“The first principle of curses is emotion,” intoned the great and powerful magus Michael. “Infusing your mana with circuitry is enough for the common mage’s fireball, but intent is required for a curse.”

  Riley uttered a muffled curse.

  “What’s that?”

  Riley attempted to call Michael’s mother some very not-nice names, though unsuccessfully.

  “You have a question?”

  Riley chair swung forward and back precariously as the boy shook with anger.

  “Ah, let me lower the silence wards.” By silence wards, Michael meant the strip of duct-tape he’d slapped on his disciple’s mouth, which he promptly ripped off.

  Riley shrieked with pain. “You fucking sonuva—!”

  “And the silence wards go back on!”

  The wooden chair Riley was tied to rattled with his anger.

  “Let us resume our lessons. As you have just demonstrated, you have strong emotions in spades.” Michael rapped on the chalkboard rather unsuccessfully with his rubbery knuckle. “I’ve drawn out a basic figure of how to circulate your mana here. Follow these simple paths to reach perfection!”

  The fuck? These aren’t simple at all?! The chalkboard, partially due to Michael’s frog-like hands and partially due to his lack of artistic ability, looked as if you’d set a class of five year old loose with chalk. It looked like very colorful spaghetti.

  Riley was getting very angry, which was strange, because Riley considered himself a very calm and practical person. Something about his situation though—being kidnapped, attacked by canine grandmothers and football tackled by anthropomorphic frogs—made him frustrated.

  Things like fights? Those were meant to be solved with your fists! And sometimes your legs, if you wanted to sweep their legs, but the point was, Riley thought magic was all well and good in fantasy, but in this new reality of his, it wasn’t.

  Violence was something Riley was a natural at. Reading the flow of a fight? It was like reading words off a page. But this new world he’d stumbled into was… whimsical. Wolf grandmas, talking frogs… and the shitty class he’d been given. It was all so… carefree. That wasn’t right. It belonged in some pissy chapter book for elementary schoolers.

  Michael was saying something, something about how Riley should be able to feel the mana core in his gut and gather the energy. Complex diagrams all dedicated to some cutesy little fake of happiness. Strict flows of magic to cast a spell concocted millennia ago, in a teaching curriculum designed to suppress creativity and glorify the outdated achievements of one’s forebears.

  Riley hated how Michael thought Riley would just roll over and help him on a stupid cure for a stupid fucking curse that these stupid fucking imbeciles probably deserved. He hated how fucking happy and whimsical this world seemed, so uncaring of the fucking consequences of messing with the wrong fucking person. He hated the system for fucking mislabeling him as the wrong fucking gender. And he hated himself most of all, for ever thinking of letting them get away with it.

  Michael grinned smugly as a vein bulged out of Riley’s forehead. “You look pretty angry. Figures, as I’ve been influencing you with this handy Orb of Fervor.”

  Riley’s anger only grew as the frog pulled out a red orb from the layers of their black robes. This motherfucking Caribbean amphibian wannabe has been influencing my emotions?

  At Riley’s enraged expression, Michael’s smirk grew wider. “Any curse practitioner worth their salt will have to be able to tap into strong emotions to power said curses. Consider this a sort of practical training. My master did such a thing to me when I was an apprentice, and his master did to him. Just think, one day you’ll be able to fling curses capable of spreading and plaguing entire kingdoms, all without the slightest effort. You’ll be good at it, too, if your absurd emotion production level is of any sign. Still though, it wouldn’t be the first time one of my apprentices tried to betray me because of my more… controversial methods, so I play things safe with an Enslavement Collar.”

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  The rather fat, cutesy-looking frog pulled out a scarlet collar with some concerning dark stains that looked like blood. Riley flinched from the ominous feeling it gave him. He growled through his gag.

  “Hah,” chuckled Michael evilly, “What? Did you just feel how much mana is roiling off this thing? Probably scared you? You and all those other fucking cretins. This dumb fucking kingdom let me waltz right through and experiment and torture all I wanted! Too bad that shitty king denounced my experiments when I told him about them. But I suppose it’s fine, after all, I cursed all of them to become frogs! And unlike those imbeciles, I didn’t fall prey to the symptoms! Ha! Hahaha! Ha… heh…”

  He cursed all those people, thought Riley dully. The realization didn’t seem to have the impact it deserved. Riley felt… numb. Like a raft in the middle of a storm, it took all his willpower not to explode with anger. Literally. It felt like his body was swelling, the rage Riley was feeling having nowhere to go.

  So Riley decided to cast a curse. He hated his current situation. He hated the stupid frog that was Michael. He hated everything. But what did he actually want?

  I hate that I know that if I’m given enough time, I’ll forget what wrongs the world has committed against me. I hate that I’ll forget all the terrible things that happen. I hate that I’ll forget.

  I hate that I’ll forget.

  I hate that I’ll forget.

  Riley gasped for breath. He couldn’t breathe. For a moment, putting all of his rage in a curse had eased the burden, but it was like the new curse had just increased the rate at which his rage increased.

  His rage was like fire. All-consuming, and capable of mass destruction on everything it saw. To control it was folly. All he could do was barrel forward and hoped he hit something to slow its destruction.

  Michael’s eyes widened at the aura of an Outer God surrounding Riley. With a flick of his slimy hands, the Enslavement Collar was on Riley’s neck. Submit, called the collar, pounding a persistent throb in Riley’s head. It took all of Riley’s willpower to fend off the calls of servitude for even a few seconds

  But Never Forgive, Never Forget wouldn’t go down without a fight. Riley gritted his teeth, blood streaming out of his nose as the Enslavement Collar and Never Forget duked it out in his head, the Collar demanding submission and the curse demanding blood.

  But what about what Riley wanted?

  Enough, Riley commanded. He wouldn’t tolerate anything to manipulate him.

  Riley ripped himself free of his bindings, blood streaming out of his eyes as he stared rage into Michael’s eyes. The Enslavement Collar hit the ground, fizzling as it met its match.

  “Motherfucking frogs.”