The morning sun filtered through the ancient trees of Whispering Grove, painting everything in shades of gold and green. Mika burst through the cottage door like a small tornado, her wild black hair tangled with leaves and twigs, her bare feet covered in mud.
"I caught one! I actually caught one!" she shrieked, holding up a wriggling fish that was nearly as long as her arm.
Inside the cozy cottage, Garrett looked up from the table where he'd been sharpening his hunting knife. His weathered face split into a grin beneath his thick beard. "Did you now? Or did that fish take pity on you and jump into your hands?"
"Papa!" Mika stomped her muddy foot, making Sera,who was stirring a pot over the fire,wince at the dirt now scattered across her clean floor. "I used the technique you showed me! The patient one! I stood in the stream for like... forever!"
"Forever meaning five whole minutes?" Garrett's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"At least ten!" Mika protested, though her grin betrayed her exaggeration. She held up the fish proudly. "See? Big enough for breakfast!"
Sera turned from the fire, her silver-streaked hair catching the light. Despite the faint exasperation in her eyes at the muddy footprints, her smile was warm. "That's wonderful, little spark. But next time, perhaps *clean* the fish outside before bringing it through my kitchen?"
Mika looked down at the fish, which was now dripping water and scales all over the wooden floor. "Oh. Right. Sorry, Mama!"
She spun on her heel to rush back outside, but Garrett caught her by the back of her shirt. "Slow down, whirlwind. You'll break your neck moving that fast." But he was laughing as he said it, ruffling her already impossibly messy hair.
Mika squirmed free and darted outside, already chattering about how she was going to catch an even bigger fish tomorrow, maybe two, maybe a whole school of them, and then they could have a feast, and she'd invite all the deer she'd named, and—
"That girl," Sera said softly, watching through the window as Mika crouched by the stream, attempting to clean the fish with more enthusiasm than skill. "She has so much light in her."
Garrett came up behind his wife, wrapping his large arms around her waist. "She gets that from you."
"She gets her stubbornness from you." But Sera leaned back against him, her voice troubled. "Garrett... I worry about her. When we're gone, when she's older... the world isn't kind to girls who shine too brightly."
His arms tightened slightly. "Then we teach her to be strong enough that the world can't dim her light." His voice dropped. "She'll need that strength, I think. Sooner than we'd like."
Sera nodded, her hand drifting to touch the wrapped sword that always leaned near the door,the mysterious sealed blade they'd been entrusted with ten years ago, told only to keep it safe and give it to Mika when the time was right. They'd never been told what "right" meant, or why it mattered. Just that it did.
"Mama! It's ready! Kind of! I think!" Mika's voice shattered the somber moment.
Garrett chuckled. "Better go help her before she tries to cook it herself and burns down the forest."
***
After breakfast,where Mika insisted her slightly-too-raw, definitely-too-salty fish was "the best thing ever"—Garrett stood and stretched. "Training time, squirt. You've been slacking."
"I haven't been slacking!" Mika jumped up so fast her chair nearly tipped over. "I've been practicing! I did the spinny thing and the jumpy thing and—"
"The spinny thing and the jumpy thing have *names*, Mika. And you need to learn them properly." He headed toward the door, grabbing his old training sword from its hook. "Grab your stick."
"It's not a stick, it's my *sword*!" Mika protested, but she was already running to fetch the wooden practice blade Garrett had carved for her. It was worn smooth from use, with her name burned into the handle,a gift from her father on her eighth birthday.
The training clearing behind the cottage was Mika's favorite place. The grass was trampled flat from years of footwork drills, and the three wooden practice dummies Garrett had built stood like silent sentinels around the edges. Mika had named them all: Big Ugly, Small Ugly, and Steve.
"Why is that one named Steve?" Garrett had asked when she first announced it.
"Because he looks like a Steve," Mika had replied, as if this explained everything.
Now, Garrett took his position in the center of the clearing, practice sword held loosely. "Stance."
Mika immediately dropped into what she thought was a proper fighting stance,feet apart, knees bent, practice sword held in both hands. Her form was... creative. One foot was pointed the wrong way, her grip was too tight, and her shoulders were hunched up near her ears.
Garrett sighed. "Mika."
"What? I'm doing it!"
"You're doing *something*." He walked over, using the flat of his blade to tap her back foot. "Turn it out. You'll trip yourself." Tap to her shoulders. "Relax. You're not lifting a boulder." Tap to her hands. "Soften your grip. The sword is a partner, not a prisoner."
Mika adjusted, her tongue poking out in concentration. "Like this?"
"Better." Garrett stepped back. "Now. First form. Slowly."
Mika began the sequence he'd taught her,a basic series of strikes and blocks that every sword student learned. But "slowly" wasn't really in Mika's vocabulary. Within three moves, she was speeding up, adding little flourishes, spinning when she was supposed to step, jumping when she was supposed to pivot.
"Mika!" Garrett barked. "I said *slowly*!"
"But slow is boring!" She completed a wild spinning strike that would have taken her head clean off if she'd actually been holding a real blade. "See? That worked!"
"That worked because you're fighting *air*!" Garrett ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Mika had inherited. "Against a real opponent, you'd be dead three times over. You're all flash and no foundation."
"But flash is *cool*!" Mika protested. She struck a dramatic pose, practice sword held high. "One day I'm gonna be the greatest sword master ever, and everyone will be like, 'Wow, look at those cool moves!'"
Despite his frustration, Garrett couldn't help but smile. "And how do you think the greatest sword masters got that way? They learned the boring parts first."
Mika's shoulders slumped. "Fiiiiine." She reset her stance, this time actually attempting to slow down.
They worked through the morning, Garrett calling corrections, Mika alternating between focused determination and distracted daydreaming. At one point, a butterfly landed on her practice sword mid-swing, and she froze, eyes wide with delight.
"Papa, look! It likes my sword!"
"Mika, focus."
"But it's *purple*! That's my favorite color! Well, one of my favorites. Red is also good. And green. And—"
"Mika."
"Right. Sorry. Focusing." But she was grinning as the butterfly flew away, and Garrett noticed she watched it go with the kind of wonder that made his heart ache.
*She's still so young,* he thought. *Still sees magic in everything.*
They broke for lunch when the sun was high. Sera had prepared vegetable stew and fresh bread, and Mika ate like she hadn't seen food in days, talking non-stop between bites.
"—and then the butterfly was purple, did you see, Mama? And I did the form almost right, Papa said so, well he said 'better' which is almost the same thing, and tomorrow can we practice the jumping technique? The one where you flip over the bad guy? That one's so cool, and I bet I could do it, I'm really good at jumping, remember when I jumped across the whole stream? Well, almost the whole stream, I got a little wet at the end but that doesn't count—"
"Breathe, little spark," Sera said gently, pressing a cup of water into Mika's hands. "The words will still be there after you swallow."
Mika gulped the water, then immediately continued. "—and can I go to the village tomorrow? Pleeeease? I want to see if they have any new books at the library, not that I'm *that* good at reading yet, but I'm getting better, right? And maybe there'll be picture books about sword masters, those are the best—"
"We'll see," Garrett said, which Mika had learned was parent-speak for "probably no, but I don't want to argue about it right now."
She pouted but didn't push. Instead, she turned her attention to the mysterious wrapped bundle that always leaned against the wall near the door,the sealed sword that wouldn't open no matter what she tried.
"Why do we even keep that thing?" she asked, not for the first time. "It doesn't do anything. I tried hitting it with rocks, I tried prying it open, I even asked it nicely! But it just sits there being heavy and annoying."
Sera's hand tightened on her spoon, but her voice remained calm. "Because it's important, Mika. Your father and I were asked to keep it safe."
"But *why*?"
"Because..." Sera glanced at Garrett, who gave a slight shake of his head. "Because sometimes we keep promises even when we don't fully understand them. And one day, maybe you'll understand why it matters."
"That's what you always say," Mika grumbled. "One day, one day. Well, one day I'm gonna throw it in the river and see if it learns to swim."
"Mika!" Sera's sharp tone made Mika jump. Her mother rarely raised her voice. "You will do no such thing. That sword is part of our family's trust. Do you understand?"
Mika blinked, startled by the intensity. "I... okay, Mama. I was just joking..."
Sera's expression softened immediately, guilt flashing across her face. "I know, little spark. I'm sorry. I just... promise me. No matter what happens, you keep that sword close. Can you promise?"
Something in her mother's voice made Mika's stomach twist with an emotion she couldn't name. It felt like when storm clouds gathered over the forest, heavy and electric. "I promise, Mama."
"Good girl." Sera pulled her into a tight hug, holding on just a moment too long.
Over Mika's head, Sera met Garrett's eyes. He saw the fear there, the knowing. They'd both felt it,the subtle changes in the forest over the past few days. The unusual silence of birds. The way the deer had fled deeper into the woods. The sensation of being watched.
Someone was coming. The question was what they wanted.
***
That afternoon, Sera asked Mika to gather herbs from the western edge of the forest,silvermoss and nightshade root, which only grew in the shadowy groves near the old stone ruins.
"Take your time," Sera said, pressing a woven basket into Mika's hands. "And be careful near the ruins. The stones are slippery."
"I'm always careful!" Mika declared, which was such an obvious lie that even she couldn't say it with a straight face. She dissolved into giggles. "Okay, I'm *sometimes* careful. I'll try to be extra careful today!"
She skipped off into the forest, humming tunelessly, the basket swinging from her arm. She loved the forest,knew every tree, every stream, every hidden hollow where rabbits nested. This was her kingdom, her whole world.
She didn't know that her parents watched her go with hearts full of dread.
She didn't know that they'd sent her away to keep her safe.
She didn't know that this would be the last time she'd see them alive.
***
Mika took her time gathering herbs, mostly because she kept getting distracted. First by a family of rabbits (she named the babies Fluffy, Fluffier, and Reginald). Then by an interesting rock that looked kind of like a face if you squinted. Then by a really tall tree that she absolutely had to climb, just to see if she could see her cottage from the top.
She could, barely,a tiny speck of smoke from their chimney rising above the canopy.
"Made it!" she announced to no one, pumping her fist in victory. Then she carefully climbed back down, only falling the last six feet and landing in an ungraceful heap that would have made Garrett sigh and Sera fuss over scraped knees.
By the time she remembered she was supposed to be gathering herbs, the sun was already starting to sink toward the horizon. "Oh no! Mama's gonna be mad!"
She rushed to the shadowy groves where the silvermoss grew, grabbing handfuls and stuffing them into her basket with no regard for being gentle. The nightshade root was harder,you had to dig carefully or it would break,but Mika attacked the earth with a stick, muttering, "Come on, come on, come ON—"
Finally, she had enough. Probably. Maybe? She wasn't entirely sure what "enough" looked like, but her basket was half-full, and that seemed like a reasonable amount.
The forest was darker now, the long shadows of evening creeping between the trees. Mika hurried home, taking her usual shortcuts,jumping across the stream (and getting only a *little* wet this time), ducking under the fallen log, weaving between the twin oaks that marked the edge of their clearing.
She was humming again, already planning her explanation for why the herbs were kind of messy and why she was late (Reginald the rabbit had needed moral support, obviously), when she noticed the silence.
The forest was never silent. There were always birds, always insects, always the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush. But now... nothing.
Mika slowed, her cheerful humming dying in her throat. Something felt wrong. The air was heavy, thick with a smell she didn't recognize,something sharp and metallic and *bad*.
She broke into a run.
The cottage came into view, and Mika's heart stopped.
The door hung crookedly on its hinges. One window was shattered. And through the open doorway, she could see—
"Mama? Papa?" Her voice came out small and frightened, nothing like her usual boisterous shout.
She dropped the basket. Herbs scattered across the ground.
"Mama? Papa?!" Louder now, desperate.
She ran to the door, and the sight that met her eyes would stay with her forever.
The interior of the cottage was destroyed. The table was overturned, Garrett's knife rack smashed, pottery shattered across the floor. Claw marks,no, *sword* marks,gouged the walls. And in the center of it all...
"Papa..."
Garrett lay near the overturned table, his hunting knife still clutched in his hand, his eyes closed. His chest was still. So terribly, horribly still.
"Papa, wake up!" Mika fell to her knees beside him, shaking his shoulder. "Papa, please! I'm sorry I was late, I'm sorry, just wake up! Please wake up!"
But he didn't move. His skin was already growing cold.
A sob tore from Mika's throat,a sound she'd never made before, raw and broken.
"Mama..." She looked around frantically and spotted Sera near the doorway to Mika's small bedroom. Her mother had fallen reaching toward that door, one hand outstretched as if she'd been trying to protect something.
In her other hand, crumpled and stained, was a piece of paper.
"Mama, no, no, no..." Mika crawled to her mother's side, her small hands shaking as she touched Sera's face. Still warm. Had she... had Mika just missed her? If she'd come home sooner—
"I'm sorry," Mika whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry I was late. I'm sorry I was playing. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm *sorry*—"
She pulled the paper from her mother's hand, desperately hoping it would explain, would tell her what to do, would somehow make this better. But the words swam before her eyes, made blurry by tears and her still-developing reading skills. She could only catch fragments:
*"My dearest Mika..."*
*"...loved you..."*
*"...keep the sword safe..."*
*"...academy..."*
*"...stay strong..."*
Mika clutched the letter to her chest and wept. She cried until her throat was raw, until her eyes burned, until she had no more tears left. The cottage grew dark around her, but she didn't move. She couldn't leave them. If she left, that would make it real.
But it was already real.
Finally, as the moon rose and silver light spilled through the broken window, Mika forced herself to stand. Her legs shook. Her whole body felt wrong, like she wasn't quite connected to it anymore.
She looked at her parents one last time. Then she walked into her bedroom,miraculously untouched, as if whoever had done this had never made it past Garrett and Sera's defense,and grabbed the small pack she used for forest adventures.
Into it, she stuffed: a spare dress, her wooden practice sword, the letter she couldn't fully read, and the small carved rabbit Garrett had made her for her sixth birthday.
Then she went to where her father's old sword hung on the wall,the one from his days as a town guard, simple iron with a worn leather grip. The one she'd always called "Old Reliable" because it was steady and dependable, just like Papa.
She could barely lift it. The sword was meant for an adult, far too large for a ten-year-old girl. But she strapped it to her back anyway, adjusting the belt as tight as it would go.
Finally, she looked at the wrapped bundle near the door. The stupid, useless, sealed sword that her mother had made her promise to keep close.
"No matter what happens, you keep that sword close."
"I promise, Mama."
Mika picked up the wrapped sword. It was heavy, awkward, bound with cloth and cords she'd never been able to untie. She had no idea why it mattered. She just knew her mother had died reaching toward it,toward her,and she'd made a promise.
She slung it across her back alongside Old Reliable. The weight of both swords nearly drove her to her knees, but she gritted her teeth and stayed standing.
"I'm sorry," she whispered one more time to the silent cottage. "I love you. I... I don't know what to do. But I'll figure it out. I promise."
Then Mika walked out into the night, leaving the only home she'd ever known behind.
***
The walk to Greyhollow took most of the night. Mika had made the journey before with her parents, but never alone, never in the dark. Every shadow made her jump. Every sound made her hand go to Old Reliable's hilt, even though she could barely draw the heavy blade.
She fell twice, the weight of the swords unbalancing her. The second time, she lay in the dirt for a long moment, exhausted and terrified and so completely alone that she almost couldn't breathe.
*Get up,* she told herself. *Papa would tell you to get up.*
So she did.
By the time she reached the village outskirts, dawn was breaking. Greyhollow was a small place,maybe forty buildings clustered around a central square, with a well, a general store, and the library that Mika had always begged to visit.
The library. There was a boy there, someone kind she'd met once before.
She'd been visiting the village with her parents months ago. The boy had been sitting outside the library, reading a huge book, and when some older boys had tried to steal it, Mika had jumped in without thinking. She'd ended up with a black eye, the older boys had run away, and the boy had been so grateful he'd almost cried.
"You're really strong!" he'd said, eyes wide behind his crooked glasses.
"Nah," Mika had replied, grinning despite her swelling eye. "I just don't like bullies."
They'd talked for an hour before Garrett and Sera found her. The boy,his name was Theo, she remembered,had told her all about sword masters and legendary blades and ancient techniques, and Mika had listened with fascination, even though she only understood about half of it.
Now, she made her way toward the library, hoping desperately that Theo would be there, that someone would help her, that she wouldn't have to be alone anymore.
The village was just waking up. A few shopkeepers were opening their doors, a farmer was leading a cart toward the market. They stared at Mika,this small, dirty girl carrying two swords nearly as big as she was,but no one approached her.
Maybe they could see something in her eyes. Something broken.
The library was at the edge of the square, a two-story building with a faded painted sign: GREYHOLLOW RECORDS & LIBRARY. Mika pushed open the door, making the bell above jingle.
Inside, it smelled like old paper and dust. Shelves towered on every wall, crammed with books and scrolls and loose papers. Behind a large desk sat an elderly man with wild white hair and spectacles that made his eyes look huge.
He looked up at the sound of the bell, and his expression shifted from mild curiosity to shock.
"Good gods, child. Are you,are you hurt?" He started to stand, but Mika shook her head.
"I'm okay. I mean... I'm not hurt. I mean..." Her voice cracked. "Is Theo here?"
"Theo? My son? Yes, he's upstairs, but—"
Mika was already moving, heading for the narrow staircase at the back of the library. She heard the librarian calling after her, but she didn't stop. She climbed the stairs (which was much harder than it should have been with two swords on her back) and emerged into a cluttered living space above the library.
Theo was sitting at a small table by the window, bent over a book that was almost as big as he was. His brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and he was muttering to himself while he took notes in his journal.
"—clearly a variation of the Serpent's Fang technique, but the angle is all wrong for traditional application, unless you account for the wielder's height difference, in which case—"
"Theo."
He jumped so hard his glasses slid down his nose. He spun around, eyes going wide when he saw Mika standing in the doorway.
"M-Mika? What are you—" He took in her appearance: the dirt smudged across her face, the tear tracks through the dirt, the way her clothes were torn and stained, the two massive swords on her back. His voice dropped to a whisper. "What happened?"
And just like that, all of Mika's carefully held composure shattered.
She didn't mean to cry again. She'd thought she was all out of tears. But seeing Theo's concerned face, hearing his gentle question, it all came pouring out.
"They're dead," she choked out. "Mama and Papa are dead and I don't know what to do and Mama left me a letter but I can't read all the words and I'm all alone and—"
She couldn't continue. Sobs shook her small frame.
Theo stood frozen for a moment, clearly overwhelmed and having no idea how to handle a crying girl. Then, moving awkwardly, he approached and patted her shoulder. It was the most tentative, uncertain comfort imaginable.
"It's... it's okay. I mean, it's not okay, obviously it's not okay, that's a terrible thing to say, I'm sorry—"
"Theo," his father's voice came from the stairs. The old librarian appeared, his expression grave. "Let's get her some water and something to eat. Then we'll talk."
An hour later, Mika sat at Theo's table, wrapped in a blanket, holding a mug of warm tea she hadn't touched. Theo's father,whose name was Aldric,had listened to her halting, tearful explanation of what she'd found at the cottage.
"Bandits, most likely," Aldric said grimly. "There have been rumors of dangerous men traveling through the forest, searching for something. I'm so sorry, child. Garrett and Sera were good people. I know they loved you very much."
Mika nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.
"The letter," Aldric said gently. "May I read it? Perhaps I can help you understand what your mother wanted you to know."
With shaking hands, Mika pulled out the crumpled, stained paper and handed it to him.
Aldric unfolded it carefully, his expression growing more troubled as he read. When he finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
"Your mother's handwriting," he said finally. "She wrote this in haste, I think. Knowing danger was coming." He looked at Mika kindly. "She says... she says that she and your father loved you more than anything. That you were their greatest joy."
Mika's eyes filled with fresh tears.
"She asks you to keep the sword safe,the wrapped one, I assume? She says it's important, though she doesn't say why. And she asks you to be strong. To find the Sword Masters Academy in the capital. She says..." He paused, reading again. "She says they'll help you there. That you'll be safe."
"The academy?" Mika's voice was small. "That place Theo was telling me about? With all the sword masters?"
"The very same," Aldric confirmed. "It's a long journey from here,five days by caravan to the capital. But they train students from all over, teaching them to become master swordsmen. If your mother thought you'd be safe there..." He trailed off thoughtfully.
"But I'm only ten," Mika protested. "And I'm not... I mean, Papa was teaching me, but I'm not good or anything."
Theo had been quiet, thinking hard. Now he spoke up, his voice gaining confidence as he focused on something concrete. "The academy takes students as young as nine! And last time we talked, you told me your dad was teaching you. That's more than most people have when they start!"
"But—"
"And you fight really well! I saw you!" Theo's enthusiasm was building. "When those bullies tried to take my book, you moved so fast, and you didn't even have a weapon, but you still—" He caught himself, blushing. "I mean, you're naturally talented. The academy would be lucky to have you."
"Theo's right," Aldric said. "The academy holds entrance trials twice a year. The next one is in three weeks. If you traveled with a merchant caravan for safety..." He studied her carefully. "It would give you shelter, training, a purpose. And perhaps... perhaps answers about why your parents thought that sword was so important."
Mika looked at the wrapped sword propped against the wall. She still didn't understand why it mattered. It was just a stupid sealed sword that wouldn't open. But Mama had wanted her to keep it safe. Mama had wanted her to go to the academy.
And what else could she do? Go back to an empty cottage in the forest? Stay here in a village where she knew no one except Theo and his father?
"Okay," she said quietly.
"Okay?" Theo's face lit up. "You'll do it? You'll try for the academy?"
"I don't have anywhere else to go," Mika admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "And Mama wanted me to. So... okay. I'll try."
It wasn't brave or determined or any of the things a hero should probably be. But it was honest.
Theo practically vibrated with excitement. "This is incredible! I can help you prepare,I can teach you about the entrance trials, and the different sword styles they test, and the history of the academy, and—"
"Theo," his father interrupted gently. "Perhaps give the poor girl a moment to breathe?"
"Right. Sorry." But Theo was grinning now, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "But seriously, Mika, this is going to be amazing. You'll see. You're going to be incredible!"
Mika managed a small, tired smile. She didn't feel incredible. She felt hollow and lost and scared. But Theo's confidence was infectious, and for the first time since she'd found her parents' bodies, she felt a tiny spark of something that might, eventually, become hope.
"Will you..." She hesitated. "Will you still be here? When I come back to visit, I mean. After I... after I go to the academy."
"Of course!" Theo said immediately. "I'll write to you! We can be... I mean, if you want... we could be friends?"
He said it uncertainly, like he wasn't quite sure how friendship worked. Mika realized, suddenly, that Theo was probably as lonely as she was,isolated by his intelligence, his interests, his gentle nature in a rough village.
"Yeah," she said, more firmly this time. "Friends. My first real friend."
Theo's smile was brighter than the sunrise.
Over the next three weeks, Mika stayed in the small room above the library. Aldric had contacts with a merchant caravan that would be passing through on their way to the capital, where the academy was located. They'd agreed to take Mika along for a small fee,which Aldric paid, waving away her protests.
"Consider it an investment in the future," he'd said with a gentle smile.
During those weeks, Theo threw himself into preparing her. Every morning, they'd go to the village practice yard (little more than a cleared patch of dirt behind the blacksmith's shop), and Theo would read aloud from his books while Mika practiced the forms Garrett had taught her.
"No, see, your back foot needs to be angled more,wait, let me check the diagram,yes, twenty degrees outward! And when you strike, the power should come from your core, not just your arms, see here it says—"
"Theo," Mika panted, lowering Old Reliable (which was still absurdly heavy for her). "Can you maybe tell me less and let me do more?"
"But the theory is important! If you don't understand the principles behind the movements—"
"I learn better by moving!" Mika insisted. "Just... just show me once, then let me try it a bunch of times, okay?"
So Theo would demonstrate,awkwardly, with a practice sword far too big for him, clearly having learned everything from books rather than experience,and Mika would copy him, her body instinctively correcting what her mind didn't fully understand.
"How do you do that?" Theo asked in wonder after she'd perfectly executed a complex defensive sequence on her third try. "It took me two months to learn that form!"
"I dunno." Mika shrugged, spinning the sword in a way that made Theo wince. "I just... feel it? Like, my body knows what comes next."
"That's incredible," Theo breathed, scribbling notes in his journal. "Natural kinesthetic learning combined with what must be muscle memory from all your training with your father—"
"Theo. You're doing the thing again."
"What thing?"
"The thing where you use words I don't know."
"Oh. Sorry." But he was grinning. "I'm just saying you're really, really good at this. Even without formal training."
Mika felt herself smile,a real smile, not the forced ones she'd been wearing like a mask. "Thanks."
In the afternoons, Theo would read to her from his books about the academy. He'd describe the different training halls, the ranking system, the famous masters who taught there. Mika would listen while sharpening Old Reliable (Theo had taught her how), occasionally interrupting with questions.
"So they put you in teams?"
"Yes! Usually four or five students with complementary skills, assigned to train together under a master instructor."
"That sounds fun! Like having brothers and sisters, but for fighting!"
Theo smiled at her enthusiasm. "Exactly. Though not all teams get along at first. There's usually a lot of rivalry and competition."
"I love competition!" Mika declared. "I'm gonna be the best on my team! No, the best in the whole academy! No, the best in the whole world!"
"That's... ambitious."
"Papa always said I should dream big!" Then her face fell as she remembered. The grief still came in waves, crashing over her at unexpected moments. Some days she could almost forget what had happened, and then she'd remember, and the weight of it would crush her all over again.
Theo, who was getting better at reading her moods, quickly redirected. "Hey, want to hear about the legendary Sword Master Kaida? She could supposedly cut through solid stone with a wooden blade!"
And Mika would let herself be distracted, filing away her grief for later, for the quiet moments alone in her small borrowed room when she'd cry into her pillow and clutch her father's carved rabbit.
The evenings were quieter. Aldric would make dinner, and the three of them would eat together. Sometimes Aldric would tell stories about the old days, about famous sword masters and legendary battles. Other times, Mika would share memories of her parents,the good ones, the happy ones, the ones that made her smile even through the ache.
"Papa once tried to teach me to fish, but I kept scaring them away by yelling 'COME HERE, FISH!' at the water." She laughed softly. "He said I had the patience of a squirrel on fire."
Aldric chuckled. "Garrett always did have a way with words."
"You knew him?" Mika asked, surprised.
"A little. He came to the library sometimes, years ago, to read. Always histories and military tactics. I suspect he was more than just a simple woodsman, once upon a time." Aldric's eyes grew distant. "Good man. And Sera was a fine woman. They loved you very much."
"I know," Mika whispered.
At night, before bed, Theo would help her practice reading using his simpler books.
Mika's reading had always been shaky,her parents had taught her the basics, but living in the forest meant limited access to books. Now, with Theo's patient instruction, she was improving rapidly.
"See? You're getting so much better!" Theo encouraged as she successfully sounded out a particularly difficult word. "By the time you get to the academy, you'll be able to read their training manuals no problem!"
"Will you write to me?" Mika asked suddenly. "Like you said? I've never gotten a letter before."
"Of course! I'll write every week! I'll tell you about new books I've read, and you can tell me about your training, and—" He paused, suddenly shy. "I've never had anyone to write to before."
"Then we're both learning new things," Mika said, and impulsively pulled him into a hug.
Theo stiffened in surprise,physical affection was clearly not something he was used to,but then tentatively hugged her back.
"Thank you," Mika whispered. "For being my friend. For helping me. For... for making this less awful."
"That's what friends do," Theo said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "Right?"
"Yeah," Mika agreed. "That's what friends do."
***
The morning of her departure came too quickly. The merchant caravan arrived at dawn,five wagons pulled by sturdy horses, loaded with goods bound for the capital. The caravan master, a weathered woman named Torva with arms like tree trunks, looked Mika up and down skeptically.
"This is the girl? She's tiny."
"She's stronger than she looks," Aldric assured her.
"She'd better be. I'm not running a charity. She pulls her weight or she walks." But Torva's gruff tone was undercut by the way she helped Mika secure her swords in the back of the supply wagon. "These are good blades. Well-maintained. You know how to use them?"
"I'm learning," Mika said.
"Hmph. Better learn fast. Roads aren't safe these days."
Theo had come to see her off, his arms full of supplies,a new pack, a waterskin, dried food for the journey, and three books ("For when you have free time! Though maybe start with the thin one, the thick ones are pretty advanced—").
"Theo, I can't carry all this," Mika protested, but she was smiling.
"Then leave some books behind and take them when you visit!" Theo said quickly. "Because you will visit, right? You promised!"
"I promised," Mika confirmed. She took the pack and the waterskin, then selected the thinnest book—*Basic Sword Forms Illustrated*. "I'll read this one on the road. And I'll write to you as soon as I get there!"
"Don't forget to tell me everything about the entrance trials! Every detail! I want to know—"
"Theo," Aldric interrupted gently. "Let her go, son. She has a long journey ahead."
Theo's enthusiasm dimmed. "Right. Sorry. I just..." He pushed his glasses up nervously. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you too," Mika said, and she meant it. In three short weeks, Theo had become something precious,a lifeline, a reminder that she wasn't completely alone in the world.
She hugged him again, quick and fierce. Then she turned to Aldric and hugged him too. "Thank you. For everything. I don't know what I would've done without you."
"Survived," Aldric said simply. "You're stronger than you know, child. I can see why your parents were so proud of you." He pressed something into her hand,a small leather pouch. "For emergencies. And this—" A letter, sealed with wax. "If you need help at the academy, give this to Master Venn. He's an old friend, and he'll look after you."
Mika tucked both items carefully into her pack. "I'll make you proud. Both of you."
"You already have," Aldric said warmly.
"Girl! We're leaving!" Torva called from the front wagon.
Mika climbed into the supply wagon, finding a spot between crates of cloth and barrels of grain. She looked back at Theo and Aldric, standing together in the early morning light, waving.
She waved back, watching them grow smaller as the caravan rolled forward. Watched until they were just tiny specks. Watched until Greyhollow itself disappeared behind the trees.
Then she turned to face forward, toward the road ahead, toward the capital and the academy and whatever future waited for her there.
In her pack: a book about swords, a letter of introduction, coins for emergencies, and a carved wooden rabbit.
On her back: her father's sword and a mysterious wrapped blade that wouldn't open.
In her heart: grief and determination tangled together, and the tiniest spark of hope.
The girl who had been only Mika,daughter of the forest, student of an unconventional father,was gone. In her place was someone new, someone still being formed, still figuring out who she would become.
But one thing was certain: she was heading toward her future.
And she wasn't going to face it alone.
***
The five-day journey to the capital was both longer and shorter than Mika expected.
Longer because sitting in a wagon was *boring*. She was used to running through forests, climbing trees, constantly moving. Being stuck with crates and barrels made her restless and twitchy.
"Girl, stop fidgeting!" Torva barked on the second day. "You're making the horses nervous!"
"Sorry! I just,I need to move! Can I walk alongside the wagon? Please?"
Torva grumbled but agreed, and Mika spent much of the journey on foot, sometimes jogging to keep up with the horses, sometimes practicing footwork patterns Theo had taught her, sometimes just enjoying the feeling of movement.
The other caravan members were a mix of merchants and guards. Most ignored her, but a few were friendly. There was Petyr, a young guard who was barely older than fifteen, who let her look at his sword and showed her how to properly check a blade for damage. There was Old Mara, a merchant who sold fabrics, who shared her lunch and told rambling stories about her seven grandchildren. And there was Kess, a quiet woman who drove one of the wagons and who, Mika eventually realized, was watching her with unusual intensity.
On the third night, Kess approached where Mika sat by the campfire, trying to read her book by firelight.
"Those swords you carry," Kess said without preamble. "That's a heavy load for a girl your size."
Mika's hand instinctively went to Old Reliable's hilt. "My papa's sword. And the other one... it's important. I promised to keep it safe."
Kess studied her for a long moment. "Important how?"
"I don't know," Mika admitted. "It won't even open. But my mama said to keep it close, so I do."
"A sealed sword." Kess's expression was unreadable. "Word of advice, girl. There are dangerous people on the roads these days. People searching for things. You might want to keep your head down and your business to yourself."
"Are *you* one of those dangerous people?" Mika asked, her voice harder than she intended.
"If I were, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Kess's expression softened slightly. "But others won't give you warnings. Watch yourself at the academy. Trust slowly."
Then she walked away, leaving Mika unsettled and confused.
That night, Mika wrapped the sealed sword more carefully, adding extra cloth to disguise its shape. She didn't know who to trust, didn't know who might want to hurt her or take what she carried.
She fell asleep with one hand on Old Reliable's hilt, just like Papa had taught her.
But the remaining days passed without incident. They traveled through farmland and small villages, across rolling hills and through dense woods. Mika saw more of the world in those five days than she had in her entire life, and despite everything, she felt a thrill of excitement.
*I'm really doing this. I'm really going to the academy.*
On the morning of the fifth day, Petyr called out: "There! Look!"
Mika scrambled to the front of the wagon, squinting ahead. In the distance, rising above the landscape, was a massive city. Stone walls encircled it, with towers reaching toward the sky. Even from miles away, she could see the bustle of activity,people and carts and life.
"The capital," Torva announced. "And there—" She pointed to a structure on a hill overlooking the city. "—that's your academy."
Mika's breath caught. The Sword Masters Academy was magnificent. A sprawling complex of buildings surrounded by training grounds, with banners flying from every tower. She could make out tiny figures moving in the practice yards, could almost hear the clash of training blades even from this distance.
"Wow," she whispered.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Petyr grinned. "I tried to get in once. Didn't make it past the first trial. You nervous?"
"Terrified," Mika admitted.
"Good. Means you're taking it seriously." He patted her shoulder. "You'll do fine, kid. You've got that look about you."
"What look?"
"The look of someone who doesn't know how to quit."
The caravan reached the city gates by midday. The streets were overwhelming,so many people, so much noise, smells of food and horses and humanity all mixed together. Mika had never seen so many buildings, so many faces. She pressed close to the wagon, feeling small and lost.
Torva stopped at a merchant's square and helped Mika down. "This is where we part ways, girl. The academy is up that hill—" She pointed. "—follow the main road, can't miss it. Trials start tomorrow at dawn. Don't be late."
"Thank you," Mika said. "For letting me travel with you."
"You pulled your weight. That's all I ask." But Torva's weathered face cracked into something almost like a smile. "Good luck, kid. Make your parents proud."
Mika's throat tightened at the mention of her parents, but she nodded. "I will."
And then the caravan was moving on, and Mika was alone in a city of thousands.
She adjusted the straps on her swords, took a deep breath, and started walking uphill.
The academy gates were even more impressive up close,iron wrought into the shapes of crossed swords, with the academy motto etched above: *"Through Steel, We Find Truth."*
A guard stood at the gate, looking bored. He glanced at Mika,dirty from travel, too small for her swords, obviously out of place,and sighed.
"Entrance trials?" he asked in a tone that suggested he'd asked this question a hundred times today.
"Yes sir!"
"Name?"
"Mika!" She paused. "Just Mika."
The guard consulted a list. "Don't see a Mika registered."
Her heart sank. "What? But I,I came all this way—"
"Relax, kid. Walk-ins are allowed. You'll register tomorrow morning with the other hopefuls. But right now, trials don't start until dawn, and I can't let you in early. Come back at sunrise." He softened slightly at her crestfallen expression. "There's a boarding house down the street,the Laughing Crow. Tell them you're here for trials. They'll give you a cheap room."
Mika nodded, fighting back disappointment. She'd been so focused on getting here that she hadn't thought about what to do once she arrived.
She found the Laughing Crow easily enough,a three-story building with a painted sign showing a crow that did indeed appear to be laughing. Inside, the common room was full of other young people, all around her age or slightly older, all wearing determined expressions and carrying weapons.
*Other hopefuls,* Mika realized. *Other kids trying to get into the academy.*
She approached the innkeeper, a jovial man with an impressive mustache. "Um, excuse me? The guard said you have rooms for trial participants?"
"That we do! Two coppers a night, breakfast included. How many nights?"
Mika had no idea. "Just... one? For now?"
She paid from Aldric's emergency pouch and received a key to a small room on the third floor. It was barely big enough for a bed and a washbasin, but it was clean and safe and *hers*.
Mika collapsed onto the bed, every muscle aching from five days of travel. She should probably eat something. Should definitely clean up,she was filthy. Should practice her forms one more time.
Instead, she pulled out the wooden rabbit and held it close, and let herself cry quietly for everything she'd lost and everything she was terrified to face tomorrow.
After a while, she wiped her eyes and sat up. From her pack, she pulled out the book Theo had given her and her mother's letter. She read them both slowly, carefully, determined to understand.
The book was easier now,Theo's teaching had helped. She absorbed information about stances and grips and the proper angle for defensive blocks.
Her mother's letter was harder, both because some words were still difficult and because they hurt to read. But she understood more now than she had that terrible night:
*"My dearest Mika,if you're reading this, something has happened to us. Know that your father and I loved you more than life itself. You were our greatest joy, our brightest light. The sword we kept safe,keep it with you always. It's important in ways we cannot fully explain. Find the Sword Masters Academy in the capital. You'll be safe there. Learn. Grow strong. And always remember: you are braver than you know, stronger than you seem. Stay safe, little spark. Stay strong. We love you forever. —Mama"*
"I'm trying, Mama," Mika whispered to the empty room. "I'm here. I made it. And tomorrow... tomorrow I'm going to make you proud."
She folded the letter carefully and tucked it away, then lay down and closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, everything would change.
Tomorrow, she would take the first real step toward becoming a sword master.
Tomorrow, her new life would truly begin.
But tonight, she was just a scared ten-year-old girl, far from home, carrying swords she barely knew how to use and a sealed blade whose purpose she didn't understand.
Tonight, that was enough.
***
Dawn came too quickly.
Mika woke to sounds of movement throughout the inn,dozens of hopefuls preparing for trials. She washed her face, braided her hair back as neatly as she could manage, and put on her cleanest clothes (which weren't very clean).
In the common room, she grabbed a piece of bread and an apple from the breakfast spread, eating quickly while watching the other candidates. They all looked so confident, so prepared. Many wore matching training clothes, clearly from established sword schools. Their weapons gleamed, professionally maintained.
Mika looked down at Old Reliable, with its worn grip and slightly notched blade. At the lumpy, awkwardly wrapped bundle of the sealed sword.
*Papa's sword was good enough for him,* she told herself firmly. *It'll be good enough for me.*
The walk back to the academy felt like both a funeral march and a celebration. Around her, other candidates talked nervously, boasting about their training or worrying about the trials. Mika stayed quiet, focusing on her breathing the way Garrett had taught her.
*In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Steady. Strong.*
The academy gates were open now, and a stern-looking woman in instructor's robes stood checking registrations. When Mika approached, the woman looked her up and down with barely concealed skepticism.
"Name?"
"Mika."
"Family name?"
"Just... Mika."
The woman's eyebrow raised. "Age?"
"Ten."
"Sponsorship or recommendation?"
"I have a letter!" Mika quickly pulled out Aldric's sealed letter. "It's for Master Venn?"
The woman broke the seal, read quickly, and her expression shifted from skeptical to surprised to carefully neutral. "I see. Master Venn will want to speak with you. But first, you'll complete the trials like everyone else." She made a note. "Report to Training Ground Three. First trial begins in one hour."
"What's the first trial?" Mika asked.
"You'll find out when you get there. Next!"
Mika was ushered through the gates into the academy proper. Up close, it was even more overwhelming,training grounds everywhere, students in matching uniforms practicing in perfect formation, the sound of steel on steel ringing through the air.
She followed the signs to Training Ground Three, where about thirty other hopefuls were already gathering. Most were older than her,twelve, thirteen, even a few who looked fourteen. They all seemed to know each other, clustered in groups, talking in low voices.
Mika stood alone, feeling very small.
She missed Theo. Missed having someone to talk to, someone who understood. She pulled out the wooden rabbit from her pocket, running her thumb over the worn carving Papa had made.
*You can do this,* she told herself. *Mama and Papa believed in you. Theo believes in you. Now you just have to believe in yourself.*
She tucked the rabbit away and straightened her shoulders, trying to look braver than she felt.
A loud voice rang across the training ground. "ATTENTION, ALL CANDIDATES!"
The chatter died instantly. A tall man with a scarred face and arms like tree trunks stepped into the center of the field. His instructor's robes were marked with symbols Mika didn't recognize, but his presence commanded immediate respect.
"I am Master Kain, head of first-year instruction. You are here because you believe you have what it takes to become sword masters. Most of you are wrong."
A nervous murmur rippled through the crowd.
"We will conduct three trials today. Only those who pass all three will be admitted to the academy. The first trial begins now." He gestured to the practice swords stacked nearby. "Those of you carrying real weapons,leave them here. You'll use our training blades."
Mika reluctantly unslung Old Reliable and the wrapped sword, laying them carefully against the fence. Several other candidates glanced at the wrapped blade with curiosity, but no one said anything.
"First trial: Fundamentals!" Master Kain announced. "You will demonstrate basic sword forms. Those with inadequate foundation will be eliminated immediately. Form lines of five!"
Mika scrambled to join a line, ending up near the back. She could feel her heart hammering. This was it. This was real.
*I can do this,* she told herself. *Papa taught me. I know this stuff.*
But as she watched the first candidates perform their forms, her confidence wavered. They were *good*. Precise, controlled, perfect in their execution. These were kids who'd trained at proper schools their whole lives.
Mika had learned from her father in a forest clearing, making up silly names for techniques, treating it like a game.
The line moved forward. Candidates performed their forms. Some were praised. Others were eliminated on the spot, their dreams ending before they'd even truly begun.
"Next five!" Master Kain called.
Mika stepped forward, practice sword in hand.
She was completely alone.
But somehow, she was going to make this work.
***
Master Kain walked down the line, his sharp eyes assessing each candidate. When he reached Mika, his gaze lingered on her small frame, her worn clothes, her nervous grip on the practice sword.
"You're young," he observed. "And small. Who trained you?"
"My papa, sir," Mika said, her voice stronger than she felt.
"And where is your papa now?"
Mika's throat tightened. "He's... he's gone, sir."
Something flickered in Master Kain's eyes,maybe sympathy, maybe respect. "Then show me what he taught you. First form. Begin!"
Mika took her stance. For a moment, her mind went blank with panic. Then she heard Papa's voice in her memory: *Breathe, squirt. Feel it. Your body knows.*
She began the sequence.
At first, she was stiff, nervous, trying too hard to be perfect like the other candidates. But then something clicked. Her body remembered the clearing behind the cottage, the morning sun, Papa's patient corrections. She stopped thinking and started *moving*.
Her form wasn't perfect. Her feet weren't positioned exactly right. But there was something else,a fluidity, a natural instinct that made the movements flow together like a dance.
She finished the sequence and froze, waiting for judgment.
Master Kain was silent for a long moment. "Unorthodox," he finally said. "Your fundamentals are shaky. Your form is inconsistent."
Mika's heart sank.
"But you have something most of these polished students lack,instinct. Raw talent." He moved on to the next candidate. "You pass. Next!"
Mika nearly collapsed with relief.
The trials continued. The second test was endurance,holding a practice sword at arm's length for as long as possible. Mika's arms screamed with pain, but she gritted her teeth and held on, outlasting several candidates twice her size through sheer stubborn determination.
The third trial was the hardest: sparring matches.
"You will face an opponent!" Master Kain announced. "Show us not just technique, but spirit. Hesitation means elimination!"
Mika was paired against a girl two years older and half a foot taller. The girl smiled condescendingly. "Try not to cry when you lose, little one."
Something hot flared in Mika's chest. She might be small. She might be scared. But she was Garrett's daughter, and he'd taught her to never back down.
"Begin!"
The older girl attacked with textbook precision,exactly the kind of formal technique Mika had seen all day. Predictable. Perfect.
Boring.
Mika didn't block the way she was supposed to. Instead, she ducked under the strike, spun (because spinning was cool and it worked), and tapped the girl's side with her practice blade before dancing backward.
"Point to the small one!" an instructor called.
The older girl's face flushed with anger. She attacked again, faster this time, abandoning her perfect form for aggression.
Perfect.
Mika was good at dealing with wild attacks. She'd spent years fighting imaginary monsters in the forest, dodging tree branches, leaping over streams. Her movements were unorthodox, unpredictable, infuriating to fight against.
She won three points to one.
The older girl stalked off the field, humiliated. Mika just grinned, adrenaline singing through her veins.
*I did it! Papa, I did it!*
***
By the time the trials ended, the sun was setting. Of the thirty candidates who'd started, only twelve remained. Mika was one of them, exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure.
Master Kain addressed the survivors. "Congratulations. You have earned your place at this academy. Report here tomorrow at dawn to receive your uniforms and team assignments. Dismissed!"
The other candidates immediately clustered together, celebrating, making friends. Mika stood apart, suddenly feeling the weight of her loneliness again.
She collected Old Reliable and the wrapped sword, slinging them onto her back with practiced ease. As she headed toward the gates, a voice stopped her.
"Mika."
She turned to find a man approaching,elderly, with kind eyes and a neat white beard. His instructor's robes were marked with more symbols than anyone else's.
"I'm Master Venn," he said. "I received Aldric's letter about you."
"Oh!" Mika straightened. "He said you could help me, sir."
"Walk with me."
They strolled through the academy grounds as evening settled in. Master Venn was quiet for a moment, then said, "Aldric told me about your parents. I'm very sorry for your loss."
Mika nodded, not trusting her voice.
"He also mentioned you carry something unusual. A sealed sword." Master Venn glanced at the wrapped bundle on her back. "May I ask how your parents came by it?"
"I don't know, sir," Mika admitted. "They just always had it. Said it was important, but they never told me why. Do you know what it is?"
Master Venn's expression was carefully neutral. "No. But if it was important enough for your parents to protect, then it's important enough for you to keep safe. Trust no one with its secrets,not even here at the academy. Do you understand?"
Mika felt a chill run down her spine. "Yes, sir."
"Good." His tone lightened. "You performed well today. Your father taught you properly,unorthodox methods, perhaps, but effective. You'll do well here."
"Thank you, sir."
"Now, you should return to your lodgings and rest. Tomorrow your real training begins." He paused. "And Mika? If you ever need help, or if anyone troubles you about that sword,come find me immediately."
"I will, sir."
As Mika walked back through the city streets toward the Laughing Crow, she felt a mixture of emotions. Pride at passing the trials. Grief that her parents couldn't see it. Excitement for tomorrow.
And underneath it all, a new thread of worry. Master Venn's warning about the sword had been subtle but clear: she was carrying something dangerous, something people might want badly enough to hurt her for.
She thought of the bandits who'd killed her parents. Had they been searching for the sword?
*Keep it safe,* Mama had written. *Keep it with you always.*
Mika tightened her grip on the wrapped bundle and kept walking.
Whatever secrets the sword held, whatever dangers lay ahead,she'd face them.
Just like Papa taught her.
***
The next morning, Mika woke early, too excited to sleep. She dressed quickly, ate a hurried breakfast, and practically ran to the academy gates.
Other new students were gathering, all looking equally nervous and eager. Mika recognized several faces from yesterday's trials. Most still ignored her, but a few nodded in acknowledgment.
Master Kain appeared with a stack of folded fabric. "New students! Come receive your uniforms. Then you'll be assigned to your teams."
Mika received her uniform,a simple but well-made set of training clothes in the academy's colors: deep blue with silver trim. It fit surprisingly well, though the pants were a bit long. She rolled them up and tried not to feel self-conscious about how young she looked compared to everyone else.
"Team assignments!" Master Kain called. "Listen for your names!"
He began reading from a list. Students were divided into groups of four or five, each team given a name and assigned to a training master.
"Team Owl!" Master Kain announced. "Members: Mika—"
Mika's head snapped up.
"—Violet Ashwood, Kael Brennan, Brock Ironforge, and..." He paused, consulting his list with a frown. "We're one member short. We'll assign the fifth member when—"
"Wait! WAIT!"
Everyone turned toward the commotion at the gates.
A small figure was sprinting toward them, robes flapping, glasses bouncing on his nose, looking like he'd run all the way from the city. He skidded to a stop in front of Master Kain, gasping for breath.
"I'm,I'm here for,for the trials—"
"The trials were yesterday," Master Kain said coldly.
"I *know*! I'm *sorry*! The caravan was delayed and we only arrived last night and I ran here as fast as I could and—" The boy bent over, hands on his knees, wheezing. "Please. Please let me try. I came so far—"
Master Kain looked unmoved. "Rules are rules, boy. You missed—"
"Let him try."
Master Venn had appeared, seemingly from nowhere. He looked at the exhausted boy with something like amusement. "One trial. If he passes, he joins as the fifth member of Team Owl. If he fails, he goes home."
Master Kain scowled but nodded. "Fine. Boy,what's your name?"
"Theo," the boy gasped. "Theo of Greyhollow."
Mika's heart nearly stopped.
"THEO?!" She pushed through the crowd. "THEO!"
Theo looked up, his face lighting up with recognition and relief. "Mika! You made it! You're here!"
"You came! You actually came!" Mika wanted to hug him but held back,they were in front of everyone, and Theo looked like he might collapse any second.
"Had to," Theo wheezed, pushing his glasses up. "Couldn't let you have all the fun. Plus, Father said I should... should stop reading about adventures and actually *have* one..."
"Touching," Master Kain interrupted. "But you're wasting time. If you want to join this academy, prove you deserve it. Grab a practice sword."
Theo straightened, still breathing hard. He walked to the weapon rack and selected a blade with shaking hands.
Mika watched, anxiety knotting her stomach. Theo wasn't a fighter. He'd barely held a sword before their practice sessions. Could he really pass even one trial?
"Demonstrate the first form!" Master Kain commanded.
Theo took his stance. His grip was wrong, his posture stiff. But he began the sequence,slow, methodical, clearly drawing from memory rather than instinct.
It was terrible.
His movements were mechanical, his transitions awkward. He nearly dropped the sword twice. Several students snickered.
But he didn't stop. Even when it was clear he was struggling, even when his face burned with embarrassment, Theo completed the entire form.
He finished and stood there, waiting for judgment, looking like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
Master Kain stared at him for a long moment. "That was possibly the worst demonstration of the first form I have ever witnessed."
Theo's shoulders slumped.
"However." Master Kain's voice softened,barely, but it did. "You completed it. Every movement, in the correct order, despite obvious physical limitations and exhaustion. That shows dedication. Discipline." He glanced at Master Venn, who nodded slightly. "You pass. Welcome to the academy, Theo of Greyhollow. You are the fifth member of Team Owl."
Theo's eyes went wide behind his glasses. "I... I passed? I actually—"
"Don't make me regret it. Report to Team Owl. Dismissed!"
Mika immediately grabbed Theo's arm, practically dragging him toward where three other students were gathered,her new teammates.
"You made it!" she whispered excitedly. "I can't believe you made it!"
"Neither can I," Theo admitted, looking dazed. "I was so scared I was going to throw up. Actually, I might still throw up—"
"Don't throw up on the first day!"
"I'll try not to."
They reached Team Owl. Three other students turned to look at them,two boys and one girl, all looking skeptical about their new teammates.
This was it. Team Owl. Her new family, whether they liked it or not.
Mika grinned and stuck out her hand. "Hi! I'm Mika! This is Theo! We're gonna be the best team ever!"
The girl with purple ribbons in her hair looked at Mika's enthusiastic expression and wrinkled her nose in disdain.
"Somehow," she said coldly, "I doubt that."
And thus began Mika's adventure at the Sword Masters Academy.