There are billions of theories on the passing of time, none of which are entirely accurate. For how can anyone understand a problem when half the equation is missing? To understand time, one must first understand the extent of the universe. Time is a force that surrounds us from the moment we open our eyes. It begins with our first breath, the first of billions we will take in our lifetime. Each heartbeat and flutter of our lashes counts down to when it will all inevitably cease.

However, time is not simply a set of numbers, a circling clock that ticks away the seconds in a perfect measure. Time is a force like light and sound. It can be harnessed and warped, flipped upside down and folded. Each moment can stretch like a rubber band and snap back just the same. It is a rhythmic thrum like that of a hummingbird's wings. Yet, now and again, it will skip, pause, or pick up to double time.

There are those perceptive enough to notice and those who move along as if nothing ever changed. No one comes out of the womb with infinite knowledge. There is always a moment in which a person's life changes and they discover whether they will walk the line laid out before them or be the one to draw it.

The day that forever altered Lilly Cole's life did not begin as anything extraordinary. It was chilly in New York City, though nothing remarkable for late November. A blustery breeze swept through the streets, dragging along stray pieces of trash and hissing through bare branches.

As Lilly stared up at the impeccable towering brownstone, she found it more daunting than expected. On her subway ride to Upper Manhattan, Lilly had an endless stream of questions rehearsed to perfection in her mind. She'd stayed up all night going over the possible topics of conversation -- Her resume, her passions, and why she wanted to attend Brown University come spring semester. It was a question she didn't know the answer to. She had a response formulated to fill the silence, but it did not hold any weight in her heart.

To be entirely honest, Lilly wasn't sure why she wanted to attend Brown. Perhaps it was merely the prestige of an Ivy League university that drew her to it, or it could be the possibility to explore her mind and soul deeper than she'd previously gone.

She'd always been an ambitious woman in her formative years, and it was no different at twenty-six. There wasn't a time that she could recall being entirely satisfied with anything. Her life was a never-ending search for something more. She just couldn't quite figure out what. So Lilly reached and ran for every accomplishment she could dream of. If someone took a look at her life on paper, it would seem she had it all figured out. She had a mother that loved her, a university degree with high honors, and a job with the most prestigious museum in the city, working with highly valuable historical documents. She was a successful woman, and yet something was missing. There was always something missing— a chip in the fine China that was Lilly Cole. So despite having everything she could hope for at her fingertips, she had decided to return to school.

As Lilly ascended the stone steps of the interviewer's home and office, she took a deep calming breath and plastered a friendly smile onto her face. Her knocks were sharp and firm, a perfect set of three raps of the golden knocker. Lilly pulled at the hem of her blazer as she stood in wait. Honey blonde wisps of hair framed her face, pulled free from her braid by blustery winds.

Two people about her age strode down the sidewalk with arms hooked, and while she'd expected them to pass by without a second glance, they paused beside the very steps Lilly stood upon. The woman's long chestnut hair was curled in loose ringlets and left to flow freely past her shoulders. A blush of pink bloomed across her pale cheeks and small nose from the nipping air. She wore a red and blue plaid scarf and a well-tailored wool coat. There was an air of easy confidence in this woman. The sort of confidence that made the man look out of place on her arm.

He was entirely the opposite. His unkempt hair was cut to chin length and looked as if he'd brushed it through too many times trying to tame it. The wrinkled button-up and a tweed jacket were too large for his narrow shoulders. He reminded her of a child playing dress-up in his father's closet. The man's entire demeanor was stiff and uneasy. His forehead creased with worry as his left hand held tight to his messenger bag like a lifeline. Lilly had the feeling that beneath his skin, he was squirming.

"Are you here for an interview, too?" Lilly asked, partially to satiate her curiosity and to avoid uncomfortable silence. The man looked taken aback by her question, and she couldn't blame him. It was Manhattan. New York had many things, but small talk was certainly not one of them. His companion smiled up at Lilly as she took the first step, resting a gloved hand on the railing.

"Well, I'm not, but he is." She pointed to her friend. "I'm just here for moral support." Her smile was radiant as she extended a hand in greeting. "I'm Julia, and this is Quentin." Quentin forced a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. He hovered at the bottom of the steps as if ready to turn around and go home.

"Lilly," she shook Julia's hand in return.

"I-I didn't know there was anyone else interviewing right now?" Quentin looked her up and down observantly. His voice was uncertain, and his words caught on a slight stutter.

"My appointment is at three-thirty, so I'm right on time." Lilly pulled the sleeve of her jacket back and glanced at the ticking watch on her wrist. It was a handsome thing, her timepiece -- A gift from her mother on the eve of her twenty-first birthday. Of course, the gift was given via a surrogate, her best friend, Cara. Evelyn Cole had been away on business as she often was during special events. "Are you early?" Julia and Quentin exchanged a puzzled look.

"No, mine's at three-thirty, too." Quentin gripped the strap of his messenger bag tighter, adjusting it every few seconds as if he could pull it like a ripcord. His weight shifted between his feet, and the fabric of his pants hissed with friction.

"They must've double booked us or something." Lilly's brows furrowed as she glanced at the door, still shut and not a peep from the other side. Maybe they hadn't heard her knock? Julia placed a tender hand on Quentin's arm.

"Q, it's fine, don't worry." He looked as if he might be sick. Julia's reassurances likely only exacerbated things. "Let's just go in and get this sorted out." Lilly nodded encouragement, and Quentin's expression softened at Julia's touch.

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding." Lilly was reassuring herself as much as him.

"We should, uh, head inside then." Quentin piped up, glancing apprehensively towards the door.

"I knocked, but no one answered."

"Strange," Julia stepped up beside Lilly and lifted the knocker. The rapping was as sharp and resonating as it had been before. Quentin ran a tense hand through his hair, and Lilly tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. There was no response nor the slightest stir from within. Julia shared a quizzical look with her peers and knocked again, practically pounding on it like a furious landlord. Still, no answer. Julia fumbled with the handle for a moment. It swung open with a drawn-out squeal into a grand antique foyer. Julia turned back and shrugged. The old wood floors creaked beneath her feet as she stepped inside, Lilly following close behind and Quentin reluctantly after.

"Hello?" Julia's voice drifted through archways and open doors. Still not a sound in return. The interior was as exquisite as expected for an Ivy League alumni. The entryway was lined with gold-framed works of art that Lilly was sure cost more than a year's rent at her apartment. A grand deep wood staircase was centered ahead of them, leading to the second floor and opening in two separate directions. The building was historical, as stated by the stone plaque by the front door. Antique vases, marble busts, and exotic potted plants adorned the walls and corners. It was the home of a scholar. Quentin shut the door behind them with a final click. It was almost entirely quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the street they left behind and the rhythmic tick, tick, tick of a phantom clock.

"Um...it's Quentin Coldwater," his voice wavered with uncertainty, "for the grad school interview?" The sentence felt more like a question than a statement. Lilly's eyes scanned everything with inquisition. She began to think they were the victims of a catastrophic scheduling mishap. Either that or they were the new contestants on a prank show.

She made her way towards a pair of open french doors and peered inside. Immediately her eyes widened at the sight of a towering antique grandfather clock, centered on the left wall and framed by shelves and shelves of thick spined books.

"Is that-" Her feet carried her forward without thought or plan as if pulled by an invisible string of gold.

"I don't believe it," They stood in the shadow of a hulking mahogany grandfather clock. A big fat brass face was orbited by four smaller dials tracking the months, the phases of the moon, and the signs of the zodiac, all framed in an intricately carved design. Erupting from the crown were two massive ram heads, one might assume to represent the sign of Aries, but any Fillory fan knew that these were the Gods Ember and Umber.

"An exact replica of the clock from Fillory, those books are a literary masterpiece. I still read them." Quentin glanced over at her in bewilderment. She didn't notice, too absorbed in the clock towering over them like a Roman statue. Fillory and Further was the most beloved of all the books Lilly had ever read. Stories of fantastical adventure and a world of magic were a sweet spot in her heart. Her love of literature began at a tender age, inspired by her mother.

Looking back on her childhood, Lilly could now understand that those gifts were, in fact, just a consolation, a filler for the space her mother left behind when choosing business over her daughter. Though as a girl, those gifts had been a treasure. A story from each place her mother traveled. A copy of Alice and Wonderland from the stacks of Washington D.C., Pride and Prejudice from a Parisian vendor, and Fillory and Further, procured within piles of antiques in London.

"You're a Fillory fan?" Quentin raised his brows with surprise. Lilly tilted her head to examine the swinging pendulum and nodded. She could hear Julia slowly making her way towards them from the other room, each step crackling over the floorboards, but that wasn't what startled the two. Julia's ear-splitting shriek echoed deafeningly throughout the room. Lilly let out a startled gasp, her body jerking around to face the room behind her.

The old man lay, draped lifelessly across an overstuffed armchair in the corner of the room, his eyes wide and unfocused. She hadn't even noticed him as she entered, pressed into the shadows along the same wall as the door. His hair was pure white with age, his hands wrinkled and kinked as it hung limply over the side. Shattered glass and milk splattered across the floor beneath him. The sickening blue tint of his skin confirmed her suspicions. A shiver of fear ran up her spine as her stomach dropped. This man was dead before them.

"Oh my God, call 911!" She managed to choke out, gripping onto the back of a chair for support. Quentin whipped his phone out of the back pocket of his pants, frantically dialing the three numbers. Julia stumbled away from the man and hurried over to Quentin. Quentin's hands shook violently, his breathing sharp and uneven.

"Hi, we just found a dead body, and we need help, like -- right now," he spoke breathlessly into the phone, rattling off the address in between his nervous stuttering. His free hand ran through his hair as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. "They're on their way and should be here in a few minutes. Until then, uh, just- don't touch the body."

"Yeah, cause that was my first thought," Lilly muttered, her eyes still locked on the body strewn across the chair in the corner. His eyes were hauntingly empty, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were fixated directly on her. Quentin managed to corral her into the other room a moment later, where they waited in heavy silence for the police to arrive. As promised, a few minutes later, blaring sirens and flashing lights pulled up outside the building, and the paramedics filed inside the townhome.

Lilly and Quentin sat stiffly in the two armchairs that weren't the ones housing a dead body. The room had been filled with bustling paramedics and police as they cataloged the scene, examined the body, and finally wrapped it up in a bag. The police had already taken a statement from Quentin, and they'd just pulled Julia aside. A blonde woman in a paramedic uniform leaned over the body with a clipboard clutched to her chest.

"Well, he's dead." Her voice held a distinctly British accent. "By the looks of him he was a big--" She gestured to symbolize a bottle. She nodded to a fellow paramedic, and the body bag zipped with one fluid motion. Lilly and Quentin shared a look, both taken aback by her blunt attitude. It was not how they expected someone to speak of a man found dead in his home.

"I'm sorry?" Quentin muttered, more a question than an apology.

"Why? Did ya' kill him?" She fired back with a straight face. Lilly's brows furrowed at the woman's lack of manners, and she glanced over at Quentin in silent commiseration.

"No, Jesus." Quentin was just as irritated with the paramedic as she was, and Lilly rolled her eyes at the woman.

"I was kidding." She smiled at the two as if they were the ones behaving strangely. If it was a joke, it certainly wasn't a funny one.

"Not very well," Lilly mumbled under her breath. The woman's smile didn't fade as Lilly watched her. Something stirred in the back of her mind, like a memory long forgotten in a storm. There was something undeniably familiar about this woman, though, for the life of her, Lilly couldn't figure out what. "Have we ever--"

"Oh!" The woman exclaimed as if having only just remembered something of great importance. She threw her arm up in a grand gesture. Lilly started beside Quentin at the sudden flurry of movement. "I think he left something for you." The paramedic rounded the heavy oak desk positioned before the window and produced a thick stack of papers from the pile of junk atop the workspace. It was a wonder that she managed to spot it, let alone put together that it was meant for them.

"Me?" Lilly's shock was painted plainly across her face.

"Both of you, actually," the woman held out the stack expectantly, the front half of the papers flopping over towards them. Neither made a move to accept it. "C'mon, take it," she wiggled it beneath their noses like a mother attempting to entice a child with a piece of broccoli.

"But, isn't this evidence or something?" Lilly's eyes shifted between the pile of papers, the woman, and Quentin with the same bewildered expression. Quentin seemed just as skeptical as she, his nose scrunched in confusion.

"Um, can we go now?" Julia's voice sounded from the doorway. She looked drained from the short questioning. The Paramedic diverted her attention to the young woman and nodded with a smile.

"Miss Cole will have to make a statement before she can leave, but you two are free to go. It shouldn't take long." The woman directed the last bit towards Lilly, whose shoulders slumped.

"Q, come on, let's go," Julia called, gesturing for him to follow her out. He looked between her and the paramedic, who held the stack of papers out to him with a jut of her chin. He leaned forward and hesitantly accepted them. Quentin's jacket rustled as he stood from his chair and looked down upon Lilly.

"I guess I'll, uh, wait for you outside, then." Neither was quite sure how to handle their shared custody of the mysterious paper pile, but his idea was as good as any. Lilly nodded and watched Quentin join his friend in the doorway.

"Bye, Lilly," Julia muttered. "It was nice to meet you, even if it was under such unfortunate circumstances." Lilly smiled back with a halfhearted wave. The police only asked her a couple of questions as it was pretty clear that there was no foul play involved. The woman hadn't been lying when she said it wouldn't take long, and after only a few minutes, she was free to go. Grabbing her bag, she absconded from the building, not wanting to be there a moment longer than required. The bracing air was a relief after being stuck inside with a dead man, hordes of cops, paramedics, and their equipment for the better part of an hour. Quentin Coldwater had claimed the bottom step. His back was to her, the papers still clutched in his hands as he scanned the first few pages.

"Hey," his head whipped around in alarm. Then, registering that it was Lilly, he stood and wiped hastily at his blotchy cheeks, "did Julia leave?" His expression was strained, his eyes rimmed with the last dregs of tears. Lilly didn't ask if he was alright or point out his distress. It would do nothing but embarrass him. Though she couldn't help but wonder what had transpired in the few minutes they were apart.

"Oh, um, yeah, she had some errands to run..." he muttered, eyes resting anywhere but on hers. This was not the reason for Julia's absence, but she knew better than to pry. She had only just met this man. It wasn't her place.

"Well, I'm not going to try to hide the fact that I'm very curious about what that is." Lilly nodded in the direction of the papers, and Quentin's face seemed to light up at the mere mention. "Something good, I take it?" He held out the stack for her to examine, a brilliant smile curving his lips.

"More than good." Lilly took a minute to scan the parchment. Instead of the modern pristine white printer paper, these were marred with age. A crescent moon coffee stain had caused the ink to bleed on the title page, but the type was still legible.

Fillory and Further, Book Six: The Magicians

"This is a joke." Lilly's eyes locked with Quentin's, and a bubble of laughter escaped her. Her lips curled into an accidental grimace. When he showed no sign of humor, her hesitant amusement dissolved. "You've got to be kidding?"

"Trust me, I don't kid about Fillory." His grin was blinding as he took two swift steps to her side. "Look at the date." Quentin reached across her and pointed to the lower-left corner. "1952," he read aloud, a glint of childlike excitement in his tawny brown eyes.

"Oh my God." A true smile began to curl the edges of her pink-tinged lips, but she shoved it down as soon as it began. She'd identified enough forgeries in her career to know this was very likely too good to be true. "This can't be real. It's probably just really dedicated fanfiction."

"But, what if it's not?" Quentin planted a seed of hope in her mind, and the longer she held the manuscript in her hands, the more that seed took root. "If this is for real, it would be a monumental discovery," she attempted to quell her excitement at the prospect.

"But, if this is real, how did he have it? Why did he give it to us? I've never seen that man before in my life, and we just met an hour ago." Lilly's mind was a labyrinth of unanswered questions and dead ends. None of this made sense, and the harder she tried to put the pieces together, the more scrambled they became.

"I don't know, but I want to find out," Quentin looked hopefully towards the woman who was scarcely more than a stranger to him. They'd found themselves intertwined on the precipice of a fantastical adventure. If there was one thing Lilly could never resist, it was the opportunity for discovery.

"Alright, let's figure this out."