Week eight brought something unexpected.
A visitor.
I was in the library, reading about fire elemental theory—still slow, still sounding out words, but getting faster—when I heard horses outside. Multiple. Unfamiliar.
Hooves on packed earth. Men's voices. The jingle of tack and weapons.
I froze.
Visitors never came here. Elara's cottage was deliberately remote. Deliberately hidden. In eight weeks, I'd seen exactly three people: Elara, Garret once to check on me, and the vault keeper in Millbrook.
No one else.
I set down the book. Crept to the library door. Pressed my ear against the wood.
Elara's voice, sharp through the main door: "You shouldn't be here."
A man's voice, smooth and unhurried: "I go where I'm needed. You know that."
My heart hammered.
I slipped out of the library, across the main room, to the window beside the fireplace. Pressed against the wall. Looked through the glass's edge.
Three riders. Armed. Their horses were good—better than Garret's. Well-fed. Well-groomed. The kind of horses that cost more than most people earned in a year.
The man in front was tall. Dark hair. Easy smile that didn't reach his eyes. Wore leather armor that looked decorative but probably wasn't. A sword at his hip. A symbol on his chest I didn't recognize.
Behind him, two others. Harder faces. Professional. Guards or soldiers.
Elara stood in front of them, arms crossed, blocking the door. She looked small against the horses. Old against their youth.
She also looked completely unafraid.
"The boy," the man said. "I'm here for the boy."
My blood went cold.
For me? Why? Who sent them? The people who killed my parents? Someone from my old life? The—
"He's training." Elara's voice was flat. "He's not available."
"The academy sent me."
Academy.
Valdris Academy.
The word stopped my spiral cold.
Elara was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Why?"
The man dismounted. Easy movement. Confident. He walked toward Elara, stopped a few feet away, spread his hands—not threatening, just... open.
"His name came up. During testing reviews. Someone registered a sparkstone reading from Millbrook. Faint, but unusual. Then there were reports from a caravan job—corrupted kills, magic use, young age." He tilted his head. "You know how the academy feels about undiscovered talent."
"I know how they feel about taking children from their teachers."
"Teachers." He smiled. "Is that what you are now? I remember when you refused every student for decades."
"Times change."
"Apparently." He looked past her, toward the cottage. Toward the window where I was hiding. "He's watching, isn't he? Clever boy. Smart to stay inside."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Situation: Academy Representative Detected
Name: Corvin Ashford (confirmed)
Title: Academy Scout / Talent Seeker
Affiliation: Valdris Academy (Admissions Division)
Reputation: Fair but ruthless. Finds talent. Takes talent. Doesn't ask permission.
Your Status: Under observation
Elara's Position: Protective, but limited
[NEW QUEST: THE ACADEMY'S INTEREST]
· Objective: Discover why the academy wants you.
· Reward: Variable
· Warning: This changes everything.
Elara's Signal: Unknown. Wait for her lead.
I stayed pressed against the wall. Breathing shallow. Heart pounding.
Wait. Trust her. Don't move.
---
Outside, the conversation continued.
"Let me see him," Corvin said. "Five minutes. If he's not what I'm looking for, I leave. If he is..." He shrugged. "Then we talk about options."
"He's seven."
"Some of our best started at seven. Younger."
"He's untrained."
"The reports say otherwise. Corrupted kills. Magic use. That's not untrained. That's raw." Corvin's voice softened. "Elara. I know you don't trust the academy. I know you have reasons. But this boy—if he's real, if he's actually showing this much potential this young—he needs more than one old mage in a remote cottage. He needs resources. Connections. Protection."
"He has my protection."
"Your protection against what? Bandits? Wolves?" Corvin stepped closer. "If he's as gifted as the signs suggest, the threats coming for him won't be bandits. They'll be people who want to use him. Control him. Kill him before anyone else can use him. You know I'm right."
Silence.
I held my breath.
Then Elara's voice, quieter: "Wait here."
Footsteps toward the cottage.
I moved fast—away from the window, back toward the library, pretending I'd never left.
The door opened. Elara entered. Closed it behind her.
Her eyes found me immediately.
"You heard."
Not a question.
"Yes."
"Good. Saves time." She crossed to me. Knelt so we were eye level. Rare. She never knelt. "That man is Corvin Ashford. Academy scout. He finds gifted children and recruits them. He's good at his job."
"You trust him?"
"No. But he's not lying about the threats." She studied me. "If you stay here, you train with me. You get strong. You get safe. But you stay small. Unknown. If threats come, you face them alone or with me."
"And if I go?"
"If you go, you enter a world of politics. Noble children who will despise you. Teachers who will test you. Opportunities and dangers you can't imagine." She paused. "But you also get resources. Connections. A name that means something."
I stared at her.
"What do you want me to do?"
Something flickered in her eyes. Surprise? Pride?
"It's not about what I want. It's about what you choose." She stood. "I'll support either decision. But you need to make it. Now. He's waiting."
[CRITICAL CHOICE]
The Academy's Offer:
· Option A: Go with Corvin now. Enter the academy immediately. Skip remaining training. Face the world head-on.
· Option B: Refuse. Stay with Elara. Complete training. Gain strength. Wait for a better opportunity.
· Option C: Ask for time. Request a delay. Finish training first, then consider the academy.
· Option D: Meet him. Talk. Decide after. Gather information before committing.
---
I looked toward the door. Toward the man waiting outside. Toward a future I'd barely begun to imagine.
The old me would have frozen. Overthought. Let the moment pass.
The new me—the one who'd run at wolves, who'd learned to read in three weeks, who carried kills and choices and a spark that wouldn't quit—
The new me took a breath.
"Bring him in. I'll talk to him. Then decide."
Elara nodded. Just once.
But I saw it. The smallest curve at the corner of her mouth.
Good choice.
She turned. Opened the door.
"Corvin. Inside. Five minutes."
The tall man stepped through, ducking slightly under the frame. His eyes found me immediately—small, seven years old, standing by the library door.
He smiled. Genuine, this time. Or good acting.
"So you're the one causing all the whispers." He walked toward me, stopped a few feet away, knelt like Elara had. "I'm Corvin. And you are?"
"Ren."
"Just Ren?"
"Just Ren."
"Fair enough." He studied me. "You know why I'm here?"
"To take me to the academy."
"To invite you to the academy. There's a difference." He sat back on his heels. "Tell me about the corrupted. The ones you killed."
I hesitated. Looked at Elara. She nodded slightly.
So I told him. The attack. The spark. Pushing until I collapsed. Two days unconscious.
Corvin listened without interrupting. When I finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
"Uncontrolled. Untrained. No formal education. Seven years old." He looked at Elara. "And you've had him eight weeks?"
"Eight weeks. Yes."
"Eight weeks ago he couldn't read. Now he can." Corvin stood. Paced. "Eight weeks ago his spark was a rumor. Now he's killed corrupted with it." He stopped. Looked at me. "Do you understand how rare that is?"
I shook my head.
"Most mages train for years before their first real kill. Years of theory. Years of control. Years of safe practice." He pointed at me. "You killed before you could read. You killed before you understood what you were doing. That's not training. That's instinct. That's natural."
I didn't know what to say.
"Natural doesn't mean ready," Elara cut in. "He still has gaps. Reading. Theory. Control under pressure."
"Gaps can be filled." Corvin turned back to me. "Here's the truth, Ren. The academy wants you. Not because you're strong—you're not. Not because you're skilled—you're barely started. They want you because you have potential. The kind that appears once a decade. The kind that, with the right training, could make you one of the most powerful mages of your generation."
My heart pounded.
"But potential is dangerous. It attracts attention. Enemies. People who want to destroy you before you grow." He spread his hands. "At the academy, you'd have protection. Teachers who've trained dozens of mages. Resources most commoners never see. A path."
"And at what cost?" Elara's voice was sharp.
Corvin didn't look away from me. "The cost is freedom. You'll follow rules. Obey teachers. Compete with students who hate you for being common-born. You'll work harder than anyone else just to stay even."
I looked at Elara.
She met my eyes. Said nothing.
I looked at Corvin.
"When would I go?"
"Now. Today. If you choose." He glanced at Elara. "Or you can finish your training here and test next year. The offer stands either way. But the sooner you start, the sooner you catch up to students who've been training since birth."
[FINAL CHOICE]
The Path Forward:
· Option A: Go now. Enter academy immediately. Face the challenge head-on. Leave Elara behind.
· Option B: Stay. Complete training. Return to Elara for remaining weeks. Test for academy later.
· Option C: Negotiate. Ask for something—time to prepare, visits from Elara, guarantees about treatment.
· Option D: Refuse entirely. Decline the academy. Forge your own path.