My mother died when I was very young, too young to remember her. Because my father was always busy, I was left alone for most of my childhood life. Each night, when the sky turned black, my father would return home. He would come into my room and give me lessons. On the very first night, I walked into my room and saw a symbol painted on my bedroom floor the very first night: a large circle, with eight smaller circles along its rim. In the center was an intricate design, a sort of spiral. My father appeared and stepped into one of the small circles, instructing me to do the same. I chose the one opposite him, and he began to give me my lessons in magic.
As I look back on it today, I realize that my father had a brutal way of teaching. He gave me a spell to cast, but he did not tell me how. He merely waved his hand, and something would appear in the middle of the great circle. It was sometimes a vampire-like bat, or a big cat made of flames. I would have to learn how to use my spell quickly in order to protect myself or fight back. After several lessons like this, I began to grow stronger in my magic. By the time I reached the age of ten, I had mastered spells that were meant for a much higher age. My father just nodded his head, telling me I was doing wonderfully. He said I had the makings of a true wizard. I continued these lessons until my fifteenth birthday. That was the day things went downhill.
I awoke in the bright light of the day, ready to wait until nightfall for another lesson with my father. The hours crawled by, but the sun finally began to set. I prepared for an evening of training and then took a seat in the middle of the great circle, waiting. Soon I realized something was not right. I got up and walked around, calling out to my father. I traveled outside, where the lights from a few torches barely illuminated the grounds. My father was nowhere to be seen.
I decided then to break a rule. I climbed the rocky staircase to the doorway that led to nowhere and opened it for the first time in my life. Inside it was a spiral, similar to the one painted on the floor of my room. I saw small wispy circles floating around, and as I leaned forward some began to enlarge. I saw a tree in one, a pyramid in another. Then I saw one that held a small statue of a red dragon. I did not spend much time with my father outside of our lessons, but I knew him well enough to know that he would travel to a world with dragons. I reached out my hand and touched the small circle with my finger. Instantly I was surrounded by nothingness, unable to move, but the feeling lasted less than a second, and suddenly I was somewhere else.
The small statue I had seen was now humongous, towering over me in the distance. A street led up to a square full of shops, but the place seemed abandoned and sinister. I hesitantly walked up the street, wary of every sound I heard. I saw flashes of light coming from behind a building, and I peeked around the edge of it. I saw my father standing in a circle exactly like the one painted on my bedroom floor. He was casting spells, but these were stronger and more powerful than I had ever seen. His opponent was a single girl who looked to be about my age. She had a concentrated expression on her face, but I could see the fear in her eyes. She tried to cast a spell to heal herself but it failed, causing the rest of her face to become as terrified as her eyes. My father saw the weakness and took advantage of it, waving his arms and creating a vampire in the middle of the circle. As the last of her energy was drained, the girl collapsed, defeated.
My vigorous training with my father usually ended with me in a position like that. I would have to spend hours recovering the next day, but I was alright in the end. I expected my father to come forward and help the girl up, giving her something to eat to regain her strength, just like he did with me. I was shocked, however, when my father raised his arms and cast another spell. Thinking it could be a healing spell, I watched him carry out the spell. Above him, clouds began to swirl, and three large bats swooped out of them, flying in circles. They formed a beam of energy and pointed it directly at the helpless girl. Horrified at what was going to happen, I averted my eyes just in time, but nothing could block out the dying screams of the poor girl.
I began to run back to the gateway. I had seen other worlds. I would have to go to one of them. But I knew I would never return to my home. Not after what I had just witnessed my father do. As I opened the door and touched the tree I had seen earlier, which looked like a good world to escape to, I heard my father's voice laughing evilly in the air, which I was sure could be heard no matter what world you were in:
"Beware, wizards. This is what happens to those foolish enough to confront me. This is what happens when you cross paths with Malistaire!"