Ellie paced along the path between the Academy’s herb gardens later that day, her thoughts as tangled as the climbing ivy that wound through the stone arches. She tugged at the collar of her robes—fine silk trimmed with silver thread, a new “gift” from the Academy council after her appointment as special advisor.
The robes felt too heavy, too formal against her skin, a constant reminder of the role she had stumbled into. She couldn’t quite get used to how the students stared at her now, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and curiosity.
Every time she rounded a corner, there seemed to be a group of them lurking just out of sight, whispering behind their hands. They watched her the way one might observe a rare creature, with a kind of reverent wonder that made her skin prickle.
She had never imagined herself as someone worthy of admiration, and she certainly didn’t feel it now. But to them, she was the hero who had stood against the devil king, who had wielded ancient powers beyond their understanding.
Elladora, of course, did nothing to dispel these notions. If anything, she seemed to delight in fueling them, her smiles a little too knowing whenever a novice mage stammered out a question about Ellie’s “legendary prowess.” It was all a game to her—a game that Ellie was struggling to play.
As if summoned by the thought, Elladora’s voice floated through the garden, carrying that lilting, teasing tone that had become all too familiar. “Ah, my special advisor, busy making plans to reshape the Academy, are we? Or perhaps contemplating the next time you’ll save the kingdom?”
Ellie shot her a glare, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “I was just... thinking.”
The students exchanged glances, clearly hanging on every word, and Ellie could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks.
She knew what they were thinking—that even Elladora, the archmage who had defied death and darkness, held some special admiration for her. That her very presence had drawn Elladora back to the Academy, as if she were some prodigy worth returning for.
Ellie tried to ignore the knot of discomfort in her chest. It had become a constant companion, growing tighter each time she saw the way the faculty bowed slightly lower when she passed, or the way the council members spoke to her in tones hushed with respect.
She could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on her, even as she clung to the knowledge that, for better or worse, she wasn’t alone in facing it.
Elladora stopped beside her, glancing over at the apprentices with a conspiratorial smile. “Run along, you lot.” She waved a hand. “I have important matters to discuss with your special advisor. Ancient mysteries to unravel, artifacts to unearth. You wouldn’t want to get caught up in such dangerous work.”
The students scattered with murmured apologies, and Ellie could almost hear their eager whispers as they retreated down the path. She let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging as soon as they were out of sight. “You didn’t have to do that. They think... well, you know what they think.”
Elladora raised an eyebrow, her smile quirking at the corners. “Oh, but that’s the fun of it, isn’t it? Let them have their illusions. It keeps them out of trouble.” She paused, studying Ellie with that unnerving, hawk-like gaze. “And it keeps you safely wrapped in layers of myth. Better that than letting them see how uncertain you feel.”
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Ellie bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to meet Elladora’s eyes. She wanted to argue, to tell her that she didn’t want to be wrapped in myth, that she would rather they saw her as she was—flawed, fumbling, far from the hero they imagined.
But a part of her knew Elladora was right. The stories shielded her, made the endless scrutiny a little easier to bear. And if it meant she could keep her secrets a while longer, perhaps it was a bargain worth making.
“Besides,” Elladora continued, her tone turning light again, “they’ll lose interest eventually. Students always do. Now, come—there’s a dreadful council meeting we need to avoid, and I’ve found a place with excellent spiced tea. Consider it a lesson in the art of distraction.”
Ellie’s shoulders slumped with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant relief. “You know, I thought you’d be stricter. Aren’t archmages supposed to, I don’t know, focus on actually teaching magic?”
Elladora laughed, a rich sound that rolled through the garden. “Oh, I’m sure Kolvin would love to tell you all about proper pedagogical methods.”She led Ellie down a side path toward one of the secluded courtyards. “But I find that the best lessons come when the mind is relaxed—when you’re not trying so hard to prove yourself.”
Ellie followed her, struggling to keep up with the swift change in tone. She cast a wary glance around, half-expecting to see some of the council members lurking among the rosebushes. But here, the shadows were deeper, the air cooler, as if the garden itself held its breath, waiting for secrets to be shared.
Elladora stopped by a stone bench, settling herself with a sigh. She gestured for Ellie to sit beside her, then reached into the folds of her robe and produced a small, polished stone that shimmered with inner light. She held it up between two fingers, tilting it so that the sunlight caught the veins of blue and gold that ran through it.
“This,” she said, her tone turning almost absentminded, “is a focus stone, carved from a vein of enchanted opal. It amplifies thought, sharpens the mind’s connection to the arcane. Kolvin would have you believe it takes years to master such a tool. But really, it’s about learning to listen—to feel the hum of its energy, rather than forcing your will onto it.”
Ellie leaned closer, her curiosity prickling despite herself. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing the cool surface of the stone. As soon as she made contact, a faint vibration ran through her hand, like the distant purr of a sleeping cat. She blinked, startled, and drew back.
Elladora’s smile deepened, but she didn’t press her. “It’s not so different from the relic you wielded, you know. Magic is as much about the spaces between as it is about power. The silences, the gaps in knowledge—that’s where the real art lies.”
Ellie frowned, turning the words over in her mind. It was a strange way of thinking about magic, one that she had never heard in all the rushed, half-understood lessons she had scraped together over the years. But there was something about it that resonated with the memory of that moment by the Abyss, when she had stopped trying to command the relic and instead let herself be carried by its current.
“I don’t get it.” She shook her head. “Why teach me this way? You could make me memorize a thousand spells, show me how to wield power like the other mages do. Why bother with all this—”
She gestured vaguely to the stone, the shadows, the quiet garden. “—when it doesn’t seem to matter to anyone else?”
Elladora studied her for a long moment, her expression turning thoughtful, almost serious. “Because you’re not like the others, Ellie. You never were.”
She let the words hang between them, their weight sinking into the air like a pebble dropped into deep water. Ellie felt the tension in her chest loosen, just a little, as if some knot she hadn’t realized was there had started to unravel.
She glanced at the focus stone again, at the way its light shimmered in the dimness, and wondered what secrets might be hidden within its depths.