The heavy tome landed upon the desk with a crash, sending a fresh cloud of dust into the air and adding to the collection of grime staining Amelie’s long black robes. “I can’t stand this!” the young sorceress muttered in disgust, anger flaring in her steel-grey eyes, pale features mimicking the fiery red of her long tresses. It took all her resolve and composure not to march up to her master’s chambers and throw away her future in a fit of righteous fury, and with some effort, she forced her humours back into balance, the sight of the general chaos about her making it all the more difficult. By the gods, what have I gotten myself into?

When Amelie was first invited to study within the Tower of Lyonesse, she’d been proud beyond measure, for the Archmage Balos was famous for his wisdom and power, and rarely took students under his tutelage. For a young hedge-witch from a village so tiny and distant it didn’t even bear a name, it should have been an opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to expand her magical knowledge to heights she didn’t even know existed.

Instead, she’d found herself playing glorified maidservant to a doddering old goat. Each day, she received a single measly hour of instruction before being shooed out of Balos’ office to tend to the kitchens, or do the laundry, or rake weeds in the garden. In the two months she’d been his apprentice, she’d yet to learn a single new cantrip, much less put them into practice; he was quite insistent the she cast not even the slightest spell without his express permission, with failure to comply resulting in her immediate dismissal.

And then there was the library. By the gods, the library! For over a century, Balos had called the Tower of Lyonesse his home, and Amelie was certain he hadn’t bothered cleaning it at all in that time. Its chairs and tables were so encrusted with dirt and filth she doubted even magic could cleanse them, and those books not scattered about the floor like a hurricane had gone through the space had been randomly piled on the grimy shelves without rhyme or reason, shrouded in dust and left to rot. There had been a grand total of three books in the village where Amelie had grown up, and to see hundreds of them so ill-treated… Like this one here, she mused inwardly, brushing away the dust obscuring the cover with a gloved hand. Who knows what wisdom this holds?

Embossed runes, hidden on the cover beneath the veil of dust, flared to life at her touch, and Amelie leapt back in shock as the book opened of its own accord. She had but a moment to examine the ancient arcane script before the first long, shadowy tentacle manifested out from amongst the pages, whipping about her right wrist with blinding speed. “Wha—hey!’ Amelie shouted, instinctively straining against the appendage, damp with slime and seawater. “Let me go!”

In answer, the book flew off the table, a half-dozen more tentacles materializing to ensnare the beautiful sorceress. “Please, I—mmmppggh!” her cries of protests stifled by the thick tentacle wrapping itself over her mouth. Desperately, she brought her left hand up to tear it away, only for another to seize her left wrist and yank to over to join her right, slithering and tightening until her wrists were effectively bound together in front of her. Another still made itself known by wrapping tight about her narrow waist, a fifth beneath her breasts, and Amelie gave a muffled scream as she felt the last two slip beneath her long silken skirt and take hold of her booted ankles. “Mmmmpgh, mmmpppggh! Mmmmpppgh!”

A sharp tug, and Amelie was forced forward a pace, stiletto heels sliding uselessly across the wooden floor, her ceaseless struggles failing to earn her the slightest reprieve from the sorcerous trap. Any intellectual curiosity about what she’d stumbled upon gave way to a growing terror at the sight of the black portal yawing wide amidst the book’s pages, each jerk and wrench of the tentacles drawing her ever closer like a fish on the line.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, and Archmage Balos entered the library, frowning. “I see you haven’t managed to get my library in order yet.”

“Mmmmpgggh, mmmmmppgggh!” screamed Amelie. Even more tentacles emerged out of the book to seize her in their slimy embrace, yet her master did not move to intervene, observing his apprentice’s frantic efforts at escape with a clinical, almost dispassionate eye. “MMMPGGH!”

“Ah, the Eldritch Book of Zhan-Quaf! I was wondering where that had gotten to. Fear not, girl. The Aes Zhan are capricious beings, that is true, but I doubt you’ll come into any real harm in their possession. Pay attention when you enter their dimension, I expect a full report when you get back, and it’s not like you’ll be able to take any notes!”

Without further ado, Balos exited the room, muttering something under his breath about finding a new apprentice. The tentacles tightened their grip, and a single thought occupied the witch’s mind as she was dragged into the realm that lay beyond, bound and squirming.

That’s the last apprenticeship I ever take!