Chapter सत्य युग
I was a Hogwarts misfit, sneaking cigarettes and bootleg hexes behind the Shrieking Shack. I felt consistently lonely and tortured until the night that blood magic changed my life and taught me to change my skin from the inside out. Even so, there weren’t a whole lot of other weirdos doing time in the Bodhidharma Breakfast Club, so I threw pencils into the ceiling tiles while dreaming of Tantric entanglements with the preacher’s daughter. In art class I sculpted talismans to make myself invisible.
I squeaked by in the Invisible College with a 2.9 GPA in Sorcerous Studies and Dhol Chants, leaving me with an impressive pile of highly decorative books and student loans that would send lesser students screaming for the rectory.
But my real passion was for the studies that can only occur among friends in late night coffee shops choked with cigarette smoke. It’s a heady thing, the siren song of the coven. For the first time I had a company of peers, fellows vibrating on a cosmic wavelength of Adderall abuse and magical midrash and red eyes and espresso cups leaving umber circles on ancient grimoires. Long nights stretched into seeming infinities, bleeding into each other as we ourselves bled into each others’ lives.
We learned secrets: Everything is True, False, and Meaningless, in some sense. There are mushrooms that can show you the afterlife. Anxiety is a nutrient bath for poltergeists. The sorcerer can be intoxicated by the mere sight of water.
Slowly over the span of years those golden threads we had discovered in each other were forged into chains of dharma and delight, a circle against the world.