Bob the Wizard

The council of elders had all gathered around their newest inductee to the academy. Some had ventured from distant lands with intrigue in their hearts, while others were there to bring back news that would dispel rumors in their homelands. Most of the elders, however, were there for safety.

There was chatter among them, disbelief that the academy would even dare accept such an individual into its ranks. The words did little to reach the new student’s ears, as focused as they were on the task at hand.

“O-okay, Bob.” The arbiter stood in the center of a recessed arena meant for only the grandest of magic duels, his trembles barely visible beneath his robes. “You know the basic incantation and the motion. Now, please …” The arbiter raised a staff, its surface glowing violet in preparation to defend himself. “Light the candle.”

Bob, who knew none of the faces watching him, stood before the candle. It was a tiny stump of wax with a pitiful wick sticking out of the top, placed gently in the center of a rickety wooden table. He’d overheard snippets as he’d been escorted to the arena, some higher-ups calling for the cheapest, flimsiest table that they could spare—something about them not wanting to waste quality materials.

Bob raised the thin stick in his hand. The arbiter had called it a wand, but it looked like little more than a twig in his careless, calloused hands. He feared that too tight a grip would snap it.

“You sure I know it?” Bob raised his hand, oblivious to the collective flinch that spread through most of the spectators. “‘Cause, I mean, I feel ridiculous just wavin’ this thing around.”

Bob gave the wand a few flicks and swishes, causing the arbiter to shout.

“Please!”

Bob stopped. The arbiter heaved out a sigh.

“Please, stop waving it around so carelessly.”

“See? Told you I look like a fool.”

The arbiter glanced to the side, sweat beading on his brow. “Y-yes. Of course. But all students look like fools at first. So, please demonstrate.”

Bob grumbled but ultimately said nothing. He was, after all, used to looking like a fool. He’d always been the butt of the joke around the office, and every time, it felt like management used him for the more menial tasks. Bob really didn’t care much. Money was money, after all.

This, however, was different. If he learned even a little bit of magic, then he’d be able to prove that he wasn’t a fool. He could laugh alongside them instead of being laughed at.

“Here goes.” Bob raised the wand, pointed it at the candle, and gave the tip a little flick. “Incende.”

The candle caught fire. As did the table. And the grass beneath it. And the air above it. Bob gaped, staring at the rising vortex of fire that he’d conjured. There were no words that he knew to describe the sight. But, oddly enough, there was no heat.

Moments later, the vortex dissipated, leaving behind a thoroughly impressed Bob and a frazzled arbiter in singed robes.

“Did I do it right?” Bob asked, looking at the tiny flame that clung to the candle’s wick.

The arbiter nodded once, loosened the grip on his staff, and sank to the ground, defeated. “Welcome to the academy, Bob.”