A/N: this is a one shot--at least for now. It's one of those ideas that have been floating around in my head and, since I needed a break from Rising Truth, I thought I'd put it down on paper. Depending on reviews, and if I have time, and a bunch of other things, I may expand on this. I know that it's short, but I think it gives a pretty good idea of the general tone of the story.

The doors were closed. Holland had to crane her neck back in order to see the top of them, several meters above her own average height. Her worn sneakers crunched softly in the gravel as she nervously shuffled her feet. The formidable entrance was made of giant slabs of wood, the kind that are so dark with age that they look to be more ancient than the earth itself. They had no carvings or ornamentation, nothing that could give Holland some idea of what she was getting herself into. The overall effect did absolutely nothing for her nerves.

Holland gulped and glanced around, tugging at a loose strand of her hair. A memory of her mother’s voice came into her head. “You keep doing that, girl, and you’ll have no hair left!” Holland grinned and dropped her hand. I wish mom could have come with me, she thought, feeling lonely and more like a child than an eighteen year old. The toe of one of her scuffing feet caught a rock and sent it rolling across the drive, the noise of its passage once again made her aware of the unnatural stillness and silence of this place.

Now that she thought about it, Holland had not heard so much as a bird’s song or felt even the slightest breeze on her face since crossing beneath the twisted wrought iron gates marking the entrance to the grounds. She subconsciously hunched her shoulders, almost like she was trying to brace herself for an attack from some unknown force.

“This is definitely not something Dad mentioned when he told me stories about the Magisters,” Holland muttered aloud. Even the sound of her own voice was deadened, as if on the way from her mouth to her ears, it had to pass through a wall. Get a grip, she thought, mentally shaking herself. It probably just has something to do with all of the power centered here. After all, the Magisters are the only ones who can wield magic. Holland felt a familiar humming in her torso, coming from the area beneath her breastbone. She allowed herself to feel the tiniest smidgeon of pride and grinned despite her apprehension. At least, they used to be the only ones…

Feeling much bolder, Holland marched over to the bell-pull she had spotted earlier; it was almost lost in the overpowering bigness of the doors. She yanked it firmly once, twice, and then backed away a few feet. Crossing her arms across the front of her t-shirt, Holland waited. Vaguely, she wondered whether she should have dressed up a bit more. No matter now, she told herself. Not that I own anything much better than this, anyway. The comfy black t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers she wore were pretty much the main staples of her wardrobe. They would have to do.

The door opened slowly with a boom that sounded like perhaps the world was splitting down the middle. Besides, Holland added inside her head as she watched the crack widen, I have the feeling that I might be grateful for the comfort later.

She clenched her jaw and entered the building with a measured pace, her back straight and her heart pounding.