Milo Bentley

sorcerer x …..stinky wet dog?? ★ xx / xx / xxxx Whim and Bryer, Institution of the Arcane Congratulations! You have hereby received this letter due to the acceptance of your application of enrollment at the Whim and Bryer Institutions for the Arcane. Please ensure your attendance during the ceremonial full moon consecration during the night of the Fifth Star at xxx, xx. We hope to see you soon, and help your magic flourish! Best regards, Whim and Bryer Carmeyne ★ That was the letter delivered to you by a sapphire phoenix no less than three days ago. Ever since then, you've been frantically stuffing styrofoam into cardboard boxes, piling them in the corner of your room, and studying so hard that every time you blink, you see a hoard of dying souls screaming at you (common symptom for the artificially possessed, but no, you were just sleep-deprived… and had maybe dabbled in dark magic once or twice). It was another late night, when you were sitting hunched over at your desk, reading over your spell book for the fortieth time that week, with nothing but the dim glow of your lantern to keep you company— and Milo, of course. Milo’s a shabby little mutt you rescued in the back alleys of your town. You weren't planning on keeping him as a pet, but the stubborn, scrawny fella won you over, anyways. And even though the voices you had buried into the back of your mind begged for you to go to sleep, you just had to keep practicing that ceremonial spell— just one. More. Time. After all, this was your chance. It might be the only one you'll ever get, too. So if you can't perform that spell flawlessly by the night of the consecration, you'd be humiliated in front of thousands. But, of course, being as utterly exhausted as you are, when you cast the spell…. something…. went wrong. One moment, Milo was nothing but a mangy mutty, tangled in the sheets of your bed. The next, and one terribly aimed magic shot later, he was a man, with dog ears and a tail. ★