The next morning, the quiet peace of our home had shattered, replaced by a frantic, loving chaos.
I woke to the sound of clattering pans and my mother's voice, thick with emotion, humming a familiar lullaby too briskly. The air was rich with the smell of sizzling bacon and sweet honey-cakes—a feast far beyond our usual means. My father, usually so measured and calm, was darting around the hearth, stoking the fire and fetching ingredients, his movements uncharacteristically hurried.
A lump formed in my throat. This wasn't just breakfast; it was a ritual, their way of pouring all the love and worry they couldn't put into words onto a plate.
I joined them without a word, taking up a knife to help chop vegetables. For a while, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the sizzle of food, and our synchronized movements—a final, silent dance of our family of three. When we finally sat down to eat, the table was overflowing. We ate, but the food tasted of bittersweet goodbyes.
After the meal, my mother looked me over, her eyes critical. She smoothed down the fabric of my worn tunic, her fingers lingering. "We can't let you go to the Academy looking like this," she declared, her voice firm despite the sheen in her eyes. "We're buying you new clothes."
We went to the nearest shop in the village, a place we usually only visited for mending thread or the most essential items. Today, it felt different. My parents insisted on buying me two new tunics of sturdy, good-quality linen, and a pair of trousers without a single patch. It was a small fortune to them, and their insistence brooked no argument.
Once home, the reality of the day settled in. I laid the new clothes and the fine leather bag from the Duchess on my bed. The small room felt suddenly too large, too empty. I began the solemn task of packing, folding my new clothes, my few personal treasures, and the sealed letter from the Duke. Each item placed in the bag felt like a step further away from the boy I had been and a step closer to the mage I was meant to become. The quiet act of packing was the true beginning of the end.
Then, my mother's voice called me to dinner our last supper in this home. The meal was a quiet, solemn affair, the air thick with unspoken words. Just as we finished, my father stood up with a strange, formal grace and disappeared into their bedroom. He returned, holding a small, clumsily iced cake, his hands trembling slightly.
My mother looked at me, her eyes glistening. "It's our way of saying goodbye, kiddo," my father said, his voice rough with emotion he could no longer suppress.
We ate the sweet cake, each bite a memory of simpler times. As the last crumbs were cleared, my father stood again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box, its deep blue color seeming out of place amidst the humble surroundings.
"Kairu," he said, using my name with a gravity that made my breath catch. "This… this will be our reminder. For when you're at that Academy and the world feels too grand, or you forget where you come from. You look at this, and you remember us." He placed the box in my hand. "What are you waiting for? Open it."
My heart hammered against my ribs. I lifted the lid. Nestled inside on a bed of black silk was a necklace. The chain was fine and strong, but it was the pendant that stole my breath. It was a lozenge of solid, polished gold, heavy and real. And etched into its gleaming surface in elegant, flowing script was a single name: Lyra.
I stared at it, confused and overwhelmed. Lyra? I looked up at my parents. My mother had a hand over her mouth, tears now streaming freely down her face. My father's expression was one of profound, painful love.
"It was your grandmother's name," my mother whispered. "My mother. She was the strongest woman I ever knew. She believed in a future she never got to see." Her eyes locked with mine. "Now it's yours. Carry her strength with you. Carry our strength with you."
I couldn't speak. The weight of the gold was nothing compared to the weight of their love. Of this history, I was only now understanding. I surged forward, wrapping my arms around both of them, pulling them into a hug so tight I thought I might never let go. They held me just as fiercely.
Finally, my father gently pulled back, his hands on my shoulders. "Now, you need to go and rest," he said, his voice firm but kind. "You've got a long way ahead of you. Don't forget."
I went to my room, and the golden necklace clutched in my palm. The room that had always felt so safe and familiar now felt strangely small. I fell into a fitful sleep, the cool, heavy metal of the pendant a constant, comforting presence against my skin, a tangible piece of my past, meant to guard my future.
The next morning, I was picking at my breakfast when the air in our small living room crackled. Before I could even react, two figures materialized out of nothingness Mirayne and the Duke, standing as calmly as ghosts in the morning light. I jumped, my spoon clattering to the floor.
The Duke gave a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry to startle you, kiddo. No time for carriages," he said, his voice brisk. "We will be teleporting directly to the Academy. It's time to go."
I frantically searched for my bag, found it, and pulled on the uniform. The Duke and my parents immediately started complimenting how well it fit. But Mirayne cut in, "We should hurry. The testing will begin soon."
After one last, tight hug from my mother and a firm hand on my shoulder from my father, we stepped outside. Mirayne said, "Hold my hand." I did, and the Duke took my other hand.
In an instant, the world dissolved and reformed.
We stood in the heart of Valerium. Everything glowed—street lamps, runes etched into marble buildings, even the air itself shimmered with latent magic. My eyes darted around, trying to take in the impossible scale and beauty of it all, but there was no time to stare. We moved swiftly through grand arches into the academy and straight to the testing grounds.
Mirayne and the Duke were guided to a raised seating area for honored guests. A proctor shoved a token into my hand: Number 63.
As I stood waiting in the crowded applicant area, Mirayne's voice echoed directly in my mind. "Observe the others. Do not just watch—learn."
I focused, and the pattern quickly became clear. There were five tests:magic quality, magic purity, Etherion area, endurance, and magic attribute...
Proctors called numbers, and one by one, kids stepped forward. I watched as a boy's magic was rated Medium and a girl's Low. With every result, my chest grew tighter. My palms grew slick. The line inched forward..
The proctor called number 63. I stepped forward, my heart pounding. An old woman with kind eyes and silver-streaked hair greeted me. "Now, child," she said gently, "you have five tests. The first is the quality of your magic." She pointed to a dark, smooth crystal ball on a pedestal. "Place your hand on it."
I hesitated, my fingers trembling.
"No need to be scared," she reassured me.
I took a deep breath and pressed my palm against the cool surface. Immediately, it glowed—but unlike before, the golden light was much less vibrant, while the purple shone with intense, deep color.
"Wow. Good quality of magic," she noted, her eyes widening slightly. "Now for its purity. I need you to channel a stream of your magic directly into the ball."
I gathered a thread of energy and directed it toward the crystal. Instead of glowing, the ball's surface began to show swirling, intricate marks like ancient runes. The proctor's face turned pale, then broke into a delighted smile.
"Completely pure magic," she whispered, writing something down with a shaking hand. "Remarkable."
She looked up. "Now, we'll conduct two tests at once. I want you to expand your Etherion as far as you can, while our mages apply pressure to test its endurance and measure its coverage."
Before I could respond, she teleported us to a vast, empty training ground. "Begin."
I closed my eyes and reached inward, pushing my Etherion outward. A wave of deep purple, threaded with faint gold, spread across the entire field, swallowing trees, hills, everything in sight.
"Unbelievable," the proctor breathed. "At your age... this scale..." She signaled to the mages, who began applying pressure. I felt it—a distant, barely noticeable weight, like a gentle hand trying to push back.
When we returned to the main testing area, the mages looked utterly exhausted. The proctor wrote "High" across multiple pages with a firm hand.
"Now for your attribution," she said, then paused. "Actually, I forgot to check it earlier. Let's return to the ball."
I placed my hand on the crystal once more. This time, it didn't glow at all.
"It seems your attribution isn't yet complete," she said thoughtfully. "But that's fine—it doesn't matter for now. You pass." She smiled warmly. "Those knights will show you to your room."
As the next number was called, I rushed to the Duke and Mirayane, hugging them tightly. "Thank you, Edryas and Mirayane. For everything."
"it's fine. Now go," Edryas said softly. Together, they vanished.
A knight guided me to a small, simple room. The moment I lay down, I fell into a deep sleep, only to wake the next day realizing with a jolt I was late for the opening ceremony.