Wizards are master convincers.
Thousands of years of groundwork lain to allow spells to be cast easily enough with "magic words" and compenents.
Spells and schools as Points, centers of the universe.
A wizard convinces the entirety of everything that something impossible is actually the center of everything, and logic.
They give their case, showcasing sometimes an object, oftentimes gesture, almost always speak out a summary of their argument.
And everything believes them.
So it happens. A fireball explodes into existence, a girl's skin turns blue, someone disappears.
Magic
Once you Name something, it changes, and you have power over it. It becomes easier to understand in its whole. Simplified. Easy. Spells hate languages and contemplating minds on a visceral level. Those bastards would pull them through their aperture-senses, into their inland empires, mindscapes. Spells are cast as an escape, but a pale copy always remains; the mind is haunted by what was forgotten.
It is said by some, that the universe is folded in on itself, and we are merely its tiny sensory protrusions.
If that is so, then the spells are always free, and our delusions have spread to them. Do they return, or did they never leave?