It all began with her death.
The orphanage’s rusty bells tolled with a sound that echoed through the village, sharp as shattered glass. Aksel barely flinched anymore, even as the other children dashed to the orphanage fence, eager for a glimpse of any incoming stranger. Today, however, he allowed himself a hopeful glance.
Silvermoon Academy’s sleek, silent carriages were unmistakable, gliding on unseen currents of magic, untethered by any beast of burden. The door creaked open, revealing a shadowed interior. From the front descended a solitary figure, tall and dark as the box itself, a wide-brimmed hat shadowing a bony, birdlike face.
The children whispered nervously, casting furtive glances, but Aksel remained still, refusing to believe his eyes. Selenne appeared at his side, clutching her bag with an iron grip. She pressed Aksel’s few belongings into his hands, her irritation curling into a faint smile.
“Finally,” she murmured, though her eyes gleamed wet. The day had come. After sixteen long years, it had finally arrived.
“Mr. Night, at your service,” intoned the cloaked figure in a voice like wind scraping over stone.
The stranger extended a pale hand toward Selenne, who took it cautiously, stepping into the carriage as fast as she could. Aksel followed, settling into the plush seats, feeling the quiet hum of the wheels beneath him as they set off.
The two children gave one last look back at the orphanage—the only home they had ever known—and felt… almost nothing. No sadness, no satisfaction, not even as they met the seething gaze of the Mother Superiora. The broad woman stood red-faced, her breathing heavy with frustration, watching them depart toward a future most could only dream of. One she would always believe they didn’t deserve.
Through the village, a hush followed their path. Infants stared, some brave enough to wave, while their parents whispered and pointed with caution. It wasn’t every decade that the Academy’s carriage came to such a remote place, and never before had Homeless left in pairs.
As they passed the village’s last crooked fence, Aksel glanced at Selenne. Her dark hair fell loose over her shoulder, her expression a blend of determination and exhaustion. He knew how much she had fought to conceal her fear, how many nights she’d stayed on guard, pulling at her hair, waiting for any sort of news, good or bad, to clench her hope.
He touched her shoulder gently. She looked up, managing a small smile, though her hands remained tightly clenched on her lap. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it together.”
Selenne turned around happily and kicked the side of the box, her voice rising toward the front. “Hey, you!” she called, addressing the strange conductor, who was neither human nor cherubim, his nature as alien as the vehicle he guided. “What took you so long?!”
The conductor’s voice came from outside, smooth and oddly elegant. “For that, I must apologize. Lady Adelaide’s passing has… complicated business in the capital almost to a halt. My master has been exceptionally occupied, and I am but a humble servant.”
Lady Adelaide Elysandre Silvermoon—the greatest sorceress of her age, the woman who had served not only as the Academy’s headmaster but also as the de facto queen of Fiore, guiding the nation through both its brightest and darkest days—was gone. Her death was a tremor that would echo through the centuries, a break in the course of Fiore’s modern history.
Yet even this monumental event did little to soothe the turmoil in Selenne’s heart. She could still recall so many nights spent clutching her chest, praying that their invitation hadn’t been swallowed by the whirlwind of bureaucracy that now plagued the capital, fearing that they could remain anchored forever in their forsaken, isolated village that sat painfully close to the western border.
For Aksel’s sake, she forced herself to breathe deeply, willing her anger to ebb, if only momentarily. There was no room for rage anymore, no room to lash out like a caged animal. This was it—the life she had dreamed of was finally within reach. All she had to do was keep herself steady, to not tear it apart before it had even begun.
❖
Aksel wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he woke as the carriage shuddered. The road, lined with twisted trees, seemed to narrow, pulling them toward the heart of the kingdom.
Two weeks late. Two weeks late had their chance arrived, summoning them for the five-day long journey towards their new home.
His eyes wandered over Selenne’s sleeping form, surprisingly delicate despite the many fistfights and the stains on her black dress. He could tell how tired she was by the way she drooled, unrefined and uncontrolled. It was a sight Aksel would never share with anyone, not even Selenne herself—not if he wanted to live to see another day.
“You might want to take a look,” Mr. Night called.
Startled, Aksel reached for the small wooden window connecting to the front, but shook his head and opened the carriage door instead, standing on the threshold as they continued forward. The sight ahead took his breath away.
“How… how?” he whispered, his short hair stirring in the gentle breeze.
The capital city of Solstice lay before him, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun. As far as he could see, wide streets snaked into the horizon like rivers of cut stone. Half-timbered houses lined the roads, their designs a harmonious blend of wood and stone, displaying a freedom and scale of architecture that stunned the frontier-born boy. Logs from a dozen different trees had been chosen to stand out, complementing facades painted in shades of yellow, blue, red, and cream.
“Selenne! Selenne, wake up!” He shook her by the shoulders, and they both tumbled as the carriage tilted, crossing a short wooden bridge.
“Huh—What the…?” The girl jumped to her feet, ready for a fight, her mind dragging behind the instincts. “How long was I—”
“Two hours,” Mr. Night answered.
“Two hours? But then why… Holy shit, we’re here!”
Selenne poked her head out just as they rolled into a round plaza. The children playing around the fountain stopped to stare, and within seconds, their parents joined them, shouting in delight.
“Are they… happy?” the girl asked.
“Of course.” The servitor tipped its hat toward the crowd. “They’re here because of you. The academy and its sorcerers are the heart and soul of Fiore. Your mere presence brings trade and wonder to these otherwise unremarkable lands—and wonder, Miss Selenne, is worth more than gold.”
Selenne snorted, retreating to her seat, though she couldn’t quite tear her eyes away from the scene outside. “I’d take gold any day,” she muttered.
“You’ll hear a million tales of men and women emptying their pockets for a taste of wonder. But no one boasts about profiting from their own misery.”
“But they’ll do it anyway.”
“Indeed. Yet you won’t hear about it, for dead men tell no tales, and what is a life of misery but a tale of death stretched through many days?”
Selenne let out a sigh, her irritation fading into resignation. Though her soul appreciated the speed of their journey, she hadn’t expected to be standing on academy grounds that very same morning. Her body, though eager to press on, resented the effort with passion.
The bustling city soon faded behind them as the vehicle entered the tranquil outskirts of Silvering Lake. The sandy shore stretched out before them, alive with the hum of trading posts and the scent of brine, forming a lively hub of commerce just beyond the capital’s reach.
Nothing could have prepared them for what came next.
The self-propelled carriage approached the lake’s edge, and Aksel’s heart jumped into his throat. His mind raced, formulating a dozen plans to avoid plunging into the icy depths. But as the wheels touched the water, they continued—smooth as if rolling on solid ground. Aksel exhaled, his fear dissolving like mist.
Beside him, Selenne stifled a giggle behind her hand before reaching out to ruffle his hair. “We’re safe now,” she whispered through a smile. “You don’t have to worry anymore.”
Oddly, there wasn’t a single boat on the lake’s glassy, platinum waters. Their only companions were the ethereal cherubim gliding serenely above the surface. Some were familiar—small, spider-like orbs of soft blue light called Surawes. Others were larger, strange—creatures with many pairs of skeletal wings and elongated forms.
Both younglings breathed a sigh of relief as the lake receded behind them, savoring the reassuring solidity of the ground beneath their feet.
As soon as they reached land, the illusion of an empty island vanished, revealing a colossal manor—an immovable fortress crowned in ruby, perched on an emerald-green plateau framed by rocky slopes and distant forests. The carriage advanced along the intricate paths of carefully laid stone, which converged at a central point marked by the academy’s eight-pointed, round insignia.
Their journey had ended. A new one was about to begin.
The conductor slowed, then stopped before the grand double doors. Mr. Night disembarked with graceful precision, his every movement deliberate. “Please, follow me. Your first class is about to begin.”
“Our first class?!” Selenne gasped, tugging at the front of her dust-stained dress. “We don’t even have our uniforms!”
The servitor turned, his pale eyes reflecting the dim light as they narrowed slightly in confusion. “My master’s orders are to bring you directly to your first class. Please, cooperate.”
Aksel caught the brief flash of panic in Selenne’s eyes and placed a gentle hand on hers. She looked up at him, her fear momentarily cracking through her steely exterior. He squeezed her hand, offering a calm that had always anchored her in times of uncertainty. Together, they followed Mr. Night into the academy’s cavernous hallways, the air thick with silence and the scent of old stone.
The weight of the moment pressed down on them as they entered their classroom.
Aksel barely had time to process the room before a blur of wings and chitin shot past his face, forcing him to stumble back. A burst of soft blue light followed, forming a glowing circle in midair that snatched the fleeing cherubim and hurled it back into its cage.
“Ah, the Homeless,” said the man who had cast the spell. He stood tall, his golden mane of hair falling over a sour expression that made him look as if he had just bitten into a lime. “Well done, Mr. Night. You may rest now.”
With a bow, their strange guide crumbled to the floor, dissolving into a fine powder until nothing remained but a shiny, elongated skull—avian in shape—which the man scooped up without a second glance.
“Mr. Adam Becker,” the man called, turning toward a red-faced, rounded boy. “Please sit down. You’ve demonstrated your complete inability to catch anything other than a cold.” The boy mumbled an apology and returned to his seat. Then, with an air of disinterest, the man turned to Aksel and Selenne. “You two, take a seat. If you’re inclined to follow the lecture, there’s a blank grimoire in the drawer beneath your desk.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
It wasn’t the grand reception they had imagined. Nevertheless, they swallowed their unease and joined the other students, who were watching them with intense curiosity, as if they were some new, exotic creatures on display.
“For introductions’ sake,” the man continued, his voice as dry as parchment, “I am Amadeo Greco Angelopoulos, your prefect in the realm of history. Due to certain... recent events, I’ll also be overseeing other aspects of your education.”
He slumped into his chair, rifling through a stack of papers before glancing up again. “Now, who among you is brave enough to demonstrate their abilities without making a fool of themselves?”
His eyes swept across the room, stopping briefly on each reluctant face. Then, with a tap of his fingers on the desk, he singled someone out. “Mr. Varian, you’ve had a week to adjust to the pace. Would you care to show your fellow Homeless what you can do?”
“Yes, sir.” A tall boy stood, his posture both confident and relaxed.
By appearance alone, no one would guess he was an orphan. His attire was precise—an immaculate coat of deep green trimmed in gold, with a hint of red and black peeking from beneath. His sharp gaze, barely hidden behind his glasses, carried the weight of someone accustomed to himself.
Varian opened his grimoire as the cage door swung open, unleashing a crackling storm. The cherubim—a small, but fiercely glowing creature—buzzed with energy, its wings emitting static with each rapid beat. Aksel and Selenne had never seen anything like it—an elemental born of raw lightning, wild and unpredictable.
Without hesitation, the boy centered his pen and began to trace. A circle. Then one spike. Three spikes. The projections leaped from the page into the air, forming shimmering outlines. But before he could finish, the cherubim charged into the unfinished barrier, shattering the fragile magic with ease.
The creature swooped toward Varian with terrifying speed, forcing him to dodge. He flipped to the next page, undeterred, his movements quick but focused. The cherubim buzzed, its movements relentless, disrupting his spells again and again with each discharge of electricity.
“Mr. Varian,” the professor grunted, his voice carrying a thin layer of impatience.
The boy’s expression tightened. With a deep breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow and turned to the next page again. His pen moved with precision, retracing the lines. The spell required a single, continuous stroke. His hand did not falter. A perfect circle formed in the air, followed by walls that closed in around the cherubim, asphyxiating its chaotic energy. The final spikes shot out, completing the binding incantation and tethering the creature’s power to Varian’s own.
The room fell silent as the cherubim’s wild movements ceased. Varian’s knees buckled slightly under the strain, but he remained standing, victorious. A slow clap broke the silence—coming from a silver-haired girl with a triumphant smile. The rest of the class hesitated before joining in.
“As you’ve just witnessed,” Amadeo said, his voice low and unimpressed, “this class will, at the very least, guarantee you a pitiful measure of success.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Continue with your practice.”
Aksel and Selenne exchanged baffled glances. The casual atmosphere in the room didn’t match what they had just seen. The Homeless boy had effortlessly performed a binding spell, capturing the lightning cherubim as if it were nothing more than a moth and placing it under his command. They quietly opened their own grimoires, thrilled to learn.
The first few pages laid out a series of exercises, detailing the step-by-step instructions for the same spell Varian had just performed. Silvermoon’s Binding Vow, Fiore’s most iconic piece of sorcery, was now before them. They pricked their fingers, allowing a drop of blood to activate the ink on their pencils and claimed the books as their own. The rest of the hour they spent attempting to draw a perfect circle in a single stroke—failing again and again, despite their enthusiasm.
The high-noon bells rang, their chimes cutting through the frustration, signaling the end of class.
“That... was quite an introduction,” Aksel muttered, rubbing his sore wrist as he examined his broken attempts.
“Not what you were expecting?” Selenne teased, though she couldn’t hide her own excitement.
“More than I expected,” Aksel admitted. “Maybe I’ll actually fit in here.”
Just as they were about to leave, Amadeo’s voice cut through the chatter.
“Mr. Aksel, Miss Selenne,” he called, his tone firm. “Two things before you go. First, official lessons end at midday. You’re dismissed, but I strongly advise making time for extra practice. Two weeks of missed work will not be easy to recover.”
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Second, there will be a field-practice event in two days. Prepare thoroughly—it will not be forgiving if you aren’t ready. That’s all. Enjoy your afternoon. And remember, your day now starts at seven sharp.”
Selenne clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. Aksel offered a small, knowing smile, keeping his words in check until the professor was out of earshot.
“Umm… I-I’m sorry…” The silver-haired girl from earlier was reaching out hesitantly toward Selenne, but froze when she saw the hard lines of tension in Selenne’s forehead. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked, shrinking back.
Standing just outside the classroom, the pair from before waited, their eyes cautious but curious. As the timid girl retreated behind him, Varian stepped forward. “Hey,” he called. “We thought you two might need a hand.”
“A hand? For free? You—” Aksel’s usual grin was starting to form, but Selenne swiftly pulled him aside, her fingers digging into his arm.
“Not now,” she hissed, her eyes sharp as daggers. “Look at them. They’re not trying to scam us.”
Aksel relented, rubbing his arm. She was right—there was no malice in the other pair’s eyes, only an odd mixture of expectation and maybe... sympathy?
The girl beside Varian fidgeted nervously, her elegant outfit contrasting with her uncertain demeanor. Her short dress, trimmed with a vibrant green that faded into soft waves along her sleeves, stood out against the academy’s colors she wore—a sleek, open vest and cape that draped over her back, half-hidden by her voluminous silver hair. She looked like she belonged here, yet there was an air of self-consciousness about her that mirrored Aksel’s own uncertainty.
Selenne offered a strained but polite smile. “What my friend meant to say,” she began, casting a sidelong glare at Aksel, “is that we’d appreciate it if you could show us around the premises. If that’s alright with you.”
“The premises? We were actually planning to head into the city. I don’t want to judge, but it seems like you’ve had a rough day,” Varian replied, tilting his head.
“Ehhh… We weren’t in the mood for a swim,” the girl raised a worried brow, recalling their way to the academy.
The boy looked confused, then amused. “A swim? Oh, no.” He chuckled. “The bridge is lifted every day from noon until dusk. Just don’t get stuck on the other side or the teachers won’t be too pleased.”
Aksel huffed. “One can only imagine that old man happy.”
Both Varian and the girl hiding behind him couldn’t help but smile. “And this one here is Elowin, my trustworthy shadow. Although, you might have caught onto that already.” Being pushed to the front, Elowin gave an awkward wave.
Reading between the lines, Aksel glanced around. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but it seemed like most of the other students were deliberately steering clear of their small, unruly group.
With that in mind, he stepped forward. “A personal tour, from one Homeless to another, huh? Sounds fine by me.”
Without further delay, the four of them headed outside the academy. And sure enough, just as Varian had said, they reached the shore and found a magnificent bridge made entirely of carved stone, with patches of grass sprouting from every crack. Dozens of students were heading in both directions, each focused on their own group of friends but sharing an atmosphere of casual excitement. It was a stark contrast to the usual ambiance at the orphanage. Every student they saw, no matter their reasons for coming, looked genuinely happy to be there.
Elowin and Varian were their own whole thing. With the girl slowly opening up during the small journey, it wasn’t too hard to imagine how they bounced off of each other, with Varian’s uncaring yet serious front serving as a shield for her complete inability to make eye contact.
“First stop,” Elowin exclaimed, jumping ahead.
The store in front of them was ancient. It had clearly been a house at some point, but little of that remained. The pure-white walls contrasted sharply with the dark beams forming crosses across the front, highlighting a vitrine showcasing an array of beautiful outfits in various colors and designs—from traditional formalwear to simple, handmade pieces. Inside, the store resembled a clothing library, with racks stacked to the ceiling, filled with attire gathered over many years.
“Nana!” The girl pushed the door open with confidence, guiding them inside. “We’ve got friends!”
Aksel stifled a laugh as an elderly woman, looking ancient enough to have gone to school with Mother Nature herself, emerged from the depths of the store. Her wrinkled face wore a soft smile, and she was dressed in a simple, old, wool dress.
“Oh, Elowin, my dear…” the elderly woman spoke in a raspy voice. “And where did you find this lovely young lady?” She approached Selenne, taking her hand and inspecting the edges of her sleeves. “Hmm… No, no. This won’t do. What house are you from, sweetie?”
Before Selenne could respond, Elowin interjected. “Her family is from the west, nana,” she whispered, “near the border.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” The older woman embraced Selenne warmly. “Why don’t you step into the back? We’ll find something for you.”
Selenne, feeling overwhelmed, looked towards Aksel for support as she was guided away. He shrugged, counting the coins in his pocket, until Varian’s voice pulled him back to the moment.
“How much do you have?”
“Ten golden sun’s total,” Aksel replied.
“You’ll be fine, just play along,” Varian assured him.
By the time the three women came back, Selenne was unrecognizable.
Perched on her head was a small, wide-brimmed hat adorned with carmine roses. A white blouse, trimmed around the neck and topped with a crimson bow, accentuated the midnight outfit on top. The buttoned corset, somehow fitting without a struggle, complemented the gold-trimmed, full-length skirt that dragged to the floor. The dark, puffed sleeves and regal appearance made Selenne look like the firstborn daughter of a grand noble house. Or in other words, she couldn’t have looked less like herself.
“I feel like an asshole.” Were the first words to come out of her mouth.
“Then it must be a perfect fit,” Aksel responded with a grin.
“Oh, sweetheart, is that your boyfriend?” The older woman’s comment made the boy chuckle.
“She’s still working on that,” he replied.
“Well, you’d better look the part if you’re going to be so witty!” the storeowner scolded, pulling him aside with a casual air.
In all truth, Aksel couldn’t have cared less about fancy clothes or wearing something that flaunted the academy’s colors for the sake of prestige. But at the end of the day, this was a job, and he needed a uniform.
He ended up in a plain, formal wine-red shirt, hidden beneath a snug black vest, paired with a decent set of pants and the first shoes that fit him. To his amusement, none of his companions seemed particularly impressed by his choices, which was probably for the best.
“Winds, you have no taste.” Dropping her pretentious demeanor, Selenne seized him by the collar and dragged him to a nearby rack. “Stay here.”
“Selenne, we’re—”
“Oh, shut your mouth before I do.”
“But—”
“You were the one saying we needed new clothes, so don’t try to pin this on me now!” It had been a while since she had raised her voice at him, but after such a day the girl was clearly starting to show some cracks. “It’s your money, anyway. Like you said, I’m not your girlfriend, so stop thinking about me!”
Without further debate, she picked out a soft, snow-white scarf and fastened it around his neck, then removed one of the crimson flowers from her hat and pinned it into his breast pocket.
“There, now you can try to convince others that I like you.”
As the moment of payment arrived, Aksel’s hands trembled slightly as he searched through his old clothes. His fingers brushed against the familiar texture of the small leather pouch containing their savings. Taking a deep breath, he pulled out two golden suns.
“How much do we owe you?” he asked politely, biting the inside of his lip.
The old woman hesitated, her faded eyes flickering as she deliberated. “For the pair? Let’s settle on four silvers,” she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself.
Aksel and Selenne exchanged a glance, their eyes then drifting to the fine golden trimmings on their new ensembles. The price wasn’t just low—it was an insult, not even nearly enough to cover the cost of the materials, much less the work places in putting the pieces together.
Selenne’s voice broke the moment, charged with indignation. “We don’t need handouts, we—”
“Now listen to me, girl, and listen clearly,” the woman interrupted, suddenly sharp. “I don’t know if you have noticed, but I’m old. Old enough that one of these days, I’m just going to die, and your coins… they’ll rust away in some forgotten corner of this store.”
Aksel stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “Then why keep working? You could have sold this place and lived a good life somewhere else.”
The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief, a brittle laugh escaping her lips, carrying both sorrow and a fierce pride. “Why work, you ask? Boy, I’ve been here for sixty-five years. This store, these walls, they’re all I know, all I’ve ever known. What would I do without them?”
Her voice wavered, and for a moment, the strength in her legs gave way. Elowin rushed to her side, guiding her gently to a rocking chair. The woman’s hands gripped the armrests, her knuckles white as she fought against the weakness in her body.
She looked up at Aksel, her eyes now glistening with unshed tears. “I always wished I could be a sorceress. Since I was a little girl, that’s all I ever dreamed of. But fate… fate can be cruel. There’s no place in the sun for someone like me, born without the gifts, without talent. But you… both of you… you were born with greatness in your blood. You’ll walk paths I could never tread, see wonders I could only imagine.”
Her words cracked, and she gestured to the fine clothes they wore, the work of her own hands. “So take them, boy. Take the wings I’ve woven for you and let them carry you far from here. Take that beautiful girl’s hand and fly—fly away from this tomb I’ve made for myself on this wretched shore. Live the life I never could.”
In that moment, as the woman sat before them, frail yet unyielding, Selenne swallowed hard, feeling the sting guilt tightening her throat.
With a solemn nod, Aksel placed the coins gently on the counter, pushing them towards her. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice unknown to such honesty—a promise, perhaps, to carry her spirit with them.
It took a long time before any of the students said anything after leaving the store.
After a few hours of wandering aimlessly through the city, soaking up the afternoon sun and the vibrant, chaotic energy of the public spaces full of delighted faces, the four of them ended up at a lakeside establishment, settling in for a warm meal. Whether it was hunger, a need for rest, or simply a chance for Aksel and Selenne to process the whirlwind of the day, they welcomed the break.
It was only once the food arrived that Selenne finally spoke.
“What was that back at the store?” The girl’s eyes burned with intensity as she fixed her gaze on Elowin. “How did you know we’re from the west?”
Elowin’s face turned pale, her expression one of pure horror. Varian simply chuckled.
“She was lying,” he said with a casual shrug. “Here in the capital, it’s common for nobles to use ‘go west and die’ as a kind of insult. If you ask anyone where the poor people live, they’ll point towards the setting sun.”
In a sense, what they explained was painfully obvious.
Regenia, the nation to the west of Fiore, was infamous for its violent nature. Every villager had lived through at least one of the wars ignited by their barbaric neighbors. Many took pride in having witnessed several such conflicts, attributing wisdom to themselves as if they had fought alongside the Fioran knights.
This was more than enough for the other children to exclude Aksel from their cruelty, focusing their malice entirely on Selenne after one of the orphanage sisters clumsily revealed that the girl’s parents were not Fioran at all, but travelers from the west who had left her behind after crossing the war-drawn border.
At times, it seemed as if they believed she had killed their parents herself. Aksel didn’t dwell on it much: to him, she was just Selenne, a fellow Homeless—another child abandoned by sorcerers, severed from her past for reasons they could only guess. Whoever her parents had been didn’t change the fact that she was his only friend, the one person he could trust.
“Why not just tell her we’re Homeless, then?” Aksel added. “Afraid of missing out on a discount?”
As Elowin’s face reddened with embarrassment, her partner spoke again. “Every prestigious house is based here in the city, sorcerers or not. For some people, the Homeless are considered worse than commoners. We just... don’t give them a reason to hate us, not worth taking the risk.”
Aksel continued pressing. “You seem to know a lot for someone who’s been here only a week.”
“W-we actually grew up here in Solstice,” Elowin finally found her voice. “So, once the academy started… after a week we just…”
“Let’s say we believe you,” Selenne charged. “Why even go through all that trouble? And please don’t say it’s because we’re all the same here.”
The question hung in the air as the two other Homeless exchanged glances. After a final sweep of the horizon, the silver-haired girl nodded in silent agreement.
“Alright,” Varian conceded. “We do need a favor from you. But before we discuss that, could I ask if either of you has an inheritance?”
Inheritances for Homeless sorcerers came in two forms. The first was monetary. Aksel carried his own inheritance—ten Golder Suns, left by his parents at the orphanage for a situation like this. Ten Golder Suns was a significant amount, enough to cover their expenses for the year, assuming the academy provided food and lodging.
That was not where the discussion had shifted.
What Varian referred to was something far more valuable for a Homeless child than gold: an inherited technique. Major families held techniques that evolved with each generation, shifting and adapting with the ebb and flow of magic and society. It was common for children from such families to end up in orphanages if they showed no sign of these techniques, as some noble houses preferred to avoid the uncertainties involved in passing them on. Even if a child could develop a technique later during their life, many families chose to save themselves the years of waiting and start anew.
“I do,” Selenne murmured.
Elowin’s face lit up with delight.
“Well, that’s unlucky for us,” Varian said with a wry smile, mockingly sympathetic to Aksel’s silence. “But two should be enough.”
“Are we planning something dangerous?” Selenne asked, trying to mask her eagerness.
“I wouldn’t call it planning—more like an… inevitable situation,” Varian replied. “There’s a ‘test of courage’ for those who failed their first year, and the Homeless. You’re allowed to bring a partner, but it can’t be someone you knew before coming to the academy.”
“So, you want us to team up with you? Just the four of us?”
Varian offered a grin. “I wouldn’t say you have much choice. Unless another lost soul shows up during the next week, we’re all there is. Refusing the test will only give the others a reason to treat you like shit for the rest of the year.”
Aksel took a deep breath, glancing at Selenne. For her, the challenge was a thrilling opportunity. It was the kind of risk where her inheritance could truly make a difference. For Aksel, the pressure of an impossible choice was unsettling, but the decision was made. He could only hope their new companions would prove themselves trustworthy.