The University Of Enchanted Arts | Fantasy Bedtime Tale

Take a tour of the world's only magic university in tonight's fantasy bedtime story.

Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy-inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel,

And I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

Follow along with my voice for as long as you like,

And when you're ready,

Feel free to let go of the story and relax into sleep.

If you're still awake at the end of the story,

I'll guide you through a brief body scan.

In tonight's story,

You arrive at orientation for your first term of study at the University of Enchanted Arts.

Here,

The world's most gifted,

Magical minds come together to learn and expand their horizons.

Though you are still unsure how to direct your studies in this next chapter,

You meet inspiring professors and classmates who show you that no two magical paths are the same and that you belong here.

Learning is about finding out who you are,

What you are,

Where you are and what you are standing on,

And what you are good at,

And what's over the horizon,

And,

Well,

Everything.

It's about finding the place where you fit.

I found the place where I fit,

And I would like everybody else to find theirs.

Terry Pratchett,

I Shall Wear Midnight In any place where two rivers meet,

Their currents wrestling,

Sifting,

And braiding together on the journey to the sea,

You can expect strange things to happen.

For ages untold,

The meeting places of rivulets and other bodies of water have served as sacred spaces for rituals and religious rites.

You can feel it if you visit one.

A vibration in the energy,

A ripple in space and time that if it could only be harnessed,

Might unfold the many secrets of the universe.

This is a confluence,

A meeting and a merging of two separate bodies,

Each with their own name,

Who join together and create something new.

They take a new name,

Become one,

Yet retain much of their original quality.

Sometimes this meeting,

Which occurs in perpetuity,

Countless droplets of water encountering each other in moments of frenzied activity,

Over and over and everywhere and anywhere,

Triggers chemical reactions,

And sometimes physical ones.

Two rivers weave their rapids together,

Wearing patterns into the surrounding country,

Reshaping the landscape all the time.

These confluences may be warlike or peaceful,

A struggle for power or a gentle union,

A marriage,

And often they are all these things in the course of a year,

Or even a day.

And at these wild,

Unpredictable confluences,

Travelers may find themselves turned around,

Boats rerouted to calmer waters,

Or viewers from the shore may report sightings of unusual shapes and reflections on the water's surface.

And in some places,

Where rivers and energies and histories meet,

Ones skilled in magic may find that they can manipulate the confluence.

It is at the confluence of two rivers,

The Son and the Rhone,

That you stand today.

In the heart of a city marked by Roman ruins,

Gothic cathedrals,

And modern architectural marvels,

It's more than just a meeting of bodies of water.

Histories live side by side and stacked upon each other here in Lyon,

From the ancient to the modern.

If you tune into your surroundings,

You can feel the traces on the air,

As if all time is happening simultaneously,

And you can pick up different ages on different frequencies.

A museum overlooks the confluence.

The modern structure,

All steel and glass,

Unfolds like a landscape,

With fluid,

Dynamic shapes and curves and gravity wells that fool the eye.

It calls itself,

Appropriately,

The Museum of Confluences.

But it is not concerned only with bodies of water and how they meet.

The museum tells the story of humanity in the language of intersections,

The meeting places of cultures,

Sciences,

And disciplines.

And here,

In the gardens below the museum,

Where time and space and energy flow together like the currents of a river,

The city of Lyon holds a secret.

Go on,

Get closer,

Walk to the apex of the Presqu'il Peninsula,

To the edge of the gardens until you run out of land altogether,

Until your feet overhang the edge.

You might expect that with the faintest southward wind,

You'll tumble into the rivers,

But instead,

You'll fall headfirst,

Like Alice,

Down the rabbit hole,

Into a pocket of unbound space,

Magically displaced.

Down and down and down you'll go,

As darkness unfolds into light and limestone.

You'll land upright,

Gracefully even,

With feet on cobblestone,

Right in the middle of the campus of a university.

It's easy to get overwhelmed the first time you visit the university.

It's the only one of its like in the world.

Aside from its unusual location,

Accessible only through the confluence of the Seine and the Rhône,

However,

It doesn't appear too different from any storied university campus.

Stone buildings with impressive towers and tracery,

Great gathering halls and colonnaded courtyards.

At a glance,

It's as ordinary,

If magnificent,

As Oxford or Cambridge.

But look closer,

And round every corner you'll see students painting the skies with their wands,

Shooting sparks and sending spells of light.

You'll find groups gathered round to observe impossible creatures,

Unicorns,

Phoenixes,

Manticores.

You'll smell potions brewing from an unseen lab,

And in its sparkling halls you'll feel the crackle of magic,

Of untamed possibility,

Of the kind of energy you can only find at a confluence.

Welcome to the University of Enchanted Arts.

Today is orientation,

And you must admit you're a bit apprehensive.

The journey alone to get here was filled with twists and turns,

And then the long tumble through time and space.

But now that you're here,

You feel intimidated by the size of the place,

The endless paths throughout its quadrants,

The sea of faces that surround you,

And not a single one familiar.

You are new to this hidden world of magic and sorcery.

And though you've had a crash course in its whimsy,

You still feel like a leaf blown along on the wind through a miraculous dream.

Things like this don't just happen,

Not to you.

You consult the welcome letter in your hand,

Inscribed with your arrival instructions,

For a refresher on where to go.

The enchanted paper has written and rewritten itself on every step of your journey,

Guiding you through shopping for supplies and getting onto the right train to where you're going.

The letters rearrange themselves now until the paper reads,

Once you've arrived on campus for orientation,

Kindly step aside to accommodate others who may be accessing your designated entry point.

Puzzled,

But keen to do the right thing,

You take a large step to your left,

Your nose still buried in the parchment.

As if on cue,

You feel a whoosh of air and look up just in time to see another student,

School trunk clutched in her right hand,

Fall out of the sky and float like a flower petal from a cherry tree down onto the cobblestones beside you.

You catch her eye and she gives you a somewhat embarrassed grin.

Sort of thrilling,

Isn't it?

She says.

You agree,

Half-heartedly.

First year,

She inquires.

You nod.

Me too.

I'm Louisa.

And she holds out a hand to shake.

You advise her that at any moment another student might drop out of the sky and she laughs,

Scurrying out of the way.

Louisa thanks you for the inside tip,

Which you immediately admit is in the welcome instructions.

Having already built some rapport,

And realizing neither of you sees anyone you know,

You and Louisa decide to stick together as you learn to navigate your new environment.

You're grateful for the company.

There's a place to leave your school trunks to be taken to your dormitory.

After that,

Your first stop is the library,

Where you'll register for classes and pick up your books for the semester.

Your welcome letters transform,

Conveniently,

Into a map of the campus.

The library sits at the center of the university,

With other buildings and avenues spiraling outward from it,

Like the arms of a galaxy.

You follow the map,

Oohing and aahing at displays of magic along the alleyways,

Other new students trying out advanced spells,

Or upper class learners showing off for the incoming class.

When you reach the library,

You and Louisa both drop your welcome letters by your sides,

And you can hardly keep your jaw from dropping as well.

Slowly,

You lift your gaze to drink in every inch of the spectacular sight.

A long stairway and several curved ramps lead up to the main structure,

A towering rotunda wrapped in stately columns and intricate archways.

The materials are a mixture of limestone,

Making you think of Parisian boulevards and triumphal arches,

And a gold-flecked granite marble.

A shining golden dome and spiral tower extend into the sky,

And the façade is carved with elegant relief and hung with gargoyles like a gothic cathedral.

But these are like no gargoyle you've seen before.

They are equine and fishtail,

Or avian and lion-haunched.

Magic and myth seem to drip from the balconies of this glorious,

Gravity-defying building.

Even if you were an expert at architectural history,

You might struggle to define its style,

For indeed it seems to swim in and out of the most extravagant gothic,

Restrained classical,

Renaissance,

And even modern approaches.

Like many centuries stacked upon each other,

Building on each other and braiding together,

A confluence.

You are so moved,

So awestruck by the majesty of the exterior,

That several moments pass in silence as you drink it all in.

When at last you regain your bearings and prepare to enter the library,

Louisa asks if you might take the ramp as it's easier for her.

You have no objection,

For it affords you the chance to move in a clockwise spiral around the building's magnificent façade,

Taking in even more of its beauty as you go.

And the interior,

You can only gape some more.

Marble,

Gold,

And mahogany gleam throughout the sparkling atrium.

Countless floors wrap around the inside of the rotunda,

Fed by swiveling staircases that draw the eye this way and that.

You can glimpse infinite stacks,

A sunlit reading room,

And study nooks from your position.

But you imagine there is so much more you cannot see.

And that is all to say nothing of the pièce de résistance.

Here in the atrium,

A towering bronze statue of a mage enrobed in a starry cloak,

Arm extended with wand held high.

And if the monumental figure were not enough,

Hovering beneath the dazzling dome and feet from the figure's wand,

Is a kind of chandelier,

A sunburst made from thousands of tiny crystals or diamonds suspended.

Revolving in the air.

You can see no framework holding the shining shards together.

They must be bound by nothing but magic,

Glittering above the glorious library.

But you've come here for a reason,

You remember.

And it's not to merely gawk at the architecture of the campus and rampant displays of magical prowess.

All around the atrium,

Tables and booths are set up and staffed by professors,

Advisors,

And classmates.

Here you can learn about the many course offerings at the university and build your schedules.

It's all a bit overwhelming,

And you're glad to have a new friend by your side to give you courage to approach the tables.

You let Louisa lead the way.

She's been dreaming of attending the university for years and has a firm plan for her studies already.

She's most interested in the healing arts,

Potions,

Verbal studies,

And magical mending.

She has a foundation in the discipline already from her years at the School of Sorcery in the Scottish Highlands.

You,

On the other hand,

Are something of an anomaly at the University of Enchanted Arts.

You've no formal magical education,

But a natural magical proclivity.

As excited as you are to undertake this course of higher learning in sorcery,

You haven't yet decided on your path.

You've just begun.

There are courses on advanced herbalism,

Alchemy,

Protection magic,

Following Louisa from table to table to gather information on the courses.

You start to feel a little out of place,

Unsure if you belong.

Most of the other students you encounter or observe are more like Louisa,

Certain of their paths,

Steeped in elementary magical learning,

Confident in their abilities.

Shouldn't you know what you want to do with your education?

Shouldn't you have decided long before you ever came to the confluence?

You sign up for some of the less intimidating courses you find.

Introduction to Conjuring,

Kitchen Witchcraft,

Which appears to be a cooking class,

And a Survey of Mythology.

You procure your textbooks,

And a campus representative gives you a bag of holding in which to store them.

You're amazed to find that they all fit with room to spare,

Despite the small dimensions of the bag.

That's because it's bigger on the inside,

The staff member winks.

Useful trick,

Isn't it?

You have an idea that you're in for even greater marvels before the day is done.

Then you and Louisa come to the final table in the rotunda.

Unlike the others,

There's no one queuing up to register for this course.

The person sitting behind the booth has their cloak hood up and their nose in a book on dream oracles,

So you can't see any of their face,

And you suspect they like it that way.

A hand-drawn table sign reads,

Theory of Magic.

Something about it is alluring to you,

This underestimated,

Undersold offering.

There's a bit of mystery that calls to you,

And gives you the courage to approach.

What's Theory of Magic,

You ask,

After clearing your throat?

The seated individual lowers the book from their face.

She pulls the hood down to reveal golden eyes and curly black hair.

She doesn't look much older than a student,

But there's something ancient about her presence that you find strangely comforting,

Like sitting beneath a very old and deeply rooted tree.

She regards you and Louisa for a few moments,

Her expression inscrutable.

It's as if she's studying you,

Looking through your outward appearance to determine whether you're worthy of an answer.

Come closer,

She says,

Eyes on you.

You hesitate,

But then step forward,

So you stand just at the edge of the table.

Your hand,

She says.

You extend your arm,

And she takes your hand in hers,

Flipping it over as if she's going to read your palm.

But instead of studying the lifeline,

She presses down on the center of your palm,

And tugs gently on each of your fingers.

It's a funny sensation,

But noting the seriousness of her expression,

You stifle the urge to let out a nervous laugh.

You look at Louisa,

Who subtly shrugs but seems intrigued.

Finally,

The woman speaks again.

This is your wand hand,

She asks.

Oh,

You say.

I think so.

It's the hand I write with.

I mean,

I have a wand,

I just.

.

.

That's what I thought,

She says.

You've never used it.

Other than trying it in the shop,

No.

You say sheepishly.

The curly-haired woman considers for a moment,

And takes a deep breath.

My name is Professor Salamandra,

She says confidently.

I teach theory of magic,

Which,

If you ask your classmates,

Has a reputation for being the most difficult class at the University of Enchanted Arts.

I generally do not recommend it for first-year students,

However.

Um,

You interject.

I don't know if I'm ready for the hardest class.

I hardly know anything.

And at this,

Professor Salamandra cracks her first smile,

Even if it is a faint,

Brief flash of a smile.

Which is exactly why you're the ideal candidate for my course.

You are puzzled.

She senses it immediately.

You see,

She says,

Softening.

Theory of magic is all about the source.

About where our magic comes from.

It's a dive down the well of thousands of years of magical practice,

And the mysterious principles that make it work.

The myriad connections it has with the sciences,

The arts,

And the humanities.

Sadly,

It isn't taught anymore at the early education level,

With most schools jumping right into the practical and ignoring the theoretical.

The underlying frameworks of magic and sorcery.

Many students find that they can't get their heads around the theory.

That they aren't wired for it,

So to speak.

But someone like you,

You begin to understand.

For the first time,

You come to realize that your novice status,

Your recent introduction to the magical world,

Simmering beneath the ordinary one,

Is not a setback or a disadvantage,

But a gift.

You have an expansive view of magic,

And a nearly blank slate for knowledge.

And at the same time,

You carry skills and knowledge from the non-magical world that will only enrich your studies here.

You have so much to learn.

But you also have so much to give.

So much to teach your classmates.

And isn't that what this next step is all about?

Community.

Bringing fresh ideas together to expand your mind and skill set.

Broaden your view of the world,

From magic to science,

And everything in between.

This,

You're sure,

Is why the University of Enchanted Arts is built upon a confluence.

So,

Says Professor Salamandra,

Conjuring a quill with a flourish of her hand,

And holding it out to you.

Are you in?

You take the quill without hesitation,

And write your name on the register.

When you're finished,

Louisa moves in closer,

And takes the quill from your hand.

Me too,

She says.

Are you sure,

You ask.

She said it's the hardest class at the university.

So,

You'll have to tutor me,

Louisa smiles.

Besides,

Everything's easier with friends.

I can't say I disagree,

Says Professor Salamandra,

A twinkle in her eyes.

I look forward to seeing you both in class.

And she hands each of you a textbook from a stack on her table.

Louisa stashes hers in her bag straight away.

But you inspect yours on the way out of the library.

The Theory of Magic by Lunella Salamandra You read from the threaded cover.

She wrote it.

Straight from the source,

Louisa says,

Delighted.

This is going to be quite the semester.

Leaving the library,

You join a campus tour that's about to depart.

You admire the many spectacular buildings and green spaces,

Making note of ideal study spots.

There's a brilliant greenhouse and garden,

Especially designed for students of herbalism.

Louisa squeals at this.

You cruise by the potions labs with open arched windows for letting out the potent vapors.

A well-equipped observatory houses astronomy and astrology courses.

With a campus this size,

You might fear getting lost or being late for classes.

But the guide addresses this,

Showing you how to use the alleyways throughout the university.

Modeled on the traboules,

The secret passageways located throughout the city of Lyon outside,

These narrow corridors can be used for traversing great distances.

You can pass through one on the east end of campus and come out on the west in seconds.

I'd be vigilant,

Though,

Says the guide with a smirk.

The passages can get a mind of their own and play tricks once in a while.

I once went through one on the way to my alchemy final,

And it spat me out in the middle of the amphitheater during the spring concert,

Which reminds me,

All students are welcome to audition for the university choir.

By the end of the day,

You are worn out from all the activities and you're ready to retire to your dormitory for a good night's sleep.

Still,

You agree to join Louisa at the dining hall for supper.

She's arranged to meet some of her friends from the school of sorcery there,

And she wants you to meet them.

When you arrive,

Her friends have already snagged a table and as enthusiastic as they are to see her,

They seem just as excited to meet you.

You fill your plate from the buffet and join the group,

Merrily chatting away.

They seem to go out of their way to make you feel included,

As if you've always been part of their circle.

At one point,

Louisa mutters to you under her breath that back in school,

None of them were all that close,

But something about finding familiar faces in a new environment solidifies bonds you didn't know were there.

You're all figuring out this new chapter together after all.

And no one need do it alone.

A pleasant,

Tingling warmth settles over you as you come to a new realization.

The way you felt when you arrived,

That sense of being out of place or like an imposter.

You're not the only one who feels that way.

In fact,

It's probably more common here than not.

But as challenging as it may be to push through that feeling,

There's a magic to this moment.

At this starting point of a new venture,

That shared vulnerability can actually be a force to bring people together.

It's what made fast friends of you and Louisa and what brings you into this small tapestry of friends.

Because when we feel uncertain or out of place or unprepared,

That's what we need more than anything.

Friends.

Dusk falls on the University of Enchanted Arts as you and your new friends laugh and talk and speculate on what's to come in your first semester.

Tomorrow,

You'll step into your first class.

Maybe your wand hand will be unsteady with inexperience.

Maybe you'll struggle to keep up.

But maybe you'll excel in ways you can't imagine because your perspective is so unique.

Because you have so much to share.

It's like there's a halo of golden,

Shining potential enclosing you.

You have a feeling that in a few years,

You will look back on this moment and think of it as the best of times.

The start of something.

An education,

Yes.

A career,

Perhaps.

But most importantly,

A web of lifelong friendships.

A community with which to weather the toughest times.

To puzzle over the theory of magic.

Or get your hands dirty with kitchen witchcraft.

Or get lost in the campus passageways with.

At this moment,

You can almost see those future memories fuzzy and vague like an oracle's visions.

You can already feel their warmth,

Hardship,

Humor.

All time.

All memory.

All future occurrences live together beneath that halo.

That unbound sky.

A great,

Cosmic confluence.

You've only just begun.

Breathe deeply,

Filling the belly with cool,

Cleansing air.

Slowly exhaling,

Feeling your whole body melt into your space.

Softening.

Send your breath to the crown of your head.

Softening the scalp.

The forehead.

The temples.

The muscles of the face.

Unclench your jaw.

Relax the tongue away from the roof of your mouth.

And loosen and part the lips.

Breathe into the muscles of your neck.

Where your neck meets the shoulders.

Allowing the breath to carry away any excess tension here.

Relax in the shoulders,

The shoulder blades,

And upper arms.

Soften and breathe into the elbows.

The forearms.

The palms.

And the backs of the hands.

Sending breath into all the fingertips.

And allow all that tension that you're releasing to pour outward through the fingertips.

Visualizing little sparkles of magic light or fairy dust.

Breathe relaxation into the torso.

The chest.

And the belly.

Softening the hips.

The hip flexors.

Allowing any tension or stored emotion here to simply melt away.

Relax the thighs.

The knees.

Send your breath and softness to the ankles.

The heels.

The soles.

And tops of the feet.

All the way down into your toes.

Letting the tension flow outward from the tips of your toes.

Breathe.

And feel the whole body.

Nourished by the breath.

And tender here.

Relieved of tension.

Shaking off the day.

And any sense of insecurity.

You belong.

You are enough.

You are more than enough.

You have so much to give.