Rohan's fingers trembled as they held the thin envelope. The paper crackled, its sound echoing in the quiet of the dining room like a thunderclap. It was just an envelope, just paper and dried ink, yet it felt like the weight of his entire future rested in his palm.

Lanterns cast long, dancing shadows on the worn wooden walls of his home. Their flickering light mirrored the nervous flutter in his stomach. Outside, the night sang with the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze. But Rohan didn't notice. His entire world had shrunk to the size of that single envelope.

He could feel the worn wood of the table under his fingertips. He could smell the faint scent of his mother's stew still lingering in the air. But it was all distant and muted.

All that mattered was the choice before him, held within that flimsy paper prison. It was a bridge, yes, but one crossing a gap far greater than any he had ever encountered on his family's farm. On one side lay the life he knew, the predictable rhythm of planting and harvest, the familiar comfort of his family and home. On the other side? The unknown. The potential for greatness, for magic, for a life filled with possibilities beyond his wildest dreams.

Taking a deep breath that did nothing to quiet the storm within him, Rohan tore open the envelope. The paper ripped with a sharp crack that echoed in the silent room, the sound as final as the message he was about to read.

He unfolded the letter inside, and his eyes quickly found the words that would change everything. They were simple and cut straight into him: “Your application has been denied.” These words struck like a thunderbolt from the sky.

The prestigious magic college wasn’t just any school. It was the birthplace of legends, a place where the ordinary became extraordinary. Here, dreams soared high on the wings of magic, turning everyday people into powerful mages who could rewrite the story of the world. Rohan had dreamed of walking those sacred halls. He wanted to learn the secrets kept for centuries.

But now, it felt like those dreams were slipping through his fingers like wisps of smoke. A cold sense of despair wrapped around him, tightening with every beat of his heart. Sharp pangs of regret stabbed at him. They reminded him of the opportunities he had let slip by and the time he had wasted. Rohan realized that he had been his own biggest obstacle, held back by laziness and a lack of discipline.

The thought of facing his parents was a heavy weight on his shoulders. They had always been there for him, believing in him even when he doubted himself.

But just as Rohan felt like he was going to be crushed by this failure, he felt a comforting touch on his shoulder. He looked up and saw his parents.

image [https://i.imgur.com/HtO4xoZ.png]

Their eyes weren’t filled with judgment or disappointment but with an ocean of understanding and love.

His mother Mary’s gentle smile cut through the chill of the night, her eyes shining with an endless supply of love. “It’s okay, Rohan,” she said softly, her voice soothing his wounded heart. “We’re proud of ya, no matter what.”

His father John stood firm, his eyes steady and supportive. “Don’t you quit now, boy. There’s other ways to be a magic man.”

Rohan tried to smile, but it was hard. His throat was tight with all the things he couldn’t say, all the feelings he couldn’t express. Standing there with his parents, he felt a huge wave of thankfulness. They were a lighthouse for him, shining their light to guide him through the stormiest of times in life. They were always there, always steady.

With one last look at his parents, Rohan said goodnight. He walked slowly to his room, each step feeling heavier than the last. When he finally lay down in his bed, his mind was a wild ocean in a storm. It was full of crashing thoughts and swirling doubts.

Rohan’s eyes were glued to the rough wooden beams above his head. Each crack and knot seemed to whisper the harsh words from the rejection letter. “Not skilled enough...” one gnarled knot seemed to say. “Try again next year...” hissed a long, snaking crack.

He tossed and turned on his mattress, the words echoing in his mind like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil. Each clang sent a fresh wave of disappointment crashing over him. What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he was destined to be just another face in the crowd, another farmer in the village?

The moon cast long shadows on the walls, twisting and turning like his own worries. He imagined a future where his days were filled with endless chores and hard labor. It was a future where his dreams of becoming a mage were nothing but a faded memory. The night stretched on, as endless as the fields surrounding his small village.

Finally, he was so tired that sleep took over, dragging him down into a rest that was anything but peaceful. In his dreams, he saw bits and pieces of good times mixed up with the pain of that rejection. He felt like he was tumbling through time, reliving the sweetness of victory alongside the bitterness of defeat, each moment flashing before his eyes.

The next morning arrived quietly, like a whisper of hope. Golden beams of sunlight spilled through Rohan’s window, filling the room with a warm and comforting light. It was like the sun itself was trying to cheer him up.

Outside, the world seemed to be waking up too. Birds were singing, their chirps like little bursts of joy. Leaves rustled gently in the breeze, making a soothing sound that felt like nature’s own lullaby.

For a moment, as he lay there, Rohan felt a sense of peace washing over him. It was a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions that had been swirling in his heart.

But this calm and quiet didn’t last long. Suddenly, Noah’s voice cut through the peaceful morning like an alarm clock that was way too loud.

Rohan squeezed his eyes shut, burying his head deeper into his pillow. The fluffy warmth was like a shield against the world, a world that felt too harsh right now. His stomach twisted with the memory of yesterday, the sting of rejection still fresh. All he wanted was to stay here, hidden away in his own little cocoon of sleep, where dreams chased away the pain. But the sounds downstairs were getting louder, dragging him back to reality.

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“Noah, shut up!” Rohan yelled, his voice heavy with annoyance.

But Noah, ever the energetic little brother, only got louder.

From under his blankets, Rohan couldn’t help but be a bit amazed at how full of energy Noah always was. It was like they lived in two different worlds. Noah’s was exciting and fun, but Rohan’s was a struggle.

Finally giving up, Rohan dragged himself out of bed. Every move felt hard, like he was walking in slow motion. When he opened his bedroom door, there was Noah.

image [https://i.imgur.com/SqZxGL7.png]

Noah looked like he was buzzing with energy, ready to take on the world. His hair was all over the place, sticking up in every direction like it had its own wild personality. His eyes were bright and full of life, as if he had been up and doing things since the crack of dawn.

Rohan, on the other hand, had been clinging to every second of sleep, as if he could somehow make the night last forever.

Noah’s voice was filled with impatience as he shoved a bucket into Rohan’s hands. “Come on, Rohan! Betsy isn’t gonna wait forever.”

Rohan, still in his drowsy state, grumbled quietly to himself. He slowly walked to the front door. Each step was a silent but clear protest against the early morning wake-up call.

The second he opened the door, a blast of cool air smacked him in the face. It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on his head, jolting him awake. It was a sharp reminder that a whole world was moving and buzzing with energy outside his cozy bed.

Walking further into the morning, Rohan felt his annoyance start to fade away. The air was crisp and fresh, filled with the smell of grass wet with morning dew. It was a smell that made one think of new starts. Every breath he took seemed to wash away more of his grumpiness. It was slowly replaced with a kind of unwilling admiration for the beauty of the early morning.

Their farm, a little slice of paradise, was tucked away in a stunning valley. It was surrounded by rolling hills and fields that stretched out like green seas under the morning sky. The landscape was a canvas of gold and green, lit up by the gentle glow of the sunrise. The world around him was waking up in a burst of colors. Each one blended into the next, creating a picture that felt peaceful and simple.

Here on the farm, time seemed to move differently. It wasn’t about the ticking of a clock. It was about the rhythm of the sun and moon, the changing of the seasons, and the patterns of the stars. The daily tasks were in sync with the natural order of the land and the needs of the animals.

Despite the never-ending work and the constant demands of farm life, Rohan found a deep sense of happiness here. It was a whole different world from the busyness of city life. Each day brought its own rewards and challenges.

Rohan paused for a moment, letting himself look at the farm. It was a view that always made him feel proud.

The fields were bathed in the early morning light. They seemed to whisper about all the good things that were growing and the abundance that was to come. The barn, strong and standing tall, was a symbol of all the hard work his family had put in over the years. It was dependable, just like them.

And then there was the old oak tree, a tree that had been there for ages. It was like a good old friend. It had offered shade and a place to rest under its branches for generations of his family. Looking at it, he felt like the tree was giving him a quiet nod of recognition.

Rohan’s boots crunched on the path leading towards the old barn. A sudden rustle in the bushes beside him made him freeze. His eyes darted towards the sound, searching for the source.

Just the wind, he thought, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Probably a squirrel or something. He continued on, but his steps were slower now, more hesitant.

Despite telling himself there was nothing to worry about, a prickling unease crept up his spine as he drew closer to the barn. It was a feeling he couldn’t shake, like a cold finger tracing its way down his back. The hairs on his arms stood on end, and a shiver ran through him, despite the warmth of the rising sun.

As he approached the barn, his eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. The wooden gate, normally shut tight as a fist, hung wide open. It was like a giant mouth calling him closer.

Rohan’s heart pounded against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against his fear. Betsy, their gentle cow, was his responsibility. She was more than just an animal. She was part of the family, providing milk that kept them fed. His stomach twisted at the thought of her being gone.

Rohan burst through the open gate, his voice echoing in the large space. "Betsy?" he called, his voice thin and shaky.

But only silence answered. The emptiness of the barn pressed in on him, increasing the hollow feeling in his chest. Panic, sharp and cold, snaked through him. His gaze darted everywhere, searching, hoping. He scanned the empty stalls, the hayloft, even the shadowy corners where the morning light hadn't yet reached.

Nothing.

Rohan sprinted out of the barn, his boots kicking up clumps of dirt as he searched the surrounding fields. He checked behind every bush, every tree, his eyes scanning the endless green pastures. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a desperate plea for Betsy to appear, to be safe.

Rohan started thinking of all the things that could have happened. Maybe a wild animal had gotten Betsy? But there was no sign of a struggle, no blood or anything. It was a small relief but didn’t help much.

Or maybe it was something worse? Dark thoughts started to swirl in his mind, thoughts of people sneaking around in the night. Could someone have stolen Betsy, taken her away from their peaceful farm life? The idea sent chills down his spine.

Sweat trickled down Rohan's head, stinging his eyes as it mixed with the dust kicked up by his frantic search. Every rustle of leaves, every chirp of a bird, sent his gaze darting, his hope falling with each passing moment. Betsy was gone, vanished like a wisp of smoke.

His mind, a whirlwind of worry, caught on a dark thought. Mayor Garen. The man's face, fleshy and smug, with eyes that shone like coins, rose in his memory. The mayor had a hunger for Betsy that matched his hunger for land and power. He had bothered Rohan's family for years, waving gold coins and empty promises, trying to buy their special cow.

Betsy wasn't just any farm animal. She was a C-rank cow, a rare breed known for the richness of her milk and the gentleness of her nature. She was family. Selling her was unthinkable. His father had always stood firm, a wall against the mayor's greed.

A shiver crawled up Rohan's spine. Had the mayor finally grown tired of asking? Had he decided to take what he couldn't buy? The thought clawed at him, sharp and cold. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't. Betsy needed him, his family needed him.

Rohan's legs burned, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran down the familiar path towards home. The world blurred around him, trees and fences melting into streaks of green and brown. His lungs screamed for air, each breath a ragged gasp that tore through the stillness of the morning. Fear clawed at his insides, twisting his stomach into knots.

He burst through the kitchen door, the hinges groaning in protest. The room was bathed in the warm glow of the rising sun, yet a chill settled over Rohan. His parents sat at the old dining table, their faces filled with worry, mirroring the storm raging inside him. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air. It was usually a comforting scent, but today, it was a background note to the tension that filled the room.

“Rohan, take a seat,” John said. His voice was calm, but there was a seriousness in it that Rohan had rarely heard before.

John pointed to a chair at the family’s old wooden table, its surface smooth from years of meals and chats. The room felt strangely quiet. The usual homey sounds were drowned out by the loud beating of Rohan’s heart.

“We gotta talk,” John said, looking right at Rohan. It was clear that something major had happened.