Greenwich, London

  Summer 2004 – Several months ago

  2 days remain

  Henry awoke in his apartment with a yawn and a stretch. Thin beams of sunlight seeped in past the curtains, and the usual din of bustling city streets reached his ears through the thin plaster walls of his bedroom. Groggily, he rubbed the crust from his eyes and swung his legs over the side of the bed, making to get a start on the day.

  His bare feet down on the thin, scratchy carpet. Standing up straight, he shuffled over to the bedroom window. Drawing the curtains with a heave, light from outside surged inwards through the glass pane.

  The sun in the sky was almost directly overhead, radiating down from above in the absence of any clouds. A picturesque summer afternoon.

  Cars, buses and other vehicles on the street below choked the roadway with the typical midday fare. Wondering how long he’d been out for, Henry glanced at his dormant alarm clock – 12:35 pm. A bit busy outside for a Saturday, but nothing the weather couldn’t already account for.

  He ran some quick mental math. If it was past noon currently, that meant he’d slept for… just short of 13 hours. Upon realizing, he was a lot more glad that today was one of his few days off.

  Not that he regretted sleeping in in the slightest. Rest was just as important as everything else, he maintained. The ‘routine’ part of morning routine was the more important part in his mind.

  “In all seriousness, I really should set a proper sleep schedule sometime…”, he sighed to himself.

  He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared down at the street below. Now that he was up, what should he spend his precious few hours of the day doing…?

  …

  Nothing much, really. All he needed to do currently was wait around, so he should be fine to just phone this one i-

  “Hang on a minute!”

  He cracked open the bedroom door, sparing a quick glance towards his answering machine in the main room. How he’d practically forgotten earlier was beyond him. Now that the idea was fresh in his mind, however, he had his fingers crossed that the call he’d been waiting on had finally come through.

  He peered across the flat to the shelf where the machine lay. The light on the machine was blinking red… but as the bedroom door creaked open a different light on the other side of the door demanded his immediate attention.

  Henry couldn’t help but wince at the sight. Gazing up towards the room’s singular nighttime light source, he realized that his private war with his living situation had struck once again.

  The low wattage bulbs in the ceiling fan pulsed a gentle warm glow, totally oblivious to the drain on his finances they represented.

  The stray ley line in the light switch had flipped them back on. Again. Merely thinking of how his electric bill was going to suffer at the end of the month was enough to make him grit his teeth. If it weren’t for how they – and a few other shoddy electric-rune conversions – burned up his rapidly dwindling disposable income, he’d have long since hired someone to fix them.

  He sighed frustratedly. “Maybe I should just start unscrewing the bulbs each night before I go to bed...”

  After a few pokes and jostles to the switch’s plastic housing, the light flicked off. He threw the curtains wide, as a last-ditch effort to ignore his money troubles just a while longer. Natural lighting flooded the room once more. Nearly a full 20 seconds passed afterward, as he pinched his nose bridge in exasperation.

  Yet another issue to find a way to manage later. He jabbed the answering machine with his finger in hopes of taking his mind off the blunder.

  “*beeeep* You have -five- unheard messages. First message…”

  “Come on, plenty to work with today, tell me what I wanna hear…”, he said under his breath.

  The machine began with its usual spiel, before it began to relay a message from some source or another from someone he quickly determined wasn’t saying anything important. Letting it play in the background, he returned to the bedroom to quickly change out of his sleepwear in the meantime.

  The ratty white T-shirt he used the night before came off, tossed haphazardly into a basket with a crumpled adhesive note labeled ‘dirty’ on it. It landed unceremoniously at the top, slightly shifting the disorganized pile. But, heedless of the precarious balance, he fished through a second basket – this one labeled ‘clean’ – for something that hopefully hadn’t ended up too wrinkled in the noticeably smaller stack.

  “Tired of your day-to-day routine wearing you down? For a low initial payment of-”

  He reflexively snapped upright. By the time his brain caught up with his instincts, he had bounded halfway across the flat, his choice of attire abandoned as he rushed back in a dead sprint. It barely took two paces for him to close the distance.

  His finger slammed the delete button with more force than was admittedly necessary. The machine had a rather annoying feature that required him to press it to the button for several seconds before it would actually delete any messages. Forcing him to wait, as the spam call made his brain want to seep out his ears.

  Grumbling at the interruption, he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his outdated household appliance to get with the times.

  “Can’t those telemarketers take the bloody hint? I already have to deal with using this pre-Domain hunk of junk, and that’s the fourth time that call’s been recorded in this week alone…”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “*beeeep* Third message…”

  Traipsing back to his room, he tossed on the previously discarded tee and grabbed a few extra clothing articles at random. The jeans he ended up choosing were a bit on the faded side, and the logo on the Seal shirt he was wearing was starting to peel away a bit… but that just added to the charm, right?

  “Ey, Henry, it’s Salim from the repair shop. Just calling to let you know that the repairs you wanted for your motorcycle finished up this morning. Come swing by and pick it up once you hear this.”

  Lucky break, that. He’d been itching to get back on the road after walking everywhere for the past week. He moved on to the bathroom, pouring out a bit of mouthwash to rinse with before washing it down the drain with a splash of extra water. A faint, blue-white glow emanated from the spout as the liquid trickled down the drain.

  “*beeeep* Fourth message…”

  He finished brushing his teeth in the practically closet-sized bathroom as fast as he could. As nice as not having to share a porcelain throne was, he still wasn’t sure if it had been worth the extra charge to his rent at the end of each month.

  Sure, the privacy was nice, and he enjoyed the fresh Water Domain enchantment in the faucet being able to practically erase his water bill, in a pinch…

  But between the downright ancient paint peeling off the walls and the functionally immortal patch of black mold on the ceiling, any extended use was probably medically inadvisable.

  Already he’d brought both issues to the landlord’s attention multiple times. To little effect.

  “Greetings, Mr. Thompson. I’m calling you on behalf of the Liverpool Institute of Domain Education regarding your recent application and testing.”

  “Oh my God, this is it! Finally!!”

  Henry carelessly discarded the toothbrush, fist pumping in anticipation. Once again, he rushed back into the main room, though this time brimming with excitement rather than annoyance.

  “Here we go! Ticket to the top of the world, plus a window of opportunity to sweep Layla off her feet, coming right up! For real this time!”

  “We understand the challenges inherent with approaching the world of Domain magic…”

  “Yes…”

  “And we congratulate you for attempting that challenge head-on, despite your admittedly tenuous financial situation…”

  “Yes…!”

  “...unfortunately, the results of your tests indicate that you are currently ineligible to begin our training programme.”

  “YE- wait, no! NO!!!”

  In a few short words, a solid month’s worth of extended hours, cost cutting and increasing tests of mental fortitude went straight down the drain.

  “…while we understand this may come as a disappointment, we encourage you to try again at a later date, and can recommend you to other campuses if you still wish to pursue a higher education…”

  “Damn it, no! That’s not why I applied to you and you know it!”, Henry exclaimed, slamming his fist against the shelf impotently. He nearly missed the closing statement as he shouted over the bearer of bad news.

  “…Lastly, in the event of future encounter with an unsolicited mana-charged phenomenon – colloquially known as Ghost of Tolkien – please do not hesitate to reach out to us for Domain aptitude re-evaluation. We at the Liverpool Institute of Domain Education wish you well.”

  “Yeah, fat chance that ever happens, you mongrel! I’d have better luck winning the lotto! AND, more importantly, the bloody hell would I need you for if I just get handed that kind of magic talent on a silver platter?!”

  As the message came to a close, Henry clicked the pause button on the machine, casting the apartment into silence to process what he had just heard. He cupped his face in his hands, groaning exasperatedly.

  “Jesus… What a way to start the day…”, were the only words he could muster after his tirade.

  Disappointed didn’t even begin to cut it. Certainly, it had been a long shot from the get go, attempting to fight his way into the premier magic academy in England on his shoestring budget. It gave him a few advantages to work with – grants, namely – but those only counted if he’d managed to get in in the first place.

  Which, apparently, he hadn’t. He wasn’t even sure which part had sunk him – the written portion he had spent weeks studying, or the magical aptitude tests they’d required a blood sample to perform. Would’ve been nice to know that part.

  At least that one had a few upsides. Drawing extra blood that same day had been just barely enough to get his bike sent in for repairs, after all.

  He moped about for a little while longer. It threw some – okay, a lot – of the options he’d been looking forward to out the window, which… was a bitter pill to swallow, admittedly. But, in the meantime, it meant he had plenty of time to figure out a Plan B for his future.

  “Truly, no plan survives first contact.”

  He’d piece something together, eventually. Thinking these things through too much is what tended to make his ideas crash and burn in the first place. Enough ideas meet that fate, and eventually he’d have enough bits and pieces to make one that worked, same as always.

  And besides, he still had the rest of the summer to enjoy with her, didn’t he?

  He kept telling himself that as he resumed the playback.

  “*beeeep* Last message, sent -today, 10 AM- from -Layla-…”

  “Huh, speaking of-”

  “Henry! Guess what! Liverpool Institute called this morning! Meet me at the park at 1, I’ll tell you all about it and we’ll have some fun today, yeah? See you there!”

  The time she mentioned drilled a sense of urgency into his head like a thunderbolt. 1 o’clock was in about 20 minutes! The final tone of the answering machine rang as he leapt to his feet in haste.

  He frantically tossed his shoes on one after the other. A quick peek in the bathroom mirror and a vain effort to rearrange his messy bedhead was all he spared before grabbing his keys and running out the door.

  “Nope! Not being late again this time!”, he yelped as he ran out into the hall and scrambled towards the ground floor.

  < --- --- >

  In the center of the park, a singular elm tree towered over a clearing of green grass. The city tended to it meticulously, carefully tending to its every need and checking it frequently for signs of invasive species that destroyed the ancient plant life all too often.

  Underneath the boughs of that tree, a girl sat alone, waiting. The gentle breeze rustled the branches above, cool air softly brushing the side of her face in passing.

  She pushed a strand of wavy blonde hair back into place as the wind settled. The shade offered her a welcomed respite from the cloudless sky overhead, pairing with the wind in what had to be the most pleasant day she’d had all summer. She let out a contented sigh, enjoying the moment for all it was worth.

  With weather as good as this, she really wasn’t minding the wait.

  Her wristwatch ticked away softly. A quick glance read that it was just a few minutes before the time she’d told him. Considering he was usually fashionably late… cutting it close had been bound to happen.

  Her crystal blue eyes swept the crowd of parkgoers once more. More out of habit than of any real expectation to see him here just yet. As she expected, the familiar face she was looking for was still nowhere to be seen in the crowd. She reclined her head back, falling once more into the holding pattern she’d grown accustomed to. The sun danced in between the swaying leaves of the canopy above, creating an almost kaleidoscopic effect that she could watch for hours.

  Why was she not surprised that he-

  A sharp tap-tap on her shoulder startled her from her reverie with a jolt. She yelped in surprise, caught totally unaware until the last moment and tipping over onto the ground, shoulder length hair falling over her face in a disorganized mess. The laughter of the person responsible was all too familiar to her, but she wiped her hair out of her face to get a good look at him. She grinned at his cheekiness, laughing along with him as he helped her back to her feet.

  “Hey Layla,” Henry announced. “Bet you thought I’d show up late again, didn’t you?”