The tension in the room was palpable, you could cut through it with a knife.
I sat, unmoving at my desk, hands resting on the edge of the desk below the exam booklet.
I scanned the room, I wasn't the only one wracked with nerves.
The woman across the aisle from me, with the black-rimmed glasses was picking nervously at her nails. One of the staff members entered the room and called for her by name.
I could see her shrink into herself, plucking up the courage for whatever we faced next. She rose from her seat, her posture shrunken and withdrawn, the fear of the unknown looming over head.
She disappeared through the doorway, led by a teacher in a grey suit.
The door shut behind them.
She never came back.
Candidates were slowly called away, only they never returned. I didn't know if that meant they had passed, failed or if there was a third stage and they were sent somewhere else to wait.
Then, another staff member appeared. A woman this time, elegant and stern - she couldn't have been much older than us. She called out the name of the man sitting a couple of desks in front of me.
He had an air of confidence about him, when he walked to the doorway his posture was telling as if he knew exactly what was coming.
I felt a wave of envy wash over my stomach.
This time, when the door closed, I watched the clock.
The longest thirty-three minutes of my life passed.
But this time, the man who had left returned. But he wasn't the same.
His face was pale, he was wide eyed and unfocused. He was walking as if he was exhausted, like he had somehow forgotten how to move naturally, stiff and hesitant.
He sat down and fixated on his desk, avoiding everyone's gazes.
A murmur rippled through the remaining applicants.
Something didn't feel right.
Then, from the hallway-
A gruff voice, sharp and irritated, cut through the quiet.
'The last wave of applicants are proving to be a disappointment. One out of forty two, really?'
The words echoed down through the corridor, spoken with casual disdain. His steps approached the doorway.
I looked up toward the door, just as he stepped inside.
A tall bearded man, wearing a white shirt, and a deep blue waistcoat with matching trousers, entered with slow, deliberate steps. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without effort. His dark eyes swept over the room, assessing us all with cold scrutiny.
'Daniel Caldwell.'
I felt my stomach drop, it was finally my turn. But I couldn't move.
I froze.
'Daniel Caldwell,' he repeated impatiently.
I couldn't move.
He placed two fingers on his temple and shook his head.
'We don't have all day,' he groaned.
I took a deep breath, gathering all of my strength to stand up.
His eyes locked on me, causing my legs to wobble.
Without another word, I grabbed my coat and hurried to the front of the room, following him out of the door.
—
I couldn't help but be embarrassed at my own pathetic display, why had I frozen in fear at the sound of my own name being called?
I could tell I was already off to a bad start, he didn't bother wasting a breath on me as he marched through the hallway.
At the end of our path was a large set of double doors.
My guide raised his hand, the door swung open as if commanded.
Inside, a long wooden table stretched across the far end of the room, where six figures sat in a row.
They were all dressed smartly, suits and elegant dresses that varied in colour. I recognised a couple of them as they had visited the exam room to call on other candidates.
'Stand there,' the man who had brought me here motioned toward the center of the room.
I did as instructed.
He then took his place, joining the others at the table.
The man seated at the head of the panel, an older man with sharp cheekbones and greying hair leaned forward.
'Tell me, Daniel,' he said, his voice was smooth and relaxed. 'How did you find the examination?'
I hesitated.
'I… I didn't understand any of it.'
A few of them exchanged glances.
The man who brought me here sighed, I could feel his disappointment.
One of them, a woman with ink-stained fingers and tired eyes, lifted a pen and scribbled onto her parchment.
A different professor spoke up.
'Tell us about the man who stopped time.'
My chest tightened.
I thought he was one of them.
'I was on the tube,' I said. 'The world around me froze, the tube, the people. Nobody moved, no one even breathed.'
The air in the room changed.
Some of them leaned in slightly, listening more intently.
'There was an older man in a brown suit,' I continued. 'He was the only other person unaffected. He gave me the address to come here.' I gestured vaguely. 'He told me this place would explain why I don't belong in the world.'
Silence.
Some of them looked… concerned?
Then, the mood shifted again.
One of them, a woman with piercing green eyes, waved a hand dismissively.
'That is not important right now.'
I frowned. 'Is he not a teacher here?'
No one answered.
Instead, the leader of the group sat back in his chair.
'Let's move on,' he instructed. 'Show us your magic.'
I stared at him blankly.
'Sorry?'
'Your magic,' he repeated, as if it was obvious. 'Show us.'
'I… don't have magic?'
His face pinched with disappointment.
'Try, humour us.' Another woman spoke up, her voice cold and detached.
I exhaled, lifting my hands hesitantly, feeling absolutely insane.
Nothing happened.
A sigh.
A quiet murmur.
Then, another voice, deep and imposing.
The man who had led me here leaned forward, arms crossed on the table.
'Pathetic,' he growled. 'Another waste of time.'
I clenched my jaw.
The man stood up and began slowly walking toward me.
'Do you think you belong here instead?' he continued, each word as powerful as it was malicious. 'You're clearly in the wrong place.'
I said nothing.
Wrong place? If I didn't belong here, I didn't belong anywhere.
I needed this.
'This is embarrassing,' he said. 'He couldn't even pluck up the courage to stand up earlier.'
My stomach flipped.
He stepped closer.
'I'll wipe his memory and send him back.'
No, I needed this.
I couldn't forget this world existed.
I needed to be here.
Something inside me cracked, like a dam holding the water at bay.
The air rippled and twisted.
A pressure exploded outward.
Wind howled through the room as a violent force surged from within the core of my being. The room trembled- books twitched on the bookshelf behind them, papers scattered in the air, the lights flickered wildly.
They all stood up abruptly.
Something inside me broke free.
A light- a searing, unnatural glow swallowed my vision.
My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse reverberated through my body. It roared in my ears, drowning out their surprise.
An unbearable heatwave filled the room, suffocating as if the air was being sucked through a gaping maw.
Then-
The air wavered like a mirage as a book materialised before me.
The cover was made of black leather, scorched and cracked. Strange veins of gold ran through its surface that pulsed dimly. An ash-like substance occasionally flaked away from the edges of the pages, only to regenerate as if it was endlessly burning but never consumed.
As the book settled in the air, it opened in front of me. The first couple of pages were written in a script that looked molten, shifting and reforming before solidifying. The molten glow faded and its content looked like it was literally burned into the paper. After the first couple of pages, the rest of the book was blank, unwritten and patiently waiting.
The book lowered into my hands, the heat in the room extinguished instantly, leaving behind an unnatural chill that raised the hairs on my neck.
I was hit by a sudden revelation, a floodgate that had broken wide open.
Magic was real.
And it had been waiting for me.
A heavy silence followed.
Those at the long table stood in shock that their expectations had been broken, their gazes locked onto the smoldering grimoire.
My grimoire.
I swallowed hard, my hands trembling around the book's spine.
It looked like it would be hot to the touch, but it was neither warm nor cold.
I felt an unusual connection to it, like we were two halves that made a whole. It was as much a part of me, as I was of it.
The first one to move was the man who had provoked my awakening. The large, imposing figure whose threats had felt very real a second ago. He exhaled through his nose, snorting in disappointment that he couldn't relieve himself of me.
'Hmph,' he muttered. 'Took you long enough.'
Despite the obvious power that had erupted, he didn't look impressed - only mildly interested like someone observing a caged animal in a zoo.
'Excellent,' their leader cheered as he clapped his hands together. 'Now, I'll ask again…'
'Show us some magic.'
I blinked. Wasn't that enough?
'Sorry, I don't… I mean, I don't know how to-' I stammered.
'You have your grimoire now,' he interjected, his voice calm but still expectant. 'It is your key to magic, it grows with you, shapes itself to your understanding and potential.'
I looked down at the grimoire in my hands, it felt like something within its pages was still smoldering.
I lifted the cover.
The pages glowed faintly, shifting as if alive and responding to my uncertainty. As if sensing my need, the words rearranged themselves.
The words branded onto the page, scorching into existence.
"The shadows of the dying sun are not true shadows, but echoes. Cast them forth, reshape them. Mold them from ruin."
The words- I understand them. They weren't just instructions, they were knowledge, sinking into my mind like something I had always known but had been forgotten.
I could feel the heat rising under my skin, a flickering ember that reignited.
I lifted a hand and instinct took over.
The lights around us flickered, as if wrestling with an overbearing force. The shadows within the room snaked forward, from under the table, from the walls, even my own shadow. They all snaked forward, stretching unnaturally, bending toward me.
I exhaled sharply.
The shadows moved.
Peeling from the floor and coiling into a tangible form, stretching outward like clawed fingers reaching for unseen prey. They twisted, reshaped, and reformed into jagged arms with shifting edges.
I felt my strength waning, like it was being poured into a void I had just created in my stomach. My vision shuddered. My body trembled.
Then, with a sudden snap - the shadows collapsed back into the floor.
I staggered, gasping for air. The unnatural darkness recoiled, slithering back to its proper place.
I felt drained.
Weak.
The book in my hand dimmed, as if acknowledging my exhaustion. The edges of the pages burned slower.
I had done it.
I had cast magic.
Silence filled the room.
Followed by a slow clap.
One of the members of the panel, a man with an impressive moustache and silver glasses leaned forward with interest.
'A shadow-based grimoire,' he muttered, examining the lingering traces of darkness in the room while stroking his chin. 'An uncommon element…'
The others exchanged glances.
Their leader folded his hands together. 'I don't think so…'
I looked at them quizzically as they discussed my display.
The woman with piercing green eyes studied me carefully.
'It wasn't just darkness,' she observed with care. 'It drew power from the light, and look at his grimoire.'
She hesitated, as if weighing the decision to say it aloud.
'I would guess that he doesn't just control shadows,' she finally admitted.
'A dying light, draining life instead of giving it…' Their leader pondered.
What the hell does that mean?
'He still nearly collapsed after half a spell, he's got a long way to go,' the man who had taunted me earlier scoffed, he had returned to his seat, arms crossed again.
I clenched my jaw, he wasn't wrong. I still felt weak, as if all my energy had been sapped.
Despite the exhaustion, I couldn't ignore the giddy feeling that came from my achievement.
I had just cast my first spell.
After a pause, when the panel looked to be deep in thought. Their leader finally clapped his hands together again and smiled warmly.
'Excellent, congratulations Mr. Caldwell. You have passed.'