Chapter I: Changes & Assholes

Julia did a magic trick. Everybody noticed.

As far as she could tell, the written preliminary exam at this, er… Brakebills was personal, customized to each potential student in the room. And even further, it was thoroughly incomprehensible and totally stressful, even for someone who loved the rush of a pop quiz. That didn't mean it wasn't intriguing. The rapidly moving and changing pages forced her to act on instinct, ripping out something urgent from within. This made sense. The goal was to prove an innate talent, not test-taking talent.

Magical talent, she thought, the notion buzzing wildly against the top of her skull. And with that giddy notion, she accidentally sent her booklet, and all the booklets in the room, floating into the air.

"Control yourself." The dean at the front of the room barked and did a quick hand motion. Three fingers—pointer, middle, and ring, tight triangle—in a fast swoop downward, and all the booklets flew back down to their original place.

But every eye was suddenly on her, and Julia realized her own fingers were still making sparks. Her excitement was a little obvious, she guessed. Q always said she wore her heart on her sleeve, and apparently that's where her magic lived too. The dean barked again, louder this time ("Focus!") Julia suppressed a smile and a glint of victory as she returned to her own diligent work.

She was the first to finish the exam. The more things change, she couldn't help but think, now letting out a proud grin. She always made tests her bitches. Respectfully, of course, and it was always a lovely, consensual harem. But deep down, they all knew who was boss.

Glancing around the room, she found Q hunched over his desk like a starved hoarder, his hands and pencil moving wildly with his eyebrows. His long face was lined with desperation and he never felt her gaze. No one wanted magic more than Quentin Coldwater, and Julia was… happy that it was something they could share together.

Mostly happy.

Definitely not unhappy.

Next to Q was a pretty blonde girl with glasses. She put her pencil down next—second to finish, with only a few seconds' lag behind Julia—and sat back, frowning. Unlike Q, she felt Julia's gaze instantly and furrowed her brow suspiciously. Their eye contact was tense; the blonde's lips pursed and she shook her head, like a subtle warning. Julia tried to smile at her (I come in peace, lady), but received a glared in return. The blonde closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. It was like she was facing her execution instead of the most exciting and incredible experience to ever happen to anyone ever.

Shrugging, Julia turned around and paid her no more mind. There was magic. And Julia was about to embark on all that it had to offer.

She passed her magical assessment with flying colors. Literally. Julia was so thrilled and anxious in front of the committee that she somehow sucked the colors from the room through her hands and built a floating machine-kinda-thingy, like a bridge or a platform. Then it levitated her into the air and shrouded her in dazzling colors, brighter than their source even. The dean seemed to find it impressive, but one of the other professors—Liston or something like that; a healer—snarked that it was "a bit twee" for her tastes. Luckily for her, Julia was still metaphorically levitating out of sheer joy or she would have told the cunt that nobody fucking asked for her opinion.

But again, she was thrilled. Excited. Cloud nine. Lots of floating. And hey, maybe levitating was her thing.

Julia paused in front of her dorm room (a dorm room! Like undergrad! Like Hogwarts!) and took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the sparkle she could feel in every molecule. Magic was real. Magic was real. Magic was real. She went to turn the knob to the next wonderful chapter of her life, when a confident voice broke through her reverie.

"Well, hello there." The human embodiment of a perfectly arched eyebrow stood uncomfortably close to Julia. "You're the one who made all the booklets fly during the exam, and then conjured up some goddamn Asgardian shit, c'est ça?"

"I thought our assessments were private." Julia wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly and unnervingly defensive. She had famously thick skin, but something about the stunning woman standing in front of her made her guard shoot up.

"Oh, honey," the smile was painted and poisonous. "Nothing is private at Brakebills. You'll learn to put up some wards around your real deep web shit, but otherwise, it's all in the family, baby."

"And you are…?"

"Margo." She smiled wider, more dangerously, and looked Julia up and down. "And based on what Lipson was blabbing about, you're almost certainly a Physical Kid. Powerful too. Mama like."

"That professor talked to you? About other students? About me?"

Margo waved her hand like Julia's concern was unimportant. "I came to find you and save you from dorm hell, since you'll be living with us in a hot sec anyway."

Julia's cheeks burned. "I'm disappointed in Professor Liston. Honestly, that's really unprofessional and—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, crusader." Margo held up a perfectly manicured hand. "Lip-son is just a jealous bitch, like all the jealous bitches that ever lived in their little jealous bitch worlds. Don't waste your precious time, truly. Own it, love it, rub your talent in her dick-sucking-stuck-at-Brakebills face."

"What I'm saying is—"

"And what I'm saying is you're a hot piece of ass being taken to an actual fun place by an even hotter piece of ass. Don't worry about the boring bullshit." Margo snaked her arm through Julia's. "Come with me, in whatever way you please."

"I haven't even moved my stuff in yet." Julia gestured toward her door as Margo quite forcefully pulled her away. "Or met my roommate."

"This is a temp living space, girl. Besides, your roommate is a psychic loser. She'll flunk out in a day, promise."

"Well, I'd like to find that out for myself." She stopped abruptly and tried to pull away from Margo, who tilted her head and squinted her eyes, her nails still digging into Julia's forearm.

"Okay, can't push you around much," she said. "Noted."

"At all." Julia yanked again, freeing herself from Margo's claw-like grasp. "I'm not signing up to be your minion or whatever Mean Girl shit you're trying to pull here."

"Ooh, yes, I'm Regina George, burn." She rolled her eyes. "That's called internalized misogyny, sweetcakes, look it up."

"Don't be condescending. Do you think you're smarter than me? Because—"

"Look, we have a party cottage on the east side of campus where you can hang with the grown-ups after you're done with your little C.S. Lewis righteous indignation cosplay." Margo offered back that poison smile and brushed her long dark hair behind her shoulders. "Come make rainbow bridges to other realms with us. Or not. I don't really care."

And with that, she spun on her too-high heels and sauntered away, her hips swaying with the kind of confidence Julia had never actually seen in real life. Apparently, even at Brakebills, awful, intimidating girls still existed. Who knew?

The more things change, she thought again.

"The more they stay the same. I met her earlier. She sucks." A deep voice echoed, making her jump a little. She turned around, and a tall Indian man with tousled mohawked hair and a hipper-than-thou tank top smirked at her as he leaned against the hallway wall across from her room.

"Did you just read my mind?" Julia was starting to think that these people had no sense of boundaries at all. Unlike Margo though, this guy at least had the decency to look a little chastened.

"Uh, yeah. Thought you said it out loud. Your voice is…it's different. Sorry."

"Well, maybe you should figure out how to make sure in the future, instead of assuming." She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips into a wane grin.

For a brief second, the man's eyes dropped down with what looked like humiliation. But when they locked back on hers, any hint of the vulnerability she could have sworn she saw was gone. His eyes were shielded with a laser-focused smugness. He nodded curtly and craned his neck to look behind her, toward the door.

"You're not Anna then, I guess?" He was all business. At Julia's headshake, he cursed under his breath. "Well, when she gets here, can you tell her Penny's trying to find her? We're paired together or something."

Panic grabbed her heart. "Wait, did I miss an assignment? Does everyone have a partner? I didn't receive the materials."

"You're fine, Pride Parade." He was laughing a little, and it wasn't exactly sweetly. So apparently everyone had heard about the whole rainbow thing. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be the fuckin' star student, little favorite teacher's pet here too."

"Stop reading my mind!"

Penny squared his shoulders as he stepped toward her, armor if she'd ever seen it. He dipped his mouth against her ear, his lips almost grazing her skin and his breath warm and sweet on her neck. His five o'clock shadow filled the space between their cheeks and electricity sizzled in the small heat wave their almost touching skin created. Julia felt dizzy despite all her best instincts.

"I wasn't. You're obvious." He chuckled, a deep vibration that reached her chest, and the dizziness increased before crashing back to earth as he pulled away, his eyes narrowed and dark. Okay, so this guy is a jerk too. Backing away from her with a swagger and a wink, Penny waved goodbye with an unnatural pep.

"See ya around, Nerd Girl," he said, giving Julia her new least favorite nickname, and Q's dad used to call her The Wicked Wicker of the West. Then he left, almost like he'd never been there, leaving Julia steaming in his wake.

Okay, so this guy is actually a huge fucking jerk.

Centering herself, she took several deep breaths as she contemplated Brakebills' apparent official Asshole Day. Okay. This was fine. She finally opened her dorm room door and stepped through, slightly disappointed at the bare-bones white cinderblock room. Nothing interesting to look at, so she was stuck with her inward thoughts about rapid-fire introduction to the school's less savory social side.

Julia had to admit that at least Margo was at least kind of ballsy. Sure, she was obviously a narcissistic nightmare, but she could deal with that and even enjoy it, albeit in small doses.

Penny, though.

She knew guys like Penny. Simply put, he was just, completely, totally—

"Such a dick. Seriously, no, he-he's really such a dick. Call the presses, news alert, I live with the Mayor of Dickville."

Later, as Julia sat in a dusk-lit coffee shop near the cafeteria, moved in and secure, her hands encircled a warm mug as Quentin ranted in his cute little timid Quentin way. She smiled warmly at her oldest friend and wondered why she'd ever been hesitant about having him with her on this journey. He was as familiar as an old sweatshirt, and his friendship was even cozier.

"Yeah, apparently Brakebills doesn't have a Welcome Wagon, but more like the 'We All Suck' Wagon." Julia was tired (had she really not known about magic that morning?) and wasn't feeling particularly clever. Q either didn't notice or didn't say anything. He leaned forward, his brow furrowed in utmost seriousness.

"He took my book, Jules. That new Fillory book, remember? H-he just took it. What a dick."

"Ouch, yeah, that's not surprising." She flinched and took a sip of coffee. "He doesn't exactly seem like someone who'd be open to adults reading kids' books."

Quentin's eyes flashed then, and he sat back in his chair. The muscles in his jaw spasmed a little (honestly) overdramatically as he stared into the ground beyond her chair leg. Julia almost groaned. She knew this game. He wanted her to engage him, to ask him what she said wrong. For years, she fell for it, every single time, begging him to open up, to talk to her, to forgive her for whatever perceived slight she'd enacted on poor little Quentin Coldwater this time. Hook, line, sinker.

Well, not anymore. She was older now. More self-possessed. And she was finally about to harness the power she'd always known was inside her, but she always felt too arrogant to acknowledge. And this, this was why she wasn't totally looking forward to sharing her time at Brakebills with Q. The more things change…

"Look, I get that you think the whole Fillory thing is childish bullshit now," he spat out and she resisted the urge to slam her head against the table. She couldn't have the same fight again.

Quentin went on: "But the new version of the book really meant a lot to me and it sucks that my roommate took it. I mean, he just took something so precious and rare before I could even savor it, just because he thinks he's stronger than me or cooler than me or whatever. It was a dick move, that's all."

"No argument, Q. It was absolutely a dick move. He's a total asshole."

"And m-maybe my 'obsession' with Fillory is why I'm even here." Now he met her eyes. He was challenging her. "Maybe it's why I can do magic."

"Maybe." Julia pressed her lips together and nodded. "Though my roommate told me that there's supposedly some genetic component to magical ability. It's like a fractured helix or—"

"Jesus, you can't let me have anything, can you?"

"Q, we are sitting on campus of a magical grad school. Can we drop this dumb fight?" She took his hand and noticed he squeezed it despite himself. "I get it, okay? You think I'm dismissing a big—a fundamental part of who you are. And I think you could stand to broaden your horizons a little bit. We're probably both right, in different ways. But we have bigger, more amazing things to think about now."

"But Fillory and Brakebills—"

"Aren't connected." She said quietly, squeezing his hand tighter. "Just like how Harry Potter isn't a real wizard, Expelliarmus-ing all over the world. It's fiction."

Before he could protest, she held up her free hand and continued: "That doesn't make it less valuable though, I know. 'Fillory and Further' is an amazing, important part of your journey, and it carried you here—it carried us here. And I honor that so much, and I'll always honor that."

She swallowed back some real tears, surprised at her own emotion.

"It's part of what I love about you and what I love about our friendship, forever, okay?" She steeled herself for the clincher. "But I still think we can both move forward, to better, brighter, truer paths of interest. Can you accept that?"

Quentin was silent for a moment before sighing and nodding, then bringing her hands to his lips for a quick, familiar knuckle kiss. She reached across the table to ruffle his hair and he ducked away from her, smiling.

But then, suddenly, he sobered again, his face dropping along with her heart at his grave seriousness. Shit. She'd said the wrong thing again, somehow.

"Just…please don't compare that pop-lit trash to Plover's masterpiece ever again, alright?"

Julia laughed, relieved. The more they stay the same.

"Harry Potter is for the barely literate masses."

"I know, Q."

"The framework is shallow and it-it has no place amongst the greats of the fantasy genre."

"Understood."

"Like, sure, Rowling could build a cheap sugar-rush world with some cute words and really basic imagery, but there's-there's no substance, no depth of concept, no truly interesting lore, nothing that—"

"Q!" She laughed. "I get it. Hogwarts bad, Whitespire good. Let's get another cup of coffee and talk about real magic now, okay?"

And so, they did, like only best friends could. They laughed and pontificated, debated and joked. It was like old times, but new again. They argued about whether Margo was the worst or not (shockingly, Q defended the very attractive co-ed) and shit-talked that Penny guy until their sides split with laughter. They pored over the few textbooks they had available to them, trying to discern the more complicated theories with varying levels of success. Julia succeeded more often, but Q could keep up once she explained it, like always.

Everything was perfect.

So perfect, that she nearly didn't notice the blonde girl (woman, she corrected herself), sitting in the corner, alone, staring daggers into her head.

Nearly.

Julia caught her eye again, this time putting on a less friendly face (What do you want, lady?) Again, the blonde shook her head, another warning. She leaned forward and mouthed something angrily, forcefully, aggressively, so intensely that spit came off her teeth, which gnashed against her lips. Maybe another language? It was tough to tell; Julia wasn't adept at lip-reading. So in response, Julia stared at her and then turned her whole body away.

She was done with assholes.

Julia arrived extra early for her very first class. It was with Professor Sunderland, the dean's second-hand woman. She was part of the committee during admissions, and she hadn't said much. But her heart soared when she caught the professor's eye and the older woman gave Julia a warm smile.

"Miss Wicker, it's excellent to see you again." She placed her knuckles on Julia's front row desk and knocked twice. "I've been looking forward to tapping into the incredible potential you showed during your assessment."

"No pressure or anything!" Julia said. "But thank you."

"Hmm, a little pressure, yes." Professor Sunderland wasn't joking with her. "Seeing such raw talent like yours is rare. But that doesn't mean it's impossible for you to disappoint. See to it that you work hard. You have an interesting road ahead of you."

"I always work hard." Julia puffed her chest out, proud of the truth in her statement.

"Then I'm sure we will enjoy each other very much. Though you wouldn't be the first student to overestimate her abilities."

The professor walked away to speak to another early arrival and Julia took a deep breath. Brakebills certainly wasn't warm and fuzzy. But it was clear that if you applied yourself, there was an endless ceiling towards growth. It was exactly what Julia prided herself on, and exactly what she had been searching for all her life.

Then, the seat directly next to her was occupied, a heady warm-cedar scent filling her nostrils and lungs. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but she recognized it with a sigh. Turning her face slightly, she rolled her eyes at the sight of Quentin's dickwad roommate, sitting way too close to her.

"Sup, Nerd Girl?"

His smiled showed teeth, and seemed oddly genuine. But Julia wasn't playing.

"Give Quentin back his book."

"What?"

"Quentin." She leaned forward on her arms, still not fully looking at him. "Your roommate. Give him back his book."

Penny's smile dropped.

"I don't have his goddamn book. He's still crowing about that shit? To everyone? He probably left it in his cubby. I think they're by the potties."

"Just give it back, man."

"I'm serious, man. Why the fuck would I take a book? It's racist that he thinks I did." He jutted his chin out defiantly. "Not all brown people are thieves."

"Oh please, you're the only one who had access. It's not racism, it's common sense."

"Other people could have been in the room."

"I doubt it," she shot back. "Quentin's not exactly a joiner and you're way too big of a dick to have made any friends yet, or ever."

"Way too big of a dick is close, actually," he leered at her; she hated that she almost blushed. "But that loser's actually had a couple of people over."

"Who?" Julia was genuinely curious, but tried not to show it. She figured Q was still retreating into his usual isolated world of philosophical purity, where no one quite measured up enough to let in. But maybe things were different here, already. She certainly was, so why not Q?

Still, the idea bothered her more than she liked.

"Tall gay dude, hot hag who's always with the tall gay dude…" Penny ticked off the non-names on his fingers, then snapped, pointing at her. "And y'know, the fact that you don't think that blonde chick who's been trailing around him isn't suspicious really makes you the racist too."

The blood in her veins froze.

"B-blonde?"

"What, jealous?" It was a mocking shot again, but there was also a pause of sincerity in the way he asked it, like he was really trying to figure out her relationship to Q. Something he hadn't earned at all, so she ignored the implied question, and instead focused on the important matter at hand.

"Does she wear glasses? Peter Pan collars?"

"No idea what the fuck that second thing is, but yeah, glasses. If you're Nerd Girl, she's, like, Super Nerd Girl."

"God, your wit is magnificent. Do you write for the New Yorker?"

"Nope, 'cause I'm not a fuckin' nerd." Again, he was smiling, like he was enjoying their totally not enjoyable exchange.

She changed the subject back to what actually interested her: "I didn't know Quentin knew her. I've seen her around a few times. She's…she's not exactly friendly."

"No one is here."

"I am!"

"What? No, you're not." Penny's laugh was rueful and he kind of looked away. "It's cool. I get it. I've been exposed to magic my whole life and trust me, I know how it raises hackles. No one is immune, Julia."

She didn't know how he knew her name. She didn't really want to know.

"But I really am friendly. It's everyone else who's—"

"What's that saying? You meet one asshole, you probably just met an asshole. But if everyone you meet is an asshole, then…"

Guilt tickled Julia's stomach, but she ignored it.

"I'm not an asshole. And magic doesn't have a negative effect on me. Nothing has made me happier than magic." She said. "It's a source of good. I'm grateful. Everyone should be."

He wasn't smiling or laughing anymore. Instead, Penny stared into her eyes, down to her molecules. She swallowed, but maintained eye contact. She wouldn't let him intimidate her.

"Whatever you say, Nerd Girl." His voice was soft, belying his cold stare. The guilt roared harder and she pushed it away with more fervor. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. They were strangers, and she was content to remain so.

Professor Sunderland started class. Practical Applications 101, with a discussion of essential theory. It was foundational information; rudimentary, really, and especially easy when one did the reading (and, well, maybe a little beyond…) So unfortunately, Julia was once again stuck with her thoughts, Penny's words ringing in her ears. She'd learned a ward or two, so thankfully he had no idea. She was certain he wouldn't let her live that down.

But still, she turned her body away from him as much as she could, and tried to ignore the steadiness of his breath, the closeness of his arm, his body heat next to her, the feel of his eyes drilling down into her more often than she was strictly comfortable with. She wasn't stupid. There was something… primal and true and awful about what he'd said about magic and its effect on Brakebills, and perhaps the world at large, that she wasn't ready for. And there was something primal and true and maybe not so awful about Penny himself, and perhaps his effect on her, that she especially wasn't ready for.

Magic was real. Magic was real. Magic was real.

That's what she was ready for.

She fell asleep in the library, using a near mountain of books as a pillow, like a cliché. She was tucked away, far in the back. Technically, there was a ward where she wanted to go, but with a small amount of reading, she was easily able to push past it and get to the books she was fairly certain were for the professors only. But she wasn't some high school kid; they were all adults, so why shouldn't she have access to the same information?

As she rubbed her sleep-crusted eyes back to equilibrium, she froze as she heard two voices get closer to the table. She glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night.

"Shit," she whispered and ducked under the table, quickly building out from the ward to disguise herself as part of it. She'd read about it a couple of hours before and didn't really understand why anyone would need a whole course on spells like that. Hell, she already even figured out how to tweak them a little to suit her needs. Why didn't everyone just do that? It was simple.

The voices got closer and she sucked in her breath as the dean's reverberant bass filled the room with urgency, and an unrecognizable chipper English lilt followed.

"I'm not sure I follow the logic of this one," Fogg was pacing, his expensive leather shoes ripping into the carpet. "The last iteration was a disaster precisely because of Alice. This change is too dangerous."

"Giving Alice immediate access is a good change, Henry. It gives her the opportunity to—"

"There's a reason we never invited her in the first place," he cut the woman off, slamming his hand on the table. "And yes, she manages to get through every time. Fine. But you've seen what she's done. She is always volatile upon arrival, but this time, she has even more of an axe to grind. She thinks she's acknowledged, that she's welcome, and yet we're ignoring her demands, her…concerns. That we're ignoring what happened."

"I know. But my choice isn't uninformed. It's precisely because the last time was indeed… unfortunate." The English woman sat too close for comfort to Julia's hidden form. She had to get out of there, fast.

The Brit didn't notice though, as she sipped a cup of tea that hadn't been there a second prior. "The niffin mucked things up a bit and I wanted to try to prevent that."

"The niffin paired up with the goddamn…" Fogg placed his fist to his mouth and shook his head. "The best thing you could have done is taken Alice Quinn out of the equation entirely."

"And leave your poor Miss Wicker alone, without an equal power source?"

Julia's brain whirling through the spells she'd learned crashed. She was trying to figure out some form of stealth teleportation, but that sentence was too strange. This woman—a total stranger—knew her? And her power? And she was talking like she had any kind of relationship to the dean? And in relation to someone named Alice?

What the hell…?

She changed her focus. Instead of trying to figure out how to get out without detection, she instead increased the power of her disguise, holding on longer to hear the conversation.

"She can handle it alone. She's shown herself time and again to be beyond Alice's skill and certainly beyond her character."

"You consistently underestimate Alice because of your…soft spot."

"I certainly don't underestimate Alice. I fear her. She's dangerous."

"She is essential."

"She is the reason for so many failures, as much as you want to blame the boy. This is foolhardy at best."

The woman frowned and touched Fogg on the arm.

"Eventually, you'll have to let go, you know." She said softly. "I can't guarantee how this is all going to shake out, in the end. There's only so much we can control."

"Eventually, we'll be out of this quagmire and the world will be safe again or we'll all be dead. Both sound lovely at this point."

"Such a jokester. Death is hardly the worst outcome we're facing."

"I'm aware." He snapped. Then, he was quiet, leaning over the woman with intensity and sorrow. "I'm concerned about how to train them—and especially him—if she is completely unhinged. You know he's not exactly stable himself. There's only so much Julia can do to keep them all anchored."

"Then you must ensure Alice won't become unhinged, Henry. I don't know what else to tell you. I have to try everything. We both do."

"I will do what I can. You know this."

"I do know."

And with that, as though they'd been here a thousand times before, they shook hands, and the woman opened a door behind the bookshelf. She walked into a bright green meadow that appeared out of nowhere, with large trees visible well into the horizon. Then, Henry Fogg rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed the door behind her. He turned on the ball of his feet, and stormed out of the library muttering and swearing under his breath.

Julia looked both ways to ensure the coast was all and well clear before undoing her disguise and racing out of the back of the library, her breath sharp and hot and caught in between her ribs. Shaking, she quickly put the wards back up and ran out the door, pausing next to a tree.

"What. The. Fuck." She whispered aloud, her legs shaking under her. Something was seriously fucked up at this school; she could feel it in her bones. She pulled out her cell phone and tried to call Q, but remembered then that cell phones didn't work on the Brakebills campus. Nothing worked on the Brakebills campus. They were completely isolated, trapped, far away from everyone and anyone who knew or cared about them. Even her fucking boyfriend—James, poor James, fuck!—was under some kind of illusion spell, which made sure he didn't think twice about why she wouldn't be around much anymore. How could she have missed the scary red flags that were flying fucking everywhere?

She needed to leave. She needed to get far, far away. Running as fast as she could, she started thinking about all the different ways she could get out of this, with her sanity and life fully in tact.

But then, like the answer to a prayer sent the wrong direction, she was paralyzed, her limbs stuck together in a full-body bind. She whipped her head to the side and tried to scream when she saw her, the blonde woman, making rapid-fire hand motions around her.

"Sorry about this," the blonde said before casting a final silencing charm. "I can feel the power radiating off you. If anyone can catch his attention, it's you. I just need to talk to my brother. I won't hurt you."

Julia tried to force her way out of the cast, but she increased the tightness.

"Don't fight me, Julia," her voice was a low growl. "I need your help. And since you weren't listening to me before, I had to take the opportunity for myself. Now, I need you to ask to speak to Charlie."

Julia could barely breathe and felt like she was watching her own body from above. She was both in and out of her body at the same time, magic ravaging her insides and her synapses, something full and powerful overtaking every pore and every molecule. This was serious fucking shit and Julia knew, just fucking knew, that she was looking at Alice Quinn.

"I heard that. Think about Charlie, not about me. Charlie Quinn. He's my brother. Ask for him. Please, Julia. I won't hurt you. No one will hurt you."

Julia was being taken—levitated—toward a fountain outside the library. Had she never noticed it before? There was a dark, foreboding energy coming off it. She was going to vomit her own insides into themselves if she didn't get away from it soon.

"Ask to speak to him now."

Julia refused, keeping her mind blank. Alice had no power over her. Alice had no power over her. Alice had no power over—

"ASK TO SPEAK TO HIM!"

Alice pushed Julia into the fountain with no recourse and razor sharp water stabbed her lungs.

And she saw everything.

Blue energy, hot blue energy, white and invisible and blue and all-encompassing. The laughter was cold and horses stampeded over her power and her soul. A piece of her soul vibrated brilliantly, and the pain seared her like nothing had ever burned. Your shade, the water and the sky and the universe told her. Your worthless, useless shade. Julia was drowning and she knew this was the end. The water would take her. Charlie would take her. Magic would take her.

Together we would be formidable, and she knew it was true.

Half-alive, her existence was intoxicating and bleak and wonderful and horrible all at once, and Julia thrashed like a child in the womb, ready to crawl or claw her way out of her mother's stomach, with a rush of blood and vengeance. Charlie, or whatever he had become, was whispering to her, enticing her, coaxing her. All was lost and the water hurt so bad and then—

—Then, a large blast pushed her and the fucking crazy bitch onto the ground.

Julia gasped out for breath, vomiting water as all of her senses came rushing back to her. On adrenaline alone, she pushed herself into a defensive position over Alice's knocked out form. Hot with anger and power, she looked to the side to see what had changed, who had arrived. There, she saw one person she recognized and another she didn't.

"Avada Kedavra, motherfucker." It was Margo, holding a broken bottle next to a tall, well-coiffed man in a vest. "Well, actually, this is a basic as fuck exploding charm, but it was enough to knock her on her ass."

"She was too emotional," The man stepped forward and bent over Alice's unconscious form. "So she didn't have the right level of control. Poor little psycho."

He turned to Julia then and his deep-set eyes filled with a small amount of warmth, "Are you okay? I'm Eliot."

"I'm fine," she lied. "H-how'd you know we'd be here?"

"So, we didn't," Margo said with a slight smirk. "We happened to be walking by. You're just one lucky little gal."

"With an exploding charm? Like a bomb? Coincidentally?"

"It was for a sex thing." Eliot whispered, holding his mouth between his hands exaggeratedly. Margo giggled and put a single finger up to her mouth as confirmation. "But obviously it's better that we were able to use it for a, uh, nobler purpose."

"Debatable," Margo shrugged at her friend's equally amused and horrified face. "What? Duh, I'm glad we saved her ass, but there's nothing ignoble about exploring your kinks."

"Love the sex positivity, Bambi, but read the room."

"What was Alice doing then?" Julia pushed past Margo's obviously characteristic self-absorption, directing her questions to the slightly more reasonable-seeming dude.

"Alice? As in… Alice Quinn?" Margo asked, shocked, but Eliot quickly shushed her.

"Looks like some kind of ritualistic human sacrifice," he said, and Julia waited for him to laugh. He didn't.

"You're joking." She finally said.

"No. Sorry. Welcome to Brakebills?"

Then, whether it was the enormity of the information she heard in the library, the aching loneliness that she was increasingly certain she was doomed to, or the residual magic still swirling in her system, Julia sat down on the ground, feeling like she was being pulled apart slowly, inch by inch.

Inky black spots formed in front of her eyes and she could barely hear Eliot and Margo yelling her name as she promptly passed the fuck out.

tbc.