Mages aren’t uncommon, numbering as high as one in ten among nobles and one in a hundred among the commoners. I'm all honesty I have long suspected that the number is higher for commoners, but with such low reporting on magic and low attendance to the academies it’s hard to know for sure.

These sorts of numbers of course apply to the countless orphanages spread amongst the country. Be it due to wars, adventurers meeting unknown fates, bandits or just bad luck the doors of these establishments never truly close.

And so I find myself travelling to one of the two in my territory feeling a strange sense of trepidation. Inspecting newly found mages isn't uncommon, even for someone with only a single small town and a handful of farming villages under my name, but this feels different. Is it because this is the first one found at that church, or is it perhaps because of that girl?

Just thinking of her makes my heart heavy with countless regrets. How I wish I could have protected her mother. How I wish I could have safely brought her into my home. How I wish I knew that the kindness that had been freely given would be returned with evil.

If it's that girl then her being a mage wouldn’t be a surprise. It's in her blood, even if it slipped generations to get to her. But what kind of magic would it be? Such a thing isn’t innate and even if a child shares an element with their parents the focus could be different.

Maybe it isn’t her. Maybe another child has discovered that they have magic instead.

But I wish it to be her. Then I could take her in. Then I could protect her while using the formality of securing a mage for the future of the kingdom. Then I could hide our blood ties and keep her safe like I should have when her parents died.

Then I can repent.

All these things pressed on me as I spent nearly an hour riding in a carriage to visit the orphanage. Taking a horse would have been faster, but with the stir of emotions in my chest I was afraid that I would be too lost in thought to make the trip safely.

Oh Lily, will it be your daughter I find there or another?

A sigh escapes my lips as my heart aches for my lost daughter. If it is my granddaughter then I can shield her from others, at least for a time. But can I truly protect her from harm? Even my own daughter wasn’t truly safe.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

As the steeple came into view of my window I forced down my feelings and adopted the cold mask of a noble once more. Even if it is my granddaughter I can never let her know the truth. Not if she’s going to have a chance to live a better life. Commoner mages have the ability to escape the politics that suppresses the freedom of us nobles. This means as long as she is a commoner she can be free of the lies, the double standards and the slow degradation of ethics that come from being forced down dark roads.

For her future I chose to kill my heart all over again.

As I step from the carriage an older woman I quickly recognize as the Sister Superior is waiting. Despite being at least thirty years my senior she still hasn’t list the spring in her step as she walks forward to greet me.

“Thank you for coming.” We ignore the differences of status between us and dispense of the formalities. I can’t make the woman who once served as my nanny lower her head to me. No, I always feel as if I should lower mine to her for spoiling me all these years. Even now she does as she hides my granddaughter from the world for me.

“It’s been too long since I last did. How is everything?”

She smiled at my sad attempt of trying to make small talk, the wrinkles on her face pushing up around her mouth. Part of me wonders if she’s gained a few more since the last time I saw her. “Very good. Only one new child has come in this year and most leave us married or apprenticed. One of the children, Julia, took over for Sister Liana in the kitchen last year and is thinking of joining the convent properly when she reaches age.”

Gently taking her arm in mine I lead her into the main part of the convent, listening to her ramble on about the children and what is going on with them. It’s both to humor her and to glean a little more about my granddaughter that I have broached this topic. Is she well? Was she the one who awoke as a mage?

Once we reached her chambers she let go of my arm and shut the door so we can talk privately. Once we’re seated in on the two simple wood stools that serve as her only seats, save her bed, she finally mentioned Veronica.

“It seems that child inherited some kind of magic.” Her face was placid as she spoke, her refusal to mention the name of the girl a way of hiding the connection a little deeper.

“Do we know what kind?”

She shook her head, “Not entirely. She seemed to be trying to invoke some kind of magic into a doll she made but since it wasn’t made of the right material it exploded with some of the remnants burning with black fire.”

I crossed my arms as my chin sunk to my chest as I thought. Black fire could be Dark Magic, or some kind of rare Fire Magic. But to try and put it into a doll? A summoner or enchanter perhaps?

We sat in silence for a short while before I broke out of my thoughts and looked up at her before muttering an apology.

“So, will you take her in?”

“Of course.”