The enormous building I’d seen in Professor Wilkins’ picture sat on a steep cliff, as if the foundation itself had been built into the rock formation. It looked to be centuries old, with its lichen-covered stones and intricately carved masonry rarely seen nowadays. A stone wall separated the campus from the surrounding woods, and what looked like a small town sat in the foothills of the cliff. The campus reminded me of something out of Dead Poets Society. Rich with tradition, opportunity. A dream. One too far out of reach for me.
