who made a mistake, was all. The realm needs you, Hairy. There are many sorcerers who need dealing with.“

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  Basic felt a surge of pride at Mashtin's words, his chest puffing out a little.

  Before they proceeded to explore the streets of Angular Alley, Mashtin's expression turned serious again. “Just remember, your reputation here is still not the best,” he warned. “They call you the boy who fibbed… Do not let these words anger you. You must overcome them.“

  Basic nodded solemnly, absorbing the weight of Mashtin's advice. As they walked down the bustling streets of Angular Alley, Mashtin began to point out various magical shops and scenic spots. Each building seemed to twist and turn with its own kind of magic, some with windows that shimmered with moving images, others with doors that seemed to change shape and color.

  “Over there is the Elixir Emporium,” Mashtin said, gesturing to a shop with bubbling potions visible through the open windows. “And that,” he pointed to a narrow building that seemed to stretch impossibly upwards into the sky, “is the Scroll Stack, the tallest bookshop in all of Angular Alley.“

  Basic looks at a peculiar building with people lined up outside. “What’s that?” He questions, “Some kind of magical armory?” his excitement barely contained.

  “That’s an outhouse, Hairy” said Mashtin in a sorrowful tone. “But hey, look over there!” trying to spark more of his pupil’s enthusiasm.

  Basic took it all in, the magical heart of the alley beating strong and vibrant around him. Despite the warnings about his reputation, he couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and possibility as they walked through the magical thoroughfare, ready to explore this new chapter of his life, one magical moment at a time.

  As they continued through the bustling streets of Angular Alley, Basic's eyes darted around, taking in the odd and diverse assortment of characters. “All of these people are sorcerers?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

  “Yes, sorcerers and sorcettes,” Mashtin confirmed with a nod, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He pointed toward a scraggly man wearing a dusty, pointed hat that seemed to twitch occasionally. “See him? That bloke tried to take the soul of his dying wife and put it into algae. Thought it'd make her live forever.“

  Basic's face contorted in a mix of horror and curiosity. “Was he… successful?” he asked tentatively.

  Mashtin burst out laughing, the sound echoing slightly off the cobblestone path. “You don't see crawling green slime next to him, do you?” he joked.

  Basic let out a short laugh and shook his head. “No,” he said, then frowned. “I guess I don’t.“

  He glanced around at the others, his confidence wobbling just long enough to notice how strange they all were.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Mashtin suggested, leading the way down the alley. Basic followed, glancing at the figures they passed.

  Mashtin chuckled as they wound through the streets of Angular Alley, occasionally glancing back to ensure Basic was keeping pace. “How you feeling? Tired, hungry?” he asked.

  Basic rubbed his arms. “Well, I am sore from all the sweeping. I feel like I’m back at the Bumbling Stump.“

  Mashtin nodded thoughtfully, reaching into the depths of his numerous pockets as they walked. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a blob of what appeared to be mashed up potatoes and began to eat it heartily. Basic watched, his face contorting with disgust at the sight of the sweat and dirt stains around the pocket where the food had been stored.

  “What is that?” Basic asked, unable to hide his curiosity mixed with revulsion.

  Mashtin grinned, holding up the blob slightly. “Oh, this? It's magical potatoes,” he explained with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  He leaned in closer and whispered, “They still had the peel on them when I bought 'em,” followed by a sly wink.

  Basic stared at him, unsure whether to be amused or further disgusted.

  Mashtin offered a clump of the mashed goop to Basic. “One bite o’that will make a man feel good as new. The key is to squish it under your armpits. Let it get nice and sweaty before you clamp it,” he said, holding out the blob temptingly.

  “No, thanks, I… ate some when you weren’t looking,” he said, staring at the sweat stains on Mashtin’s gown.

  As they continued down the bustling street of Angular Alley, Mashtin suddenly halted in front of a magical sweets shop, entranced by the colorful display. Basic, distracted by his own thoughts, didn't notice in time and bumped into Mashtin's sweaty back, recoiling instantly with a grimace.

  Mashtin, seemingly unfazed, turned around and pointed toward the far end of the cobblestone path where a series of carriages were parked against a decorated wall. “You see that wall over there with the carriages? That’s the way to Dinglebats,” he said, adjusting his cloak and looking around suspiciously, as if wary of being watched. The sign for the sweet shop loomed humorously over his shoulder.

  “Go on now. I, uh, have some important business I need to attend to,” Mashtin continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Remember, Hairy, stay on the straight and narrow. Whatever you do, don’t fib on anyone.“

  Basic nodded. “Yes, sure, straight and narrow, got it.“

  Basic, feeling the weight of many curious eyes, continued down the street, his steps echoing against the cobblestones. The people of Angular Alley were peculiar enough, but their stares made him feel as if he were a specter floating through the market. Whispers followed him like shadows, and he couldn’t shake the sensation of being a character in their tales.

  He reached the wall where the carriages were lined up, his eyes scanning for any sign that might indicate the entrance to a school of sorcery. Seeing nothing that hinted at magic lessons or grand wizardry, Basic felt a twinge of irritation.

  The sound of a throat being cleared snapped Basic out of his thoughts. He ignored it at first, assuming it was just another oddity of the bustling alley. But the second, louder clearing of the throat was impossible to disregard. Turning around, Basic locked eyes with a man whose presence seemed as sharp as his features.

  The man's nose was large and hawk-like, dominating a face framed by dark, split bangs. His single raised eyebrow gave him a look of deep scrutiny, as if he was judging Basic's very essence. The man's lips were pursed, hovering on the edge of speech, imbued with a look that teetered between disdain and curiosity.

  Basic stood there, meeting the man's gaze, the background noise of the alley fading into a murmur as he waited for the stranger to make his intent known.

  The man's voice was flat and drawn-out as he taunted, “Told any fibs recently? You sniveling twat,” with a flick of his robes.

  Basic, taken aback by the sudden insult, responded with a puzzled look, “Not that I know of.“

  “You’ve forgotten me, haven’t you? I see hair is not the only thing you’ve lost… “

  Basic could only blink in face of the hidden jabs.

  “My name is Snivelous but you’ll address me as Professor Snob. I teach the pretentious arts at Dinglebats Academy of Sorcerers and Sorcettes,” the man declared without a hint of warmth.

  Basic, still trying to make sense of the interaction, “Forgive me, you do leave a great impression.”

  “Pleasure,” Snivelous replied, his voice dripping with mockery as he ignored Basic's offered arm and continued speaking. “You're on your way to the academy, I presume? You’ve done well to make it this far. All that’s left for you is to simply run through this wall here, where you’ll be transported into the great hall. Your first experience of what's possible in our magical world.“

  Basic eyed the seemingly solid looking wall. “You’re saying that if I run into that wall I’ll magically be transported to Dinglebats?“

  Snivelous looked at Basic as if he were a particularly slow student and stated flatly, “Is my word not good enough for you? Do you think of yourself as a grander sorcerer than I?” his tone suggesting that Basic should have already known this.

  Despite his reservations, Basic decided to trust the instruction. He took a few steps back before locking eyes with Snivelous. The professor gives him a nod, permitting him to proceed. Basic turns back and charges at the wall with all his might, only to collide with the hard, unyielding surface of the brick, his body thudding against the mortar.

  Snivelous leaned over Basic's mangled body and droned, “It’s a brick wall, you twat… Now you understand the chaotic nature of fibbing.” motioning a finger upon his lip.

  All Basic could muster in response was a painful grunt.

  Just then, Mashtin's voice was heard approaching, greeting Snivelous warmly. “Greetings, Professor Snob.“

  Snivelous responded with disdain, “Mashtin, you’re looking as healthy as ever. Make yourself useful and see to it that Hairy here makes it to Dinglebats… unharmed.“

  Professor Snob whirled his cape dramatically and strode away to the heart of Angular Alley.

  Mashtin approached the mangled Basic and, without any dialogue, stuffed the magical potatoes from earlier into Basic's mouth.

  Instantly healed, Basic sprang to his feet, trying to spit out the disgusting meal.

  “I hate that guy,” Basic demanded.

  “The feller's name is Snob. I reckon his family does too.” Mashtin replied.

  “A fine tour. Truly. Now how do I get to Dagglebats?“

  Mashtin pointed to the nearby carriages and said with a hint of mockery, “We use the bloody carriage, o’ course. What’d ya think?“

  Basic felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. Everything in this place was strange and unnatural, and for a moment he wished Alistair were there—someone who could make sense of it all.