Victoria

My sister Octavia helped oversee recovery of train passengers and cargo. It took a dozen trips from teams in Melbourne and Daylesford. Both city and town mayors gave roughly the same statement about grief and outrage, and swore to crush the Rail Snakes because they’d gone too far this time. Except they’d gone “too far” every time. Everyone tacitly knew Fletcher Railways, supported by my family, conducted the real retribution against the Rail Snakes.

Fregin Drakon and his beloved Hawaiian shirt had survived the incident. My love for him was largely obligatory, like toward a distant, estranged cousin, so I visited him in hospital only once. He alternated between tearful apologies and bold, blasé tales of how he held off the entire Hunter-Yao gang single-handedly. Well, he also credited his rifle, which he’d named Misty. I made the correct sounds to show I listened, but the brief interaction wore me down. I should’ve been studying for the Vandagriff entrance exams, but even if Fregin didn’t mean much to me, his father did.

Still, I found my thoughts drifting to Fregin when I stood outside the Vandagriff Examination Hall. The hall had been constructed in the crater left behind after the Battle of Flemington, which marked a transition between the Chaotic Era and Mage Era. We hoped Fregin going to rehab might cause a similar transition.

The Battle of Flemington had been one of the most violent events in post-Dusk history, and then the battlefield had been converted to a monolithic, proverbial gate between those with and without magic. Sure, violence-to-learning, but I couldn’t help feeling the city had simply streamlined the path to power. Violence-to-violence.

If corridors served a liminal purpose for ordinary people, the domed hall emphasised the liminal nature of Vandagriff students. The dome, a cocoon. The exam, a start to our metamorphosis.

And it terrified me.

Before the exam, I’d chatted with Elliot Fletcher. He was the heir to Fletcher Railways, so I expected to get more news on the Rail Snakes incident, but he talked about going to a new Vietnamese place for a post-exam lunch.

I hadn’t much appetite. Occasionally, I recalled the Snake I’d spared at the gala. Where had he gone? Was he still with the Rail Snakes? I liked to imagine he’d found a regular profession, but Father’s words clouded my mind. My mistake to make, Father had said. Should I have been proud of that?

Me and my fellows entered the dome, found our desks, and got told to take our seats, and a few minutes after we flipped the exam papers and began to write. I’d studied hard and consistently, and the answers flowed from my pen with reflexive ease. But every few minutes, I’d pause in the middle of an answer, and a crippling doubt seized me, as if an Entity’s hand clenched my own. I knew the answer, yet when I stared at my handwriting for long enough, I had the vile power to convince myself it wasn’t correct. I erased and rewrote countless answers, pen never slowing except when I had to flex my hand to prevent an oncoming cramp. When I did this, I continued writing with my other hand.

To make things worse, the girl next to me breathed hard, perspired harder, and muttered to herself for almost the entire exam. She in equal parts disgusted and infuriated me. How could I focus with a trembling idiot at my elbow? Given her attire, I suspected she lived in the city’s north, which had become an unstable industrial zone. I had no idea how or why she’d gotten a chance to take the exam, though it must’ve been after multiple attempts. Vandagriff and the chance at magic gave people hope, and they tried the exam until that hope died.

Three hours passed, and the exam came to an end. I scrambled to rewrite a couple answers, but I did a haphazard job. Yes, I’d answered all the questions, which was good enough for most, but it wasn’t for me.

The exam drained me, but I couldn’t relax. For two weeks I existed in a tense, brittle state. My vacuous expression and twitchy reactions brought teasing from Samara and Dust, who were both in the Academy’s senior classes. The teasing stopped after Dust made a real effort to pretend the results had been posted and I kicked him in the stomach in retaliation.

So, two weeks passed, and the results finally got posted.

Yvonne the housekeeper went to check the results. It had become tradition in the Fornax family to receive Vandagriff news in the drawing room. I sat alone on a plush grey couch and plucked at pillow tassels. The double doors slid open. I crossed my arms as Father and Mother led Yvonne inside.

We sat opposite each other, while Yvonne stood between like a referee. We waited, frozen. As Yvonne’s lips parted, I tried to sense the syllables being formed. ‘You have been accepted, Victoria.’

Sounds of congratulations from my parents didn’t register. I stared at Yvonne and processed the news. ‘Congratulations, Victoria,’ Yvonne said, and embraced me briefly. Propriety likely made her stop, and I suddenly resented the drawing room tradition.

Still.

I was going to Vandagriff.

I twisted my features into the correct semblance of shocked joy, but my parents had expressions doubly artificial. The conversation continued. Father and Mother gave tips for Vandagriff, interspersed with anecdotes about their own time there. Half my attention was spent examining their artificial expressions from earlier. I first guessed they were worried, like parental concern made them feign joy. But they weren't. They’d seen Octavia, Nix, Samara, and Dust go to the Academy, and my natural abilities surpassed that of my siblings. That isn’t bragging; they knew it, too. If my parents weren’t worried, were they confused by my reaction? My artificiality may have given way to their own. But, no.

‘Unfortunately, with Dairmuid’s recent fate, they won’t have a hierophant of mathematics for some days,’ Mother said, and added in a whisper: ‘I shouldn’t be saying this, but don’t worry about that too much. Doing a Deal with a Fornax-class Entity doesn't involve math.’

Father chuckled. ‘Robb Irvine and Naracilla Geisler are the ones you’ll want to impress. Ah, they're the hierophants of literature and history, both important subjects for the Fornax Deal.’

There, I thought. Synapses fired and it clicked. My parents expected me to do well, and they expected me to get into Vandagriff. But it wasn’t because of my abilities. They expected it because they ensured it would happen. They were artificial because they weren’t shocked when Yvonne told us the result.

I didn’t let my face darken, but I stiffened and leaned into the couch. When the next anecdote came to an end, I braced – and asked:

‘Did you bribe the Academy so I’d get accepted?’

They scoffed and looked aghast, but it still carried the artificial edge. Neither spoke, waiting for the other to find a good answer. ‘You asked us not to,’ Mother said.

For weeks before the test, I’d argued with my parents against bribing the Academy. They said it was a safety net and that most of the other applicants did it, too. They’d done it for Octavia, Samara, and Dust. Not Nix; he’d warned them against doing so. If they’d gone against my wishes, it must’ve been because they feared I’d end up like Nix, feared I was predisposed to going down a path similar to his. But Octavia had taken my side, which swayed my parents. Well, so I’d thought.

‘That's not an answer,’ I said.

Father sighed. ‘We did.’ Before I could explode, he put out placating hands. ‘But you got accepted on your own.’

‘Yeah?’ I snapped. ‘Where’s my score? Oh, right, silly me, I’ll never know.’ The Academy believed revealing scores from the entrance exam created an unfair bias among a new cohorts.

‘Victoria,’ Mother said, putting on a sweet, I’m-sorry-but-also tone. ‘We’re sorry you’re upset, but we didn't want you to be disappointed. How would it have felt to not be accepted?’

I chewed the inside of my cheek. She had a point. I’d be the only Fornax in decades who hadn’t attended the Academy. ‘At least I’d know I wasn’t cut out for Vandagriff.’

‘Is that what you want? To spite yourself on principle?’

‘I could’ve tried again.’

‘And wasted four months?’ Mother had begun to dig in. But I didn’t need to convince her, only to make sure they knew I didn’t appreciate their “help”.

‘It may be possible to check your score,’ Father said. ‘Principal Vandagriff is a good friend.’

‘Don’t bother,’ I said, petulant. ‘I gotta pack.’ As I stormed to the door, Father caught up to me.

‘We wanted to did this for you, but we’re sorry for lying.’

Our views differed in a single word: For, and to. But, the apology sounded sincere. By going to the Academy, I wouldn’t be in the house as much. Better to leave on a good note. A reasonable idea at an unreasonable time, so:

I sneered, shoved open the door, slammed it shut, and continued to the staircase, only to collide with my siblings.

‘Settle the bet,’ Dust told me.

I tried to relax. The rational part of my brain knew they weren’t responsible for the bribe, but another part blamed them for setting a precedent.

‘I gotta pack,’ I mumbled. Samara squealed and hugged me, followed by a tighter one from Octavia.

Dust smiled. ‘Packing to leave the city and join the clans, or because...?’

‘Because I'll be in the dorms below you, dumbass.’

‘Yeah, yeah, congratulations.’ After hugging Dust, I jogged to my bedroom. Needing to pack wasn’t a lie, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Too much bounced around my head. Elation and pride at getting accepted had been tainted by knowing it might’ve been from a bribe. I tried convincing myself I’d passed on my own merit, but I remembered a lot of my answers. They seemed good back then, but they were sparse and imprecise, likely to get a lot of half-marks. Had that been enough to pass?

Next came the guilt. Thoughts like: I shouldn’t complain how I got in, not when thousands of kids would gladly take my place.

After pacing my room or lying in bed, I made a half-hearted attempt at packing, tossing clothes in the vague direction of my suitcase.

Soon after, Yvonne delivered a letter. It came from Vandagriff. I tore it open, expecting a perfunctory welcome brochure, but found a letter explaining the Academy’s induction process had changed. For any students who wanted to gain a Sentinel licence during their studies, they needed to pass a new series of practical exams. They did not explain the “practical” element.

Jaw clenched, I tore the letter. What were they thinking? Surprise exams?

It wasn’t mandatory to try for the Sentinel licence, and few students became Sentinels during their studies, but a lot had that as a goal, including me. So, there wasn’t a choice. I had to attempt these new exams. I needed the power of the licence. I needed to defeat my dream if I wanted any chance of living a peaceful life. The only solace these new exams provided was a chance to pass without bribery.

A few days later, all students who received the letter assembled again in the domed building. Noon sunlight streamed from the windows high above. The desks had been removed, leaving us in a vast open space. Principal Vandagriff greeted us, flanked by a male teacher in a suit and a hierophant woman in the Academy robes.

‘Thank you all for coming,’ Principal Vandagriff said in a dull, utilitarian voice. ‘We have gathered you all to engage with a new series of tests. I am sure you question why this is necessary, so please allow me to allay your concerns. Put simply, the Sentinel licence has been diluted. Some would disagree with this, but the results do not lie. The licence has been given out too freely and given Sentinels far too much latitude. Thus, working with the Central Sentinel Bureau, we have devised a series of trials to better ascertain who is worthy of holding the licence. Please understand, this is merely to push you all to reach your potential, and I sincerely hope you'll live up to the standards I know you all are capable of achieving.’ He gestured backward. ‘Mr Willigan and Mrs Geisler will now explain the trials.’

The suited man stepped forward. ‘If you’ll please form an orderly line, I will pass each of you a form that needs your signature. Please provide your own pens in blue or black ink.’

I ended up in line with Elliot Fletcher. ‘I've heard a lot of bullshit in my day,’ he grumbled, ‘but this is the cherry on top of the shitcake.’ He looked at me for confirmation, so I made a noncommittal noise. ‘We pass the exam, we pay the fees, we should get the licence like everyone else.’

I avoided mentioning how we weren’t “everyone else”, since we weren’t trying for the Sentinel licence, but instead a preliminary exam. Though, Elliot’s frustration wasn’t entirely wrong. This new system meant students had to pass these practical exams and prove their magic prowess. Not a lot more, but an unexpected hurdle all the same.

With forms signed, Naracilla Geisler took over. I needed a moment to register that she was the same woman I met at the gala. She still looked fatigued and indifferent, but the robes imbued a certain nobility, like her fatigue was born from virtuous purpose not personal vice.

‘The Entity trial is a single-stage trial that progressively gets more difficult as it continues,’ Mrs Geisler. ‘Until the trial ends, you must avoid contact with any Entity you encounter. The trial will begin in sixty seconds.’

I checked my surroundings. ‘How?’ Elliot asked. We hadn’t left the dome. Other students had similar outbursts, asking questions of the unresponsive Mrs Geisler. A rumble shook below our feet, and the entire floor began to descend. An elevator. I struggled to hear Mrs Geisler over the mechanism.

‘The Entities move slowly at the start, but they will get faster each minute after you hear this signal.’ Red light exploded from alarms embedded in the walls, joined by a quick, sharp beep. ‘You should strive to move faster incrementally, but remember to pace yourself, and run as long as possible, and to the best of your ability. The second an Entity makes contact, you will be disqualified from the exam.’

‘Wait!’ someone asked. ‘These aren’t real Entities, right?’

‘The test will begin in thirty seconds,’ Mrs Geisler continued.

‘You're kidding, right?’

The rumbling of the elevator deepened, a vast echo. Bewildered students yelled questions and got no answers. Admittedly, I added my voice to the din, but I calmed down sooner than most. And when I did, I noticed two students who didn’t appear stressed. One was a girl with dark auburn hair and scarlet bandages wrapping her fists. Oh, I thought. It was the annoying girl from the exam. The other was a towering boy, about two meters tall, who stared at nothing.

‘The test will begin on the word start,’ Mrs Geisler said. ‘On your mark, get ready, start.’

The elevator stopped. Light from the windows high above grew dim, as if the heavens left us. And left to the demons did we find ourselves.