It was a cold morning, the patter of a light drizzle tapped away on my bedroom window. I reached for my phone to check the time, it was only 07:03 AM. I still had plenty of time to get ready and get to the address on the business card.
At least I had an address to get to this time, but despite everything that happened yesterday I was still unsure. I hadn't completely ruled out the fact that I was finally going insane.
I got dressed, wearing the same navy suit I had worn for all of my interviews, completed with a standard black tie. I pulled my grey wool coat over my shoulders to fight back the brisk September weather.
It wasn't long before I left the warmth of my flat, my wallet and phone in my suit jacket pocket. The business card inviting me to attend the interview thumbed into my coat pocket as I locked the door behind me.
As I walked out onto the street I pulled my coat tighter around my shoulders, the grey haze of London stretching out in all of its dreary splendor. The city moved with its usual restless energy - black cabs weaving around buses, businessmen and women barking into their phones, street vendors setting up shop for the day.
I stood there for a moment, watching the wheels of the world turn.
The wheel kept turning.
Would anyone notice if I was gone?
I wasn't sure.
Maybe the barista at my usual coffee spot, the one who always remembered my name even though I had never asked for hers. Maybe my landlord, when the rent stopped coming in. But even that was a corporation, I was probably nothing more than an address and a paycheck to them.
And beyond that?
I was just another face in a city of millions.
I exhaled, shoving my hands into my pockets for warmth.
The business card was still there.
I ran my fingers along its surface, I had an interview today - I needed to get my head in the game.
I walked past my usual coffee shop, resisting the pull of my usual routine. The temptation to stop, to sit in my familiar seat by the window with a sweet coffee and pretend I wasn't about to get abducted or murdered, was almost overwhelming.
Instead, I exhaled, the warmth of my breath was visible against the cold air. I pressed on, the route programmed into my phone as I made my way to the location on the business card.
27 Ravenscroft Lane.
I made good time, arriving ten minutes early.
The building was disappointingly normal.
I don't know what I had expected. Some grand gothic monastery, or an archaic castle perhaps? Something that screamed otherworldly.
Instead, it looked like every other building on the street. Brick, windows, a black door. Completely unremarkable.
I hesitated as I approached the front door.
I suspected I probably wouldn't be murdered, but it all still seemed too surreal. I really didn't know what to expect on the other side of the door.
I couldn't see the doorbell, so I knocked.
The door creaked open as my fist made contact.
I took a deep breath.
Stepping forward-
Splash.
I jerked my foot back.
A puddle?
There hadn't been any rain this morning.
I looked up.
The building was gone.
The ordinary, bleak streets of London had been replaced by something impossible.
Before me stood a vast boarding school, a towering structure older than anything I had seen in a long while. The architecture was centuries old yet immaculate, the stone had weathered with age but stood strong and unchanged. I noticed a clock tower sat at the top of the building, its hand currently frozen at 08:50.
The air smelled different - refreshing, crisp and clean.
I turned around, half-expecting to see the doorway or the London streets behind me.
They weren't there.
Instead, a long gravel drive stretched toward a large iron gate, beyond which layer an expanse of rolling hills. Nothing looked even vaguely familiar.
Where the hell was I?
I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding against my eardrums.
There was a sign standing near a large set of steps towards the main entrance, elegant yet simple, pointing up to the front doors.
"<= Interview"
At this point I gathered that I had two options.
I could panic and run, or keep walking.
I chose the latter.
Inside, the grandeur continued.
High vaulted ceilings, towering bookshelves built into the walls, chandeliers that looked more expensive than I could imagine. The air was much warmer inside, a stark contrast to the streets of London I had left behind.
There was nobody waiting inside, no reception. Instead I followed signs through the hallways, my footsteps echoing on the polished wooden floors. The corridors stretched far too long, twisting and turning in ways that didn't seem architecturally sensible.
And yet, somehow, I found myself in front of the interview room.
The door was open.
Peering inside, I could see rows of desks filling the room - thirty, maybe forty. Half of them were already occupied by young men and women around my age. Some looked as confused as I felt, others sat with a quiet certainty that they were in the right place.
At the front of the room stood a woman, no taller than 5'3, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy bun. Her gaze flicked up to meet mine.
'You're late,' she said authoritatively.
I glanced at the clock on the wall.
08:56.
'I'm on time,' I replied.
The corner of her mouth quivered, as if amused by a joke I didn't understand.
'Take a seat,' she said, motioning towards the desks.
I entered the room, walking past the first couple of rows.
I noticed that each desk had a blank booklet. I sat down nearer to the middle of the room, taking my coat off and putting it on the back of my chair.
My fingers brushed against the cover of the booklet, it was noticeably warm and there was a pen sitting in the groove of the desk.
I sat waiting with the rest of the room, watching the clock. Occasionally someone would appear at the doorway looking dumbfounded.
After a similar exchange with the invigilator, they would then find a seat.
We waited until the clock ticked over to 09:00 exactly before she spoke again.
'You have exactly two hours.' Her voice was calm. 'Open your booklets, you may begin.'
I hesitated before looking down at the booklet.
Before my eyes words began to etch themselves on the front page of the booklet.
I blinked.
They definitely hadn't been there a moment ago.
I could smell the faint scent of ink, as though the letters had only just dried.
I exhaled sharply as I read the first line.
"Theoretical Entrance Examination - Assessment of Arcane Principles"
Below, a space had been left blank for my name.
I picked up the pen sitting on the table and scrawled my name into the gap provided: Daniel Caldwell.
As soon as my pen lifted, the ink shimmered - then sank into the page as if it was instantly absorbed by the paper.
I gulped.
What kind of fucking exam was this?
The instructions followed beneath:
"Answer as many questions as you can. There are no wrong answers, only revelations. Time remaining: 1 hour 59 minutes."
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as a chill ran down between my shoulders.
I snuck a glance at the room, gauging the reactions of the others.
Some already had their heads down, writing war and peace by the looks of it. As if the questions made perfect sense. Others hesitated, frowning at their booklets or looking dumbstruck.
I looked back down and turned the page.
The first question read:
"Describe the fundamental nature of mana. What and where is it?"
I could already tell this was going to be a headache.
Mana? Like in video games?
The second question wasn't any better:
"Explain the paradox of the veil and how it interacts with leylines."
What paradox? What veil? Leylines?
The third question sent a chill through my body:
"Describe your awakening experience."
My what?
I looked around again.
A young woman across the aisle- lean, sharp featured, with black-rimmed glasses - was scribbling rapidly, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. A man beside her tapped his chin thoughtfully before nodding to himself and continuing to write.
I had never felt more out of place.
And yet, I got the impression that if I left, I would probably never remember any of this even happened.
"No wrong answers, only revelations."
Fine.
I tapped my pen against my fingers before setting it down to write.
"Describe the fundamental nature of mana. What and where is it?"
I hesitated.
Then, slowly, I wrote:
"The energy required for magic. It's like the force, mana is everywhere."
"Explain the paradox of the veil and how it interacts with leylines."
"I don't know what any of this means."
"Describe your awakening experience."
I paused.
I shouldn't have had anything to write.
And yet…
I recalled the events yesterday on the tube.
The way time had frozen.
The man in the brown suit.
Before I realised, my pen was moving:
"Yesterday, time stood still. I was the only one who could move. There was an older man too, he said this university could explain why I felt like I don't belong in the world and told me to come here."
I lifted my pen.
The ink shimmered again, sinking into the page.
I could feel the booklet reacting.
On the opposite page, page 3, new words had appeared.
"Please continue."
I stared at the page.
What the fuck?
That page had been blank a second ago.
I turned to the next page.
More questions, each more incomprehensible than the last:
"Question 4) If a mage's grimoire is a mirror of the soul, what does an empty page signify?"
"Question 5) What binds a contract between a mage and a spirit?"
"Question 6) What power does the true name hold over eldritch entities?"
I forced my breathing to slow.
Was this meant to be an impossible test? To see how people react under pressure?
This whole situation was beginning to feel like I was in a Kobayashi Maru scenario.
Maybe they wanted to see how I thought rather than what I knew.
I tried my best.
Or should I say, I wrote my own wild theories and guesses. Piecing together logic where I could and outright admitting ignorance where I had nothing.
The clock at the front of the room continued ticking away.
The invigilator at the front of the room finally called time, my fingers were stiff and ached from writing.
'Pens down,' she said, her authoritative tone leaving no room for argument.
I sent my pen aside.
The booklets slowly slid closed on their own.
'Congratulations to those of you remaining, you have passed the first stage of the interview.' she announced.
It was then that I noticed the majority of the candidates had left. I hadn't even noticed them leave.
'Remain in your seats.' she continued as she studied the room. 'The faculty will call for you individually when they are ready.'
I sighed, I had a feeling that the real interview was only just beginning.