Something that just came to me. What if Fantasia happened in a shared universe, all the segments just stories in the same world? And how are the two most famous segments in the film connected?

The First Trial of Yen Sid

Deep in the forest there stood a tower, owned by an old and powerful Sorcerer. Master Yen Sid. Inside Yen Sid's tower strode a young Mouse, the Sorcerer's apprentice. The Mouse's name was Mickey.

Mickey walked through his master's vast library, far larger than the narrow, crooked tower would suggest (Mickey was certain powerful magic was involved) and dusted the shelves and books. After that little escapade with the brooms flooding his master's workshop, Mickey thought that this was a light punishment. Though he had the feeling that he was being punished more for shirking his chores than flooding the workshop. He felt that the broom incident had amused his master more than angered him. Of course the humor may have come from swatting Mickey's backside with said broom.

As Mickey dusted the shelves, his gaze wandered over the various tomes the library contained. Many were written in languages he had yet to learn, but the number he could actually read had fascinating names. Forces of Un-Nature: The Many Branches of Magic, Writing Reality: The Power of the Nordic Runes, The Hephestan Index: A Guide to Ancient Magical Weapons and Armor. They all sounded amazing and Mickey couldn't wait to read them. However, he thought it would be best not to push his luck.

As he finished dusting (a quite long and laborious task that involved climbing up and down the rolling ladders and quite a few close-calls with gravity), Mickey placed the large duster made from the feathers of some strange, exotic magic bird away in a cupboard and turned to go. As he left, however, something caught his eye. The air behind his master's desk had … rippled …

Though he often didn't feel like it, Master Sid had once commented under his breath that Mickey was a natural user of magic. Mickey was fairly certain he hadn't been meant to hear that, as he had only caught the statement due to his incredible hearing. Then again, Master Yen Sid was a smart man and may have said it intentionally as a quick compliment. Who knew?

Anyway, after the broom incident about a week ago, Mickey had felt his magical core, the source of magic within himself, strengthened by the experience. Learning magic, he had found, was much like learning anything else. One's magical core had to be strengthened, like building muscle as an athlete or stretching the mind as a scholar. Then practice made perfect. Doing something new like animating the brooms had stretched his magical muscles and increased his strength. It had also heightened his senses. Which, in turn, allowed him to ever-so-slightly see past the cloaking spell that covered something in the library.

A voice in the back of Mickey's mind warned him against what he was planning to do, but Mickey brushed it away. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Mickey was a Mouse. Mickey reached out and tried to touch whatever was being cloaked, but his hands touched only air. At least, that's what he thought. Master Sid was a powerful Sorcerer, possibly the most powerful; it would be simple for him to cloak something against more than sight.

Mickey took a deep breath and reached deep within himself to his magical core, while also expanding his consciousness to see the magic of the cloaking spell. After a few moments he saw what looked like a net of glowing, dark-blue threads interspersed with stars and moons, all woven around something large and blocky. A cabinet, perhaps?

Mickey stretched out his magic, visible to him as crimson threads shot through with strands of golden-yellow, and began to gently pick apart the magic. It was slow going, but he managed to pick apart enough to leave the object open to his sight and touch. With that, Mickey came back to reality to see a mid-sized cabinet of dark wood, its handles tightly bound by silvery thread.

Mickey sat on his knees and studied the thread. It looked like it was woven from spider silk. There were many forms of magic and monstrous spiders, but their silks were all nearly indestructible. Mickey extended a strand of his magic toward the thread, which soaked it up and unwound by itself. The door to the cabinet swung open silently.

Mickey chuckled in triumph and looked inside. The cabinet held a series of leather-bound books, each emblazoned with two dates. Journals? Mickey looked at the first one: June 21, 490 - March 16, 532. Wow; Mickey knew his master was old, but not that old. By chance, Mickey looked at the bottom row to find a couple of journals bound in black leather, each emblazoned with a different symbol. Curiosity rising again, Mickey took the one that looked the most scary: a volume that looked even darker than the others imprinted with a monstrous-looking bat.

Mickey climbed into his master's chair and, after dealing with another silver thread keeping it closed, opened the book to the beginning.

The Chronicle of the Binding of the Black God

Yen Sid, Sorcerer of the Second Degree

After completing my learning of mystic arts from Grandfather Rowan, he gave me a task to perform, one of the utmost importance. So I collected what I needed for the task and made for Lysa Hora, the mythic …

Mickey tore his eyes from the text, his heart pounding; it had felt as if the journal were sucking him in. And not figuratively; quite literally. After calming down, Mickey thought about what had happened. In retrospect, aside from surprise, Mickey had felt no fear during the process.

Master Sid always told Mickey to trust his instincts. Magic, he said, was just as much an intuitive act as one of practiced learning; in many ways even more so. Mickey took a deep breath and began again. As he neared the end of the sentence, he felt the journal draw him in again. This time, he didn't fight. He let it work ...

In his mind's eye, Mickey saw a man in his thirties walking a thin, stone path suspended in midair within a swirling nebula of color. Mickey was shocked when he realized, a moment later, that this was his master! Or at least, what his master had looked like.

His master had hair the color of oiled wood that would have reached his shoulders had it not been pulled in a short tail, bound by what looked like a thin silver chain. His face was unlined except for crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, underneath his bushy eyebrows. His chin was covered by a small beard black as ebony, the precursor to the massive grey curtain Mickey was familiar with. His hawk-like nose seemed a touch smaller. He was dressed in royal-blue robes with only a single crescent moon on the right breast, covered by a worn traveling cloak. He carried a long staff of rowan wood and a pouch hanging from his belt.

The only thing that was the same were his eyes, the irises pale enough to blend into the whites, giving his eyes an otherworldly cast; piercing when calm, frightening when angry, always full of wisdom.

Yen Sid (Mickey decided to call this younger version by his name) trekked along the stone path until he reached a series of forks, each leading to a mass of swirling silver fog. He hesitated for just a moment before choosing one and passing through. Even in the recounting, Mickey could feel the Passing Between Realms, an action that could shred one's equilibrium and leave them a sicking mess for hours if they were not prepared. Yen Sid passed through unflinchingly.

After a few moments, the fog receded to reveal a large village of stone buildings. But what really drew attention was the huge mountain that dominated the landscape, its shadow cast over the village. The mountain was made of dark stone that seemed to dim the area around it; in the fading light of dusk, it almost glowed green. Lysa Hora, Mickey recalled. It's other name jumped to Mickey's mind, supplied by the journal - Bald Mountain.

Yen Sid conjured a small cloud underneath his feet, which he rode toward the mountain. As the crossed over the village, the light grew ever dimmer until, upon his arrival, the sunlight was gone completely. Just as the last beam of sunlight faded away, the mountaintop began to shift. A heavy cloud of pure darkness rose from the peak and churned, writhing like endless serpents, until it coalesced into a recognizable shape.

Standing on the mountaintop was a thing of the darkest nightmares. A massive, black gargoyle-esque figure, its body rippling with muscles. Its eyes were a burning, sulfurous yellow, set over a leering mouth of massive fangs. Its head was topped by curling horns settled over goat-like ears. The entity's long arms ended in powerful hands capped with vicious claws. In place of feet were cloven hooves. But the most impressive, terrifying - impressively terrifying feature was it massive, bat-like wings, each thrice the size of its body.

Upon the … thing's arrival, demons rose from the peak of the mountain, souls of the damned and restless rising from the graveyard and prison of the village. They rode around the monster in a whirling storm, ethereal cries and calls echoing off the sky. The thing seemed to enjoy this, its features stretching into a terrifying rictus grin.

All of a sudden, the thing frowned and turned toward Yen Sid, its gaze penetrating the tightly-woven cloaking spell he had wrapped himself in. His presence known, Yen Sid cast off his cloaks, both physical and metaphysical.

"Chernabog!" he shouted; the creature's name, Mickey realized. "Come forth to the challenge of Yen Sid, Sorcerer of Earth, student of Grandfather Rowan!"

The monster seemed to pause at his words before it resumed its leer and laughed with a deep cackle, the mountain itself seeming to echo its levity. Yen Sid closed his eyes and drew deeply on his magical core, funneling his power into the staff clutched in his hands and mumbling long-forgotten incantations under his breath. With a shout, he thrust his staff forward, releasing a blinding pulse of golden-white light that washed across the mountain.

Chernabog seemed annoyed by it, like a deep sleeper woken by the rising sun, but the spirits surrounding him reacted far more strongly. The demons writhed in pain and burst into smoke, their physical forms decimated and essences returning to whence they came. The enslaved spirits screeched in relief, the bonds holding them there shattered and they faded away to wherever they were to go in the afterlife.

Chernabog howled in frustration at losing his playthings, the grating, booming, unearthly cry echoing off the mountain and the sky itself. Yen Sid felt as if the fiendish sound infused with evil intent were grating against his very soul; but he held his ground and refused to flinch. Its cry uttered, the challenge accepted, Chernabog turned toward Yen Sid with a fearsome snarl, only to be met with an explosion of fire. The creature shook it off as nothing more than an annoyance (he had been born in fire) and unfurled its wings, diving for Yen Sid.

The sorcerer dispelled his cloud and dropped like a stone, narrowly avoiding Chernabog's claws. He conjured a replacement and flew away, launching boulders from the mountain at his opponent. Chernabog shrugged these off, too, and sucked in a massive breath, letting it out as a powerful storm of hellish flames.

Yen Sid dove for a cliff on the mountain and quickly wove a series of wards, magical shields and protections, that still nearly shattered under the onslaught of ethereal fire. As the last tongue of fire passed, he let the wards fall apart and collapsed with a gasp, then lunged off the cliff to avoid the archdemon's hooves crushing the stone where he had just stood.

Yen Sid fell for a moment before weaving another cloud, slowing his fall and then shooting up. He conjured a tidal wave of water, his most familiar element, to wash against his foe. The beast dug its claws into the mountain face to hold against the wave crashing against it, hissing in irritation as the water boiled away.

Chernabog released its hold and dropped to meet the puny human that would dare attack it at its home, on the night it was most powerful. It flared its wings, blocking any path of escape, and wreathed its body in hellfire. It grinned evilly in triumph.

Yen Sid's eyes widened in surprise, but he kept his cool. He chanted a spell and vanished in a burst of purple smoke. Chernabog roared in fury at the human's escape, its powerful senses rapidly zeroing in on Yen Sid's location. It flew up with powerful wing-strokes to the clouds above the top of the mountain.

Yen Sid, upon reforming, tore a charm from the pouch at his belt; the ornament was made of stone and carved with a bow and arrow worked in silver. Yen Sid crushed the charm into dust, using the energy infused to summon a score of massive silver spears. With a thrust of his arm, they flew toward Chernabog. The creature roared in pain as the silver spears peppered its flesh, the wounds searing. But it didn't stop and caught Yen Sid in its grasp.

Yen Sid grunted against the force of Chernabog's grip, its malignant spirit interfering with his vanishing spell. The creature levelled off and snarled with a grin, ready to crush him in its grasp.

His time running out (and his ribs bruising and cracking) Yen Sid took a gamble and summoned lightning to hand, firing it like a lance into the fiend's eyes. Chernabog howled in pain and clutched its ruined eyes, dropping Yen Sid in the process. The sorcerer had just enough time to conjure another cloud to break his fall. He groaned in pain as he felt his legs and wrists crack, the muscles around them tearing from the force of his landing.

Chernabog growled as its eyes reformed, knitted back from scratch from the essence of malevolent darkness that comprised its body. It quickly ripped the silver spears from its body, the summoned weapons fading to dust. The wounds quickly closed and Chernabog shouted a series of guttural noises, cursing in an archaic form of hell-speak.

The archdemon tucked its wings in and plummeted for the mountain where Yen Sid lay, desperately healing his broken ribs and torn muscles. He barely had time to finish when Chernabog crashed into the mountain top beside him in a spray of broken stone before moving like lightning to pin the sorcerer against the ground. The hellspawn spat curses in vile languages not suited to human speech, promising to feast on his bones and then enslave his soul to dance for him, as well as countless other agonies and humiliations.

During the tirade, Yen Sid rapidly took stock of his situation. He had expended much of his power and Chernabog was none the worse for wear. Its reserves of strength easily dwarfed his own and its stamina was virtually limitless. And even if he could gain the upper hand, his master had been quite clear that this was nearly a losing battle. Chernabog was an incarnation of malevolence, an indestructible force that would last until the world itself ended. He couldn't kill it.

Yen Sid's eyes shot open as an insane idea formed in his mind, rapidly growing into a plan. It was incredibly risky, the outcome unforeseeable, and would likely kill him. But then, his life expectancy at this point was rather short anyway.

Yen Sid focused his remaining power into a blast of force that ripped Chernabog's grasp away and blasted the sorcerer away, then he quickly formed a globe of white-hot flames in one hand and a sphere of lightning in the other. He thrust both hands out and, through sheer instinct, wove them into a braid of searing destruction that struck Chernabog in the chest, ripping a howl of agony from its throat.

But that was not the insane plan. Yen Sid was a mage, a powerful one, and had trained since childhood in the mystic arts under one of the most knowledgeable entities in existence. In an unprecedented span of time he had become a sorcerer.

Sorcerers were a breed above other mages, the pinnacle of magic users. They were experts in all forms of magic; all forms. A sorcerer understood that light and dark were simply terms for the same thing; they were masters of both sides of the coin and all points of the star. And Yen Sid was hedging his survival, much less his victory, on that very insight.

Yen Sid forged the remaining dregs of his magical core into a lance of awareness and forced it into the mountain itself. He had sensed as he approached it that Lysa Hora, Bald Mountain, contained a massive reservoir of dark magic. Yen Sid used his magic to forge a connection to that reservoir and channel it through him, intuitively syncing it with his own magical frequency, searing it from raw natural power to roughly match his magical core.

Chernabog, with perception that reached beyond that of mortals, saw this happening and felt a surge of something nearly alien to it: fear. It lunged with a fearsome roar at Yen Sid. But Yen Sid only turned his grimace of pain, formed by the burning surge of power, into a rictus grin. He hammered the magic of Bald Mountain into chains of darkness that knocked Chernabog away and began wrapping him from head to toe.

The beast howled in pain and dread as Yen Sid flung him to the summit of the mountain, the very peak, and bored the archdemon into it, using long-forgotten seals and binding curses to permanently fuse Chernabog to the mountain itself. The abomination was immortal, it couldn't be killed; but it could be trapped. Trapped forever to never plague the Earth again.

Chernabog howled in anguish as it was forced deeper and deeper into the mountain, the sorcerer's magic binding it with utter finality. It sunk into the black stone with utter painful slowness up to its waist until Yen Sid was done.

Yen Sid, exhausted and drained from overusing his own power and the strain of controlling that raging tide in the mountain, now gone, collapsed. Chernabog, trembling with searing pain, grabbed the near-dead sorcerer and howled in its anguish. It may have lost, it may have been trapped, but at least it had its enemy.

Chernabog opened its maw as wide as it could and prepared to swallow Yen Sid when a sound caught its ear. A small sound; a horrible sound. A peal that interrupted its victory. The creature shook it off and prepared again, but the sound came again. Then it came faster, and faster, each ring a wave of paralyzing goodness. The peal was a church bell from the village beneath Bald Mountain.

Chernabog dropped his enemy as the waves of the church bell washed over him, signaling the coming dawn. And the sun was its antithesis; the one thing it could never stand against. Knowing somehow that there was only one way to survive, Chernabog flared his wings and wrapped himself in them, shielding himself from the blazing, burning, sunlight.

Upon being dropped, Yen Sid rolled down the mountain face and hurtled into the empty air. He was barely conscious and delirious. As he neared the ground, his instincts screamed at him. His eyes shot open in mortal panic that brushed aside his exhaustion and he wove a weak funnel cloud that kept him from being crushed at the foot of the mountain. The landing was still quite painful.

Yen Sid lay there, utterly spent, for who knew how long. But he was found by a young boy, a shepherd, who dragged him under a tree and let him rest. Yen Sid woke a few hours later and took stock of his situation. The boy smiled kindly at him. Yen Sid cracked his neck and, in a puff of blue mist, conjured a small bag of silver, a thanks for helping him.

Yen Sid stood, bones creaking and muscles aching, and delved into his somewhat-replenished store of magic. He moved his pointed fingers in a square shape, creating an ornate wooden door that would take him home. He turned and smiled at the shepherd boy before turning the knob and entering his tower.

Now all he wanted was a hot bath, a hot meal, and a week-long nap.

Mickey shook his head the recollection ended, head still spinning from his masters duel with the demon. And that had been just after his apprenticeship ended. No wonder he had been named a sorcerer. The Sorcerer.

Mickey, smiling widely, rewrapped the journal and put it back in its place before locking the cabinet and patching up the cloaking spell. He turned to leave … and was confronted by a wall of blue. He slowly looked up, eyes growing wider and wider, to gaze into the face of his very old, very real, very angry master. The crossed arms and deeper-than-usual scowl told it all. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a good idea to look through his master's property.

A quiet tapping made itself known, a well-known sound of Master Yen Sid's disapproval. Master Sid snapped his fingers, producing a mop in a swirl of blue mist. Another snap conjured a pail. Both appeared in Mickey's hands. Mickey hung his head and trudged to do his next chore: cleaning the tower top to bottom.

As he left the library, he heard his master clear his throat, and stood upright to scurry away. What he didn't see was the small smirk on his master's face, or the fact that Yen Sid had in an instant magically cleaned all but Mickey's room.

Yen Sid sighed contentedly. His apprentice had made that particular mess; it was more than fair that he clean it up.

Hope you guys liked it. I feel Yen Sid doesn't get as much love from the Disney fandom as he should. We know almost nothing about him, so I thought I'd write at least part of his story.

If you guys liked it, leave a review. I'm considering a series of oneshots chronicling Yen Sid's large, yet currently unknown, impact on the history of the Disney universe. Anyway, hoped this was as good as I think! See y'all!