She swallows, staring out at the flowing canyon and waterfall. "I was walking with my friends in the forest near camp," she says slowly. "When I emerged into a clearing with strange trees and an impossible creature made of laughter and light. It told me I didn't belong there, and insisted I leave before I became...nothing. When I emerged, I found myself here - at least, what seemed to be here." Her fingers curl into tight fists again, nails biting into her palms. "What is this gap you mentioned? Why have I crossed into this place, that is less real than others?" There are too many pieces missing from this puzzle, for her to grasp how they fit together.

He laughs. It is bitter and cold. "There is no why. Sometimes reality has cracks running beneath the surface. Sometimes you become something so grand you make the cracks yourself. This place is... a wetland of sorts. The last bit of land before the sea. Things that fall in wash up here. You fell into the nothing that surrounds everything. But there's something different about you." He reaches a hand out slowly, tentatively, the fledgeling child of hope in his eyes. It makes contact with hers, and he flinches back, shock and awe and wonder arcing across his face.

She stares at his outstretched hand, hesitating only a moment before placing her own within it. His touch sends a jolt through her, a surge of something that resonates deep within. For the first time since awakening in this strange forest, she feels grounded - anchored to something solid and real. "What did you find?" Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper. She can see the shock and wonder in his eyes, knows somehow that touching her was no small thing.

He laughs for the first time in ages. "I guess you're a little like me," he says, then sticks the hand not being held by someone for the first time in years through the wall in demonstration. He's not here, really. He hasn't been here since his grand and failed experiment. "Not quite anchored. Except I went inside out, and you went outside in."

She stares at their joined hands, feeling the hum of life - of something real - pass between them. "Outside in," she echoes. The pieces click into place, forming a picture she's still struggling to grasp. She didn't simply stumble into a magical forest - she fell through cracks in reality itself, and emerged in this place. A fey fen, where bits of the real collect like driftwood. And she is real, impossibly so, in a way even she doesn't fully understand. Her eyes meet his again. "What is your name?" she asks softly. Names have power, even here.

"Don't have one. Or at least, not anymore. Or maybe I never did and I only noticed after I unfurled from the confines of this narrow reality." His gaze goes distant, foggy. "It's strange what you notice only after it's gone." He blinks, comes back to himself. "Apologies for the tangent. Do you still have a name, or did you lose yours too?"

She hesitates, wondering if giving her name might grant this strange creature power over her in turn. But he has already seen through her, grasped some fundamental truth about what she is. There seems little point in denying him. "Jupiter," she says at last. "My friends call me Jupiter." Memory, cruel, sends a pang of sharp longing through her. Their faces are fading from her mind, details slipping away with each passing moment in this place. She tightens her grip on the Professor's hand, anchoring herself to his impossible solidity. "Will I find my way back?" she asks softly.

At this, the faint smile falls from his face, and he conjures up the waterfall again. "Does water fall up, Jupiter? Reality seeks equilibrium, and this is the bottom of the basin. To climb out..." He shakes his head slowly. "You are not yet anchored here, but that does not mean you are still anchored there."

She nods slowly, understanding. The water will not flow upward, nor the light retreat into darkness. What has been done cannot be undone. She is here, in this strange fey place at the bottom of all things, and there is no climbing out. Her fingers tighten around the Professor's, seeking comfort that logic tells her he cannot provide. And yet, impossibly, his hand remains solid in her grasp - a lifeline thrown across an uncrossable gulf. "I didn't come here alone," she says at last, voice barely above a whisper. She doesn't want to forget them, her anchors against the storm. "My friends, Neptune and Venus. Will they find their way here too?" It seems too much to hope for, that they might follow her into this place. And yet she cannot accept being parted from them forever. They are a trinity, hands joined by the devil that would consume them. Without the others, what is left of her Light and Water?

He looks at her, this child, this person from a world he has never known. He does not want to break her heart. "It is possible. But most things that fall into the sea do not come back out." As part of his experiment, he had done extensive research on the cracks between worlds. Many fell past this last gasp of reality. And the nothing... The nothing consumes until nothing remains. Statistically speaking, far more entities should be falling through the cracks than appeared in the world, even accounting for the vast stretches of land that had few people to observe such occurrences. "And even if they made it through, there is no guarantee that they are on this continent, let alone in this nation." He carefully does not mention how much of the planet is covered by water, how easy it would be for people to drown.

She lets out a slow breath, staring down at their joined hands. The Professor's words echo in her mind, a grim pronouncement that leaves little room for hope. Neptune and Venus may never find their way here, may even now be struggling in the grasp of that terrible nothing that surrounds all things. And if by some miracle they survive its hunger, this place where the real collects is so vast they could be anywhere. She is alone. Her fingers tighten around his, seeking impossible comfort. She doesn't want to be alone again. There's a sound of creaking, slipping strain of concrete blocks grinding together, compression of atomic nuclei cores at the heart of blood-red star weeping iron. Without the others to ground her, what is there to hold it - her - at bay? "You should not have told me their fate," she whispers. The devil only ever gets one moment. One moment of weakness or doubt, and it will consume her utterly. She snaps her hairtie, seeking the calm, rational center she has cultivated over years of struggle. There is nothing to fear. The storm will not break over her. She will be distant. She lifts her gaze to the Professor's, eyes fierce and bright. "I choose to remain here, for now. This place at the bottom of all things. There must be cracks that lead...elsewhere. Other bits of the real, other anchors against the storm." Her fingers tighten around his hand like a vice. "You will show me the way." It's not a request. She will not be alone again.

He has always been one for certainty over hope, but perhaps that was the wrong approach for this one, especially when her thaumaturgic field is still fluctuating for reasons he cannot discern. She is distant now, her joy and grief and love and agony tucked inside her chest. "We should get you formally enrolled with Admissions. And the Administrator should be informed of your existence. They would find out regardless and would be... displeased that I had not told them immediately."

She breathes in deep, measuring each inhale and exhale to calm the panic still twisting sharp in her chest. The hands will not reach for her here. She looks to the Professor, brows drawing down. "Where is this...Administrator? If I must make myself known, let us do so now." Best to get the formalities over with, to find her place in this strange land at the bottom of all things. As long as there are still cracks and chinks to explore, places beyond here that call to her restless heart, she will endure whatever rules they see fit to impose. Her hand tightens once more around his before releasing its grip. She lifts her chin, jaw set in stubborn lines. There is nothing to fear. She will remain distant. Calm.

As is tradition, the Administrator resides in the tallest tower of the University, only accessible by stair. He privately suspects that the Administrator enchanted the staircase to get ever so slightly longer each day, but every time he tries to make a formal count, the Administrator admonishes him for 'loitering'. "Follow me. It is a fairly long walk." 

'Fairly long' is perhaps an understatement considering that the tallest tower just so happens to be on the exact opposite end of the school from the student wing. Still, the time passes.

The staircase to the Administrator's tower is narrow and steep, with steps that seem to multiply even as she climbs them. Though it can't be more than a few floors, the journey feels endless as she huffs and puffs up the tight spiraling steps. They must be at elevation, or something. She's not used to getting tired out climbing stairs. The walls press close, trapping the stale air that grows warmer with each turn. She focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, trying not to dwell on the cramped space closing in around her, skin prickling. She can just imagine that the Administrator, whoever they may be, smirking knowingly. Only a sadist or someone who really liked looking down on people set themselves up in a space like this.

At the top of the staircase, the double doors swing open, revealing an office that by all rights should be well-light. There are small light charms gleaming, illusory candles in their fixtures, even the exorbitance of real Luminas gemstones in the chandelier. Still, the Administrator seems to swallow the light, pulsing with what is best described as hollow. 

"Professor," says the Administrator, "how nice to see you in my office instead of skulking by the stairs. And with a guest, no less."

She climbs the last few steps to emerge, breathless, into the Administrator's office. The space seems is best described as tenebrous, much like its sole occupant - a figure wreathed in shadows that pulse with something hollow and unnameable. It reminds her of that time she saw a whale under her kayak - the feeling of moving close to something intensely powerful and profoundly uninterested in her well-being. She's just too small. Jupiter wrings her hands, trying to disperse a surge of unease, fixing her gaze on the familiar (why is he familiar?) shape of the Professor. She inclines her head politely to the Administrator. "You wished to see me." Her voice comes out steady, belying the rapid thump of her heart. The walls press close here, just like the stairwell, and she longs for open sky and distant stars. There is nothing to fear. She repeats it like a mantra.

There is a faint echo of laughter. It comes from the light sources that are being strangled of their shine. "No, though it is good that the Professor is being more proactive with his projects." The pulsating darkness approaches, pulling away more and more of the light until it stands in front of her, stretching taller than the walls. "He never was very adept at appeasing his superiors." The darkness pulls back slightly, turning towards the Professor. "Decent starting material. High thauma. We could do so much with this as our clay. Though of course, we would never do such things to a student." The darkness abruptly pivots back to her. "You are a student, yes? Because we at the University do not take kindly to trespassers."

She swallows, keeping her gaze fixed on the pulsating shadows that seem to devour all light. It's giving her a headache just to look at it, and its harsh laughter sets her teeth on edge, a reminder of her insignificance before such power. But she will not cow before this thing, whatever it may be. She is no trespasser. "I am a student," she says, lifting her chin. Her voice does not waver. "The Professor found me, and brought me hence. If this University does not accept drifters and wanderers, then say so now." She curls her hands into fists to hide their trembling. There is nothing to fear. "I do not beg for entrance where I am not wanted. Simply point the way out, and I shall trouble you no more." Some part of her urges flight, to flee this place of shadows and grasping hands. But she stands her ground, gaze locked with the pulsating darkness. She will not be moved or molded, save by her own choice.

The shadows pull back ever so slightly. "Good." Its voice takes on the barest edge of ritual. "You will be shaped by many hands, but the only one who can determine your path is you. You will be known by many names, but the only one who can determine your fate is you. You will be seen by many eyes, but the only one who will know yourself is you. It will be a hard path and a cold path and a hollow path, and the cost its own reward. Only you can decide if it is worth the price. Welcome, wizard hopeful, to the University."

Then the shadows recede entirely, revealing bright and cheerful light. "Run along now. I'm sure you have classes to attend."

The Professor bows slightly, so slight it would be less rude if he feigned forgetfulness and simply abstained from bowing. "Thank you for your time, Administrator," he says, voice carefully absent of disdain. And they walk down the spiral staircase that tastes of forever. 

"Admissions will get you sorted," he says as they walk. "They'll do some aptitude testing, all the standard ones you would have gotten if you'd come here the standard way. Then class registration. It's a few weeks after the start of term, so you may have some catching up to do. There's also the... cultural and historical education. Someone will have to tell you who the king is. Not me because I haven't paid attention to royalty since the last execution, but someone."

To be shaped and named and seen, a hard and hollow path that is its own reward. She shakes off a shiver, peering up at the man beside her. "Who is this king you mentioned?" she asks, seeking distraction from her own churning thoughts. There's so much she doesn't know about this place, this world she's found herself in. Her lessons at camp never prepared her for any of this. She quickens her pace down the steps, longing for open sky. "And what sorts of classes can I expect, as a 'wizard hopeful'?" The title sits oddly upon her shoulders, conjuring images of pointy hats and magic wands that seem quite out of place here. Maybe she'll get a transformation sequence?

"Well, the current king is Sa... Se... ask someone else her name, but she took power in the traditional way about fifteen years ago. Since she's still alive, I assume there's been no significant complaints. And as a wizard hopeful, mostly the basics in everything. You don't specialize until you actually attain wizardry. Basic theory, that's my course, fundamentals of alchemy, energy manipulation, sensing kairos, transcending the self... No, you asked about courses, my apologies." He shakes his head briskly to clear it, then continues. "Magical Theory, Amplitude Manipulation, Clairvoyance, Alchemy, Ethics, Channeling, some extracurriculars. We can ask Admissions for a full list."

She shakes her head slowly, feeling frustration churn inside her at the string of unfamiliar terms. Nice to know this place expects her to hit the ground running, without any consideration for how little she actually knows. "What is alchemy?" she asks, fixing the Professor with an intent look as they continue down the narrow steps. If he's going to be her guide in this place, he'll have to start actually explaining things instead of rattling off lists. "And transcending the self - what does that even mean?" At least 'ethics' sounds self-explanatory, though she's not sure how much good it will do her here. The stairwell finally opens into a larger hall, and she breathes a sigh of relief at escaping its confines. But her frustration remains. "Before you dump me at this...Admissions, I need to understand more about what I'm getting into. What do you wizards actually do?" She runs a hand through her hair, peering up at the Professor.

"It is... understanding the true nature of things and changing them. Making something Other out of what is known. A lot of Inersi think it's just magic cooking because that's what witches use, but that's the method, not the philosophy. And transcendence is... understanding the world beyond the lens of just who you are. Stepping off the island that is you. You can't use your power if you don't first see."

He neatly dodges a small pack of younger wizard hopefuls as he navigates towards Admissions. "We don't... Wizardry is a philosophy more than it is a profession. Things happen in the course of wizardry, but none of that is what wizardry is. It's the will to look, comprehend, become. It's the understanding that there is more to this world than we could ever imagine or understand and seeking that knowledge regardless. It's..." He laughs. "Medea would call me an idealistic fool. We do our best, Jupiter. That's all anyone can do."