The morning of their departure from the Knight Academy arrived with the kind of crisp clarity that made everything seem sharper, more significant. Zepp stood in the courtyard with her small collection of belongings—mostly the clothes that had been provided during her stay, along with a few personal items that had survived her journey from the Whispering Vale.
Mira Stoneheart was the first to approach, her usually cheerful demeanor subdued by the reality of saying goodbye to someone who had become a genuine friend in such a short time.
"You better write to us," she said, trying to maintain her characteristic optimism despite the obvious emotion in her voice. "I want to hear all about the fancy Magic Academy and whether their students are as stuck-up as everyone says they are."
"I'm sure they're not that bad," Zepp replied, though she wasn't entirely confident in her own assessment. The Royal Academy of Magical Arts had a reputation for academic excellence that often came paired with social elitism.
Darius Flameheart bounded over with his typical energetic enthusiasm, though even his boundless cheer couldn't entirely mask his disappointment at losing a friend. "Don't let all those theoretical wizards convince you that practical magic isn't important," he said with a grin that was only slightly forced. "Sometimes the best spell is the one that works, not the one that's most elegant according to some dusty textbook."
Aldwin Mistral approached more quietly, offering a simple nod that somehow conveyed more genuine warmth than elaborate speeches might have managed. "Take care of yourself," he said simply. "And don't be a stranger."
The farewells were brief but heartfelt, carrying the particular bittersweetness of friendships formed quickly under unusual circumstances. These people had accepted her when she was at her most vulnerable, had offered companionship without expecting anything in return, and had helped her remember what it felt like to be a normal young person with normal concerns.
Saya observed the emotional exchanges with her characteristic stoic composure, maintaining the professional demeanor that had become her trademark throughout their time together. But Zepp had learned to read the subtle signs that indicated the silver-haired knight was experiencing emotions she chose not to display publicly—the slight softening around her eyes, the barely perceptible relaxation of her usually rigid posture.
"Ready?" Saya asked once the formal goodbyes had been completed, her tone carrying the kind of practical efficiency that suggested it was time to focus on the next phase of their journey.
"As ready as I can be," Zepp replied, shouldering her travel pack with movements that had become practiced over the past weeks of constant relocation.
The representative from the Royal Academy of Magical Arts was waiting for them at the Knight Academy's main gate—a woman who appeared to be in her thirties, though something about her bearing suggested she might be older than her youthful appearance indicated. Her robes were cut in a style that managed to be both professionally appropriate and elegantly flattering, accentuating a figure that spoke of someone who took care of herself. Her manner was professionally cordial, but with an underlying confidence that came from someone accustomed to being noticed and respected.
"Miss Zepp, Miss Estavia," she said with a smile that was both genuine and slightly knowing. "I'm Professor Helena Brightmoon, Deputy Administrator for Student Affairs. I'll be escorting you to the Academy and helping you complete your enrollment procedures."
As they began walking through Adarante's streets toward the Academy district, Professor Brightmoon maintained a steady flow of informational commentary about the institution they would be joining, the academic standards they would be expected to meet, and the various resources available to help transfer students adapt to their new environment.
But as they progressed through the capital's winding thoroughfares, her conversation gradually shifted toward more personal topics.
"I understand you received your early magical education from a private tutor," she said to Zepp, her tone carrying the kind of casual curiosity that academics often displayed when encountering interesting educational backgrounds. "That's becoming increasingly rare in the eastern provinces. Most families prefer to send their children to established institutions rather than relying on individual instruction."
"Yes, ma'am," Zepp replied carefully, uncertain how much detail about her background was appropriate to share. "My master provided my basic education in magical theory and practical applications."
"And this master of yours," Professor Brightmoon continued, her interest clearly piqued by the implications of private magical education in one of the kingdom's more remote regions, "would you mind sharing their name? It helps us understand what foundational knowledge you're bringing to your studies, and we like to maintain records of the various educational lineages that contribute to our student body."
Zepp hesitated for a moment, not because she was reluctant to answer, but because she had never really thought of Selva in terms of reputation or professional standing within the broader magical community.
"Selva," she said simply. "She had a tower in the Whispering Vale, near the village of Dophis."
The effect of this revelation was immediate and dramatic.
Professor Brightmoon stopped walking so abruptly that Saya nearly collided with her, while her expression shifted from polite academic interest to something approaching shock. For several seconds, she stared at Zepp with the kind of intense scrutiny usually reserved for examining rare artifacts or impossible phenomena.
"Selva?" she repeated, her voice carrying a note of disbelief that suggested she was questioning either her own hearing or Zepp's honesty. "Just... Selva? The Selva? The Mistress of the Eastern Mysteries, Keeper of the Lost Arts, the mage who single-handedly held the line against the Shadowmere Incursion fifteen years ago?"
Zepp blinked in confusion, trying to reconcile this description with the perpetually detached woman who had raised her—someone who looked barely older than Zepp herself despite clearly having lived for decades, her youthful appearance unchanged by whatever passage of time had given her such a legendary reputation. "I... yes, that's her name, but I think you might have her confused with someone else. My master mostly just studied old books and helped villagers with healing potions and minor enchantments."
The look that Professor Brightmoon gave her suggested that she was either completely naive or engaged in some form of elaborate deception. "Young lady, Selva is widely regarded as the most powerful and knowledgeable mage in the eastern territories. Possibly in the entire kingdom. She's a legend among magical scholars, renowned for her mastery of theoretical frameworks that most practitioners can't even comprehend, let alone apply."
Saya's expression had shifted to match the professor's amazement, though her reaction seemed to involve more pieces of a puzzle suddenly falling into place rather than simple surprise.
"She's known throughout the kingdom for refusing all students," Professor Brightmoon continued, her academic excitement overriding her professional restraint. "Dozens of noble families have offered fortunes to secure her instruction for their children. The Royal Academy itself has extended multiple invitations for her to join our faculty, all of which she's declined without explanation. The general assumption has been that she considers formal education beneath her attention."
"But she took you as her apprentice," Saya observed quietly, her tone suggesting that this revelation explained several questions that had been puzzling her since their first meeting.
"I don't understand," Zepp said, genuine bewilderment coloring her voice. "Selva never mentioned any of this. She was just... there. She taught me basic herb lore, some healing techniques, how to read the old manuscripts. Nothing that seemed particularly special or advanced."
Professor Brightmoon's laugh held a note of incredulous admiration. "Basic herb lore from Selva would encompass alchemical principles that our advanced students struggle to master. Her 'simple' healing techniques probably incorporate theoretical frameworks that we teach as graduate-level coursework. And as for 'reading old manuscripts'..." She shook her head in amazement. "She possesses one of the most comprehensive private libraries of pre-kingdom magical texts in existence. Scholars have been trying to gain access to her collection for decades."
As the implications of what she was hearing began to sink in, Zepp felt a growing sense of disconnection from her own past. The quiet life she had lived in the tower, the routine lessons that had seemed like basic education, the casual way Selva had shared knowledge that was apparently beyond the reach of most practicing mages—all of it took on entirely different significance when viewed through the lens of her master's true reputation.
"She really never told you any of this?" Professor Brightmoon asked, her tone mixing sympathy with continued amazement.
"She never talked about her past at all," Zepp replied, her voice small as she tried to process the revelation that her entire childhood had been shaped by someone whose true nature she had never understood. "She just... was there. Teaching me things I thought everyone knew."
"The most valuable magical education in the kingdom," Saya said quietly, "and you thought it was normal."
The rest of their journey to the Academy passed in thoughtful silence, broken occasionally by Professor Brightmoon's attempts to understand exactly what kind of instruction Zepp had received and her growing excitement about the academic implications of having Selva's only known student joining their student body.
The Royal Academy of Magical Arts proved to be every bit as impressive as its reputation suggested. The campus sprawled across several city blocks, its buildings representing different architectural styles accumulated over centuries of expansion and renovation. The original structures bore the elegant lines of classical design, while newer additions incorporated modern magical engineering that allowed for features like self-cleaning windows, climate-controlled interiors, and libraries whose shelves could rearrange themselves according to research needs.
Students moved between buildings with the kind of purposeful energy that marked academic environments during active term periods, their robes color-coded to indicate year level. The diversity was immediately apparent—young people from across the kingdom and beyond, representing every possible combination of magical aptitude and social background that could afford the Academy's tuition and meet its rigorous admission standards.
"Your enrollment paperwork has already been processed," Professor Brightmoon explained as they approached the main administrative building. "You'll both be classified as third-year students, which should provide an appropriate balance between academic challenge and social integration with your age peers."
The enrollment process itself was surprisingly straightforward, involving mainly the signing of documents, the assignment of student identification numbers, and the assignment to Class 3-A, their designated homeroom for the remainder of their academic career at the Academy.
"All third-year students follow the same curriculum," Professor Brightmoon explained as they reviewed their schedules. "Thirty students per class, all taking identical courses during the same periods. This system ensures that everyone receives equal education regardless of their background or family connections—a policy the Academy implemented to prevent social stratification from affecting academic opportunities."
Zepp found herself looking at a schedule that was the same as every other third-year student's: Magical Theory first period, Advanced Herbalism second period, Practical Spellcasting third period, lunch, Magical History fourth period, Elementary Combat Magic fifth period, and Theoretical Applications sixth period. It was demanding but felt more manageable than trying to navigate individually chosen courses that might vary wildly in difficulty or content.
"Class 3-A has twenty-eight current students," Professor Brightmoon continued, "so you'll be joining as the twenty-ninth and thirtieth members. Perfect timing, actually—the class size limit is thirty, so you're filling the last available spots."
For Academy purposes, Saya had chosen to be known as Estavia rather than Saya—a decision that provided additional separation between her official protective role and her student identity.
"I prefer 'Estavia' here," she explained quietly when Zepp asked about the name choice. "It maintains appropriate professional distance while allowing me to blend in with other students who have backgrounds in military training."
Their first stop was Class 3-A's homeroom, a spacious classroom designed to accommodate thirty students comfortably. Large windows provided natural light that was supplemented by floating orbs of magical illumination, while the walls were lined with educational materials and motivational texts about the nobility of magical study.
Twenty-eight students were already present, their conversations dying down as Professor Brightmoon entered with the two newcomers. The existing class members ranged across the typical spectrum of Academy demographics—some clearly from wealthy families based on their clothing and bearing, others who appeared to be scholarship students from more modest backgrounds, with most falling somewhere in the middle of the social spectrum.
"Class 3-A," Professor Brightmoon announced, her voice carrying the kind of authority that immediately focused everyone's attention. "I'd like to introduce your new classmates. As you know, we've been waiting for our final two students to complete the class roster."
She gestured toward Zepp and Estavia, who stood at the front of the classroom under the scrutiny of nearly thirty pairs of curious eyes. "Please introduce yourselves to your new classmates."
Zepp felt her cheeks warm under the collective attention, but she managed to maintain her composure as she stepped forward. "Hello, everyone. I'm Zepp. I'm transferring here from... a private education situation in the eastern provinces. I'm looking forward to studying with all of you and learning from the Academy's curriculum."
She kept her introduction brief and general, avoiding details that might raise questions about her unusual background or the circumstances that had brought her to the capital.
Estavia stepped forward with the kind of confident bearing that immediately marked her as someone accustomed to formal presentations. "I'm Estavia Gisla. I'm transferring from military training to continue my academic education here. My specialty is light magic, and I have experience in combat applications of magical theory."
Her introduction was professional and informative without being boastful, striking exactly the right tone for someone with an impressive background who wanted to fit in rather than stand out.
The class responded with the kind of polite attention that suggested they were accustomed to receiving transfer students, though several members seemed particularly interested in Estavia's military background and the rare specialty of light magic.
"Excellent," Professor Brightmoon said with satisfaction. "You'll have plenty of time to get better acquainted as the term progresses. For now, please take the two remaining seats—" she pointed toward empty desks near the middle of the classroom "—and we'll begin with first period."
Their first period was Magical Theory, conducted right in their homeroom classroom with their assigned teacher, Professor Marcus Stormfeld—an elderly man whose beard appeared to be enchanted to change colors according to his emotional state. The intimate class setting meant that all thirty students could participate in discussions and receive individual attention when needed.
Professor Stormfeld launched immediately into a review of fundamental principles that would serve as the foundation for the day's new material. Zepp recognized most of the concepts from her childhood lessons with Selva, though the formal academic presentation made familiar ideas seem more complex and intimidating than they had when learned through practical application.
As the lecture progressed, Zepp found herself in the strange position of understanding the underlying principles being discussed while struggling with the specialized terminology and theoretical frameworks being used to describe them. It was like listening to someone explain a language she spoke fluently using grammatical rules she had never formally learned.
The day continued with their class moving together as a unit to different specialized classrooms for each subject period. Advanced Herbalism was conducted in a greenhouse laboratory where all thirty students could work with live specimens. Practical Spellcasting took place in a reinforced practice room designed to contain magical accidents. Each classroom was equipped to handle exactly thirty students, with materials and equipment distributed equally among all class members.
The uniform system meant that Zepp and Estavia experienced exactly the same curriculum as their classmates, participated in the same exercises, and received the same foundational education that every third-year student at the Academy was expected to master.
Most challenging was Magical History, where the professor's lecture on the post-empire period included references to events and figures that put her own experiences into contexts she had never considered. The casual mention of ancient powers stirring in remote regions, the discussion of sealed ruins and forgotten magical sites, the analysis of contemporary threats to magical stability—all of it felt personally relevant in ways that made her uncomfortably aware of her own connection to forces the academic world studied in theoretical terms.
Between class periods, she and Estavia moved with their classmates through the Academy's corridors, gradually beginning to learn names and form initial impressions of the people they would be spending the next several years studying alongside. The social dynamics were typical of any group of thirty young people thrown together by institutional necessity—some immediate friendships, some obvious personality conflicts, and most relationships falling into the comfortable middle ground of polite cooperation.
Lunch was served in the Academy's main dining hall, where Class 3-A sat together at designated tables that encouraged class cohesion while allowing interaction with students from other year levels. Several of their new classmates made efforts to include Zepp and Estavia in conversations about Academy traditions, professor personalities, and the unofficial social rules that governed student life.
The afternoon brought more specialized classes: Elementary Combat Magic, where Zepp struggled with exercises that required precise magical control, and Theoretical Applications, where her informal education proved surprisingly relevant to discussions of advanced concepts.
By evening, when they finally returned to their assigned dormitory rooms, Zepp felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information, social interaction, and academic expectations that had defined her first day as a Magic Academy student.
Her dormitory room was comfortable but modest, equipped with the basics necessary for student life: a bed, desk, wardrobe, and small shelf for personal belongings. The window offered a view of one of the Academy's courtyards, where students gathered in small groups to study, socialize, or practice spells that required outdoor space.
As she unpacked her few possessions and arranged them in ways that might make the institutional space feel more personal, Zepp found herself reflecting on the day's revelations about her past, her education, and the true significance of knowledge she had taken for granted throughout her childhood.
Somewhere in the Whispering Vale, Selva was probably sitting in her tower, reading ancient texts with the same casual detachment she had always displayed, completely unaware that her former apprentice was struggling to understand the true nature of what she had learned during their years together.
The thought brought a mixture of gratitude and frustration that would probably take considerable time to fully process.
But for now, it was enough to have survived her first day in an environment that promised to be both challenging and transformative in ways she couldn't yet predict. Tomorrow would bring new classes, new challenges, and new opportunities to understand both the magical world she was entering and her own place within it.
As she settled into her narrow bed and listened to the sounds of Academy life continuing around her—distant conversations, the occasional magical experiment, the rustle of students moving through corridors—Zepp allowed herself a moment of quiet satisfaction at having successfully taken the first steps toward whatever her future might hold.
The girl who had once delivered healing herbs to grateful villagers was gone forever, replaced by someone whose story was still being written but whose potential was finally beginning to be recognized and developed by people qualified to guide its emergence.
It was, she reflected as sleep began to claim her, exactly what she had hoped for when she first fled into the forest so many weeks ago. The chance to become someone worthy of the rescue that had saved her life, and the opportunity to transform her dangerous abilities into something that could protect rather than threaten the people she cared about.
The real work of that transformation was only just beginning.