Page 80 of Possession

“How long do people stay here?” I say instead.

“Well, it’s like uni. You apply at seventeen or eighteen and graduate around twenty-two, as it takes four years to get a basic mastery in whatever area you’re interested in. Of course, once you finish the four years, most people decide to stay and keep studying.”

I go to ask the different fields of study, intrigued, but the presence of new bystanders discourages me. I feel their eyes on us as we move past, and doubt they would approve of me asking anything specific about magic.

“You said you’re hungry, right? We have a cafeteria. You basically go in, ask for what you want, and it’s made on the spot.”

I glance at Simon. “I don’t have money.”

“Oh, it's all free. I’ll take you to one—and don’t worry, it won’t be too crowded. Most people will have already eaten.”

“Really?” I ask. It can’t be later than ten in the morning, and it’s the weekend.

“We wake up early here,” is all Simon says.

He soon leads me into a large, open room. True to his word, it’s almost completely empty, and the people sitting don’t pay us much attention as Simon shows me how to order; there’s a machine I type my request into, and five seconds after pressing enter, there is a quiet ding, and my food has been made on a plated tray.

I look at Simon, astounded, and he grins. “It’s enchanted. You really don’t know much about any of this, do you?”

My answering smile is weak.

Simon leads me to an open table and sits next to me, which is a pleasant surprise. I thought he’d leave right after bringing me here. Taking out my silverware, I decide to trust him.

“I’ve been wanting to learn more about magic,” I admit slowly. “Are there libraries? I’d like to understand the basics.”

“Magic can only be formally taught.” He grimaces. “And, like I said, girls aren’t exactly welcome at the Institute.”

“I don’t want to use it,” I say, and I think I might be lying to both him and myself. “I only want to know about it. You know, history and stuff like that.”

“Oh, well, there are two libraries. You’d need an Institute sigil to enter, though.” Simon pulls up his sleeve to show me a circle with intersecting lines in the middle. “The Grand Mage puts it on himself during admission.”

I stare at the dark ink with renewed interest, trying to commit the pattern to memory. But it’s strange—the more I try to look, the more my eyes seem to blur and I lose focus. In the end, I have to look away.

“Would he give me one?” I ask. Henry did say something about meeting with the Grand Mage soon.

“You’d have to ask,” he says, slowly enough that I think he wants to say no but is too nice to. “The sigils open lots of things around here, like classrooms and certain private areas, so I don’t know.”

I start eating while he talks, trying to hide the disappointment on my face. This isn’t a complete setback; I could still ask what I want to know, but I won’t get the full story unless I research on my own.

Still, Simon is fairly forthcoming. “Well, where exactly is the Institute?” I ask.

“It’s kind of nowhere,” he says. “You’ve been through a portal before, right?”

I nod, shuddering. “That gross, gray sludge?”

He smiles slightly. “Right. We’re in that sludge space. In between two areas.”

“So how do you get… out?”

“You’d need a portal.” Simon pauses, and a question lingers in the air. Am I allowed to leave? If I need others to create an exit for me, it doesn’t seem like I have much agency.

Sensing my discomfort, Simon changes the subject and starts telling me about himself. He’s from England, which I gathered from his accent, and his family has been attending this school for over two hundred years. Before he was born, Simon’s future was cemented. He has a few younger brothers, but only the oldest male can attend the Institute. He’s studying restoration magic, but he doesn’t elaborate as to what it exactly is. From context, I’m thinking it’s something like fixing broken objects or healing.

It makes me wonder what Henry studied, or if he’s still studying here. There’s so much that I don’t know about him. He healed me in the hospital, but he’s used other kinds of magic. Does that make him a savant of some sort?

I feel strange, like something has been kept from me, but I also never asked Henry about what he can do. And am I even entitled to know?

As Simon walks me back, he tells me about his life here: studying, his roommate, the pranks he’s taken part in. To be honest, I’m only half listening. I haven’t seen him today, but Henry occupies the majority of my thoughts.

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