They stood at the precipice of the courtyard. A large wall and temple, the size of such a building she had never seen before, dwarfing even the great hall of the river town they had stayed in months prior. The gate itself stood open, the top was rounded and rose into two sharp spikes. Syndra recognized it as the symbol of balance, but this depiction had her think of something between a crown and a tuning fork. She moped looking at the architecture in front of her, completely oblivious to the world around her. The courtyard was spacious, comfortably able to hold a small market of stalls and carts. Flanked on three sides by respectively the wall, the barracks, and the main building. The fourth side lead into a lush garden, with plants Syndra recognized, and many more she did not. A small buck ran from the very top of the cliffside, through the garden, creating a small watering system. A few small trees were stood by a pond in the middle of the glade. The gardens themselves facing eastward, overlooking the inland sea. The plot held a zen garden, with a lifted gazebo connected to the main building. The garden was large, holding many elements. The nature meticulously ordered and segregated, each plot with their own purpose. She saw other people meditating in the gardens. Their mat-green thin over-shirts billowing slightly in the wind, underneath they wore thicker light-grey and white sarouel pants and shirt underneath, to shield from the cold ocean winds. The pagoda temple held a large open bottom floor and narrowed toward the top. The temple was mostly black from the stone it was built from, but the outside was adorned with woven plants and wood. Even with the late autumn cold, the heat of the sun upon the bare stone heated Syndra’s feet even through her worn moccasins. The temple was part of the mountain-side itself. Reminding Syndra of steps leading even further up. To her left was a long building, nestled close to the mountain, leaving little room around it, with a small space in the corner between it and the main building. A hand fell on her shoulder. Like struck with lightning from clear skies, she zapped back into the present. She looked up and saw Konigen, who was currently talking to a young, maybe slightly younger than herself, vastaya girl. Her budding antlers wrapped in a small cloth and floppy ears drooped almost to her cheeks. She was quite meek indeed. Syndra balled a fist as she stared at this vulnerable creature in front of her. Prey, she thought to herself. A mage shouldn’t be weak, what is she even doing here? Doubt creeping into her mind. “-just the basics. When you’ve finished you may go to the mess. Remember she is your charge for now.” Konigen finished. Whatever they were talking about Syndra hadn’t heard. So, when Konigen walked into the gardens, she stepped to follow. “Uhm… The barracks are this way.” Yima stammered. Syndra turned. “Sorry.” Twisting her palm around her wrist. “Let’s go?” They looked at each other for a moment, cheeks flushed. Yima took a few steps backward, toward the barracks. She led Syndra through the long building. It held two stories of rooms, most of which were sleeping quarters. She spoke of the different parts of the building the ages and sexes were split into four quadrants. Most people who came, would only stay for a few months, but some, either had too much to learn, or nothing to return to, and so would simply stay for longer. Yima slowed as she spoke those words. Yima brought her to a small room, holding a single bunk bed and a worktable. A porthole leading out into the small space between the shaved mountain-side and the housing building they were currently in. “S- So, here we are. We don’t have much room, but you didn’t bring much so it should be fine.” Yima rubbed antler-like protrusions, eyes downcast. Syndra taking the hint, left her bundle on the top bed, jumping to lob cloth, comb, and pouch onto the loft with a clatter. On the table lay a half-carved imitation of the symbol above the entrance. One of the long peaks had been carved so far, bringing it into imbalance. It was imprecise, but clearly hand carved. “Master Konigen says it represents the balance required to achieve mastery. That’s why I’m carving it.” She explained, with her right hand on her left shoulder. Syndra placed it above her, like a crown. Yima quickly snatched it away, her eyes large, as she hugged the object close to her. “Sorry... It’s not finished” Yima’s voice was quiet. She placed it back on the small table. Syndra was surprised of the fast reaction. She had clearly made some faux pas, though she did not understand exactly what. The pair walked out to the end of the hallway, where the stairs into the basement were.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Together the two girls explored the various nooks of crannies of the temple grounds. From the basement to sheds and groves. Small outcroppings along the cliffside on the edge of the temple, the rocky landscape just outside the temple grounds themselves. The grounds were surprisingly large, a castle in its own right. It was large enough that even with the afternoon they have, the hunger caught up, before the tour was finished. Yima finished with only a cursory introduction to the garden’s plants. With day fast becoming evening, the two moved into the pagoda. The main hall smelt sweet from the fireplace and the stew boiling above it oval and symmetrical. A fireplace and stove was embedded into a cavernous hole. On either side were a pair of wooden tables, grown from the side of the wall, used for preparing the food. The inside was lit with an opaque blue light slowly dancing across the stoneworks. Large tables and benches sprang from the dark rock beneath. Small blue flames lazily waved in the air, emitting curious warmth. Along the rightmost wall, a flight of stairs let upstairs The other students were present in the room, merrily speaking, filling the room with idle chatter, even if they were only slightly above a dozen. The two moved to the cauldron above the fireplace, taking the stew and sat by the other students. None older than thirty, most were young, but Yima and Syndra were the only children present. Even if Syndra could only barely be considered a child. They ate and listened to the conversations held by the older inhabitants. She sat in silence, head downcast. Neither shameful nor bashful. She simply just wanted to avoid questions. Luckily, no questions came to her. The stone, while hard an uncomfortable, was oddly warm. Listening to their idle conversation to keep herself entertained. The food was bland, yet appreciated. It was very filling. Konigen came out from the corridor to the east. A few scrolls carefully tucked under his right arm. With his other he gripped a ladle and poured the thick stew into a bowl. He sat down beside Syndra, paying her little mind. As if her presence was as natural as any of the other students'. He unfurled a scroll, traced a finger across the parchment, continuing from the place he left off. Peeking at the dry scroll she read a schematic of a quinlon, with many words and symbols she did not recognize. She has an impulse, a want. Something she had not felt in a long time. Like a trickle of curiosity from a walled-off spring, finding its way through the stone. She would stare at the diagrams and read what little she knew. Quinlons, azakana, spirits, far-off lands where magic does not flow. Her fantasy ran wild. Inspired she couldn't help but try to read along, only understanding every fourth word. The rest had finished their meals, but Syndra only noticed when Konigen rolled away his scrolls. She followed him upstairs like a shadow, through a corridor, and snuck into a room filled with dim stone shelves, stuffed with tomes upon tomes. A worktable rested against the wall, upon which were two scrolls, a copying process left half-finished. He put the parchment into one of the many crevasses. Syndra walked to the half-written document, and placed her hand on it "A curious one, aren't you?" Konigen asked. A cheeky smile on his lips. "You know, you shouldn't be in here"

Syndra stared back. Too frozen to answer, sensing she had transgressed. He walked closer, but like a wounded dog she backed away. She turned to the strategy that had helped her avoid most conflicts before, she ran. Out of the room, into the corridor, down the stairs, she turned. Yima put out her arms and caught Syndra, the two tumbled to the ground. "Sorry" she said, rubbing her scraped hands. "Why are you running?" Syndra did not answer, but instead kept running. It was her fault for not telling me the library was off limits. She did not want to face repercussions, and neither did she have the strength to flee. She ran into the garden, past the bushes and toward the small pond. By the edge she stood. From there she could see the roofs of the harbor village, and far in the distance, across the inland sea, spangled light of the town she had spent half the winter. Her family, so far away. Only then, in the still morror of the pond, did she realize how far away she was. From her home, from those she had known and where her life had been. A tinge of sadness from a thread severed with little thought, but now also the freedom to pursue what she was. She could finally be who she was meant to. Sovereign. A hand on her shoulder turned her. Yima wiped the tear from her cheeks, that Syndra had not realized had fallen. Hand in hand the two girls walked back to their room.