Rowan led me to the room which was simple but far more comfortable than anything I’d had in days. A soft bed, smooth linens, and polished wooden furniture made it feel like a noble’s chamber compared to the hides and dirt I had grown used to. Through the window, the festival preparations in the square caught my eye. The statue of Goddess Serelith stood illuminated by golden offerings of wheat, coins, and candles, her elven features serene and wise. It was a breathtaking sight, but the pull of exhaustion was stronger.

I sat on the edge of the bed, tugging at the bandages on my arms. They were fresh, thanks to the castle’s physician, but the blackened veins beneath still haunted me. Rowan entered, carrying a stack of books that looked ready to collapse under their own weight.

“Here,” he said, dropping them onto the desk with a thud. “This is what you’ll need for Zenith’s entrance exam. It’s everything I’ve been studying.”

I skimmed the titles. The Veil of Arcane: Magical Foundations by Darloc Avaris caught my eye first. The others were no less intimidating: Alchemical Principles and Formulas of the First Age by Maelyn Voth, Bestiary of the Elven Lands by Hargrid Tolar, and The Fall of the First Council by Seridan Grev.

“Light reading, huh,” I muttered, running a hand over the embossed leather cover of the first book.

Rowan grinned. “Alchemy and history ones are rough, but the magic and bestiary are manageable. Just reading the basic won’t be an issue. Especially if you’re good at memorizing stories.”

“Stories are one thing,” I said, flipping through the pages. “Alchemy’s another.”

“You’ll manage,” he said confidently. “Besides, you’ve got a head start if your mother taught you and your sister anything.”

I nodded, though the reminder of my family brought a sharp ache to my chest. “She did, but I was always more of a listener. Alira was the one who wanted to learn more than me, and mother never directly taught me about magic, says ‘That won’t be needed’.” I whispered, “Now I fully understand why.”

“Well, now it’s your turn,” Rowan said, slapping me on the shoulder. “You’ll need basics to get through written test of Zenith. And trust me, you want to get in with just that. There is much we can learn in Zenith, not just about magic but even different prospective of the world itself. It’s not just about learning—it’s about independence. It’s the only place free from the Council’s meddling or worldly influence. The place where politics and communal differences are not a thing, where there is no racial difference, and everyone is treated as equal.”

“Independence,” I repeated, the word tasting both sweet and bitter. “At the cost of ten silver a semester? That is hard to get by.”

Rowan winced. “Yes. My father will cover our first semester, but after that, we’re on our own. He’ll help you get in, but he’ll expect something in future.”

“Figures,” I said with a wry smile. “Nothing’s ever free.”

The hours passed quickly as I poured over the books. Rowan’s notes were a chaotic mess, but they helped when the texts became overwhelming. He talked about his own journey—how he awakened his magic, the old sorcerer who recognized his potential, and his father’s initial disappointment at having a son more inclined toward “fanatic” pursuits than physical prowess.

The next few days blurred into study and quiet reflection. The castle was a sanctuary, but its walls felt like a cage at times. My arms had healed faster than I thought possible, though the blackened veins lingered, a mark I couldn’t ignore. Each time I unwrapped the bandages, I expected the pain to return, but it didn’t. Whatever this magic was, it had left its scars.

————————————

On the final day before our journey to Thresha, the Celestara festival reached its peak. Rowan dragged me to the square, his enthusiasm unrelenting.

The streets were alive with music, laughter, and the smell of freshly baked treats. Fire bowls lined the square, their soft glow casting long shadows across the crowd. At the center of it all stood the statue of Serelith, her presence commanding yet gentle. Her flowing robes and elven features seemed almost alive in the firelight, and her cornucopia overflowed with carved plenty.

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Lord Thorvald and Lady Seline mingled with the crowd, their smiles warm and genuine. Farmers, merchants, and children alike approached them with reverence, offering thanks and small tokens of appreciation. Rowan watched his parents with a quiet pride.

“You see them?” he said, nodding toward the pair. “They trust him because he earned it. My father always says, ‘Breaking someone’s trust is like breaking your own reflection. It never looks the same again.’”

“He’s built something rare,” I said, observing the devotion in the townsfolk’s faces.

“What about you?” Rowan asked suddenly, his grin mischievous. “What will you wish for?”

“I don’t believe in prayers to some gods who never even existed,” I said flatly.

“There were times when I also thought the same, but there are still reasons why people believe in her.” He made an expression I had never seen on him before. As he began speaking and gazing at the statue, he continued, “Believing that there is someone out there who will listen to us in this harsh world means everything to many. The miracles of Serelith are as real as the new moon. There was a time when the farmers had nearly given up in these cold lands. My mother, who came from elven origins, suggested building a shrine for Serelith and worshiping her. Many were against it, saying, ‘We can’t have her in the same place as our old gods, whom our ancestors have worshiped.’ While their concerns were valid, they had little choice given the consistently poor harvests. So, that was the first time the town worshiped Serelith, and it is true that ever since then, the harvests have been improving. This has made the region prosperous, not just with food, but also with the blessing of someone out there who still cares for her children.”

"I didn’t realize how much she meant to the town until now. There was a time when I used to go to the temple with my mother. She never forced us to believe as she did, nor did she encourage us. As my father's illness progressed, her visits to the temple increased. Then, suddenly, they stopped. It was after my father's death that she was heartbroken. Since then, I have not seen her go to the temple or pray. I know it sounds foolish to wonder why she would stop, but sometimes people blindly believe that just because a person performed a miracle in the past, even if it’s a miracle that no one else has ever achieved. That does not mean that person is a god."

“Of course they don’t,” he teased. “Don’t say I never asked, but try just one time today. If not for me, then for your mother soul and your sister who is out there all alone.”

“I… will give it a try.” I said, with soft voice.

“That will be worth it.” He teased. “I’m wishing for the entrance exam—and maybe a beautiful wife who will be devoted to me and my family.”

“You’ll need a miracle for that one,” I said, unable to suppress a smirk.

As the ceremony reached its peak, Rowan pulled me toward the statue. “Come on,” he urged. “Even skeptics deserve a little divine luck.”

The statue loomed before us, its beauty almost otherworldly in the flickering firelight. Rowan clasped his hands together, bowing his head as he whispered his prayer.

“Mother, thank you for the blessings you’ve given us. Please guide me to Zenith and help me prove myself. Also, about that wife...”

I chuckled softly but felt an inexplicable pull as I looked at the goddess’s face. Her serene expression seemed to pierce through me, stirring something deep within. My breath caught as I lowered my head, my hands instinctively clasping together.

In the quiet of my heart, I spoke. "Forgive me if my prayer differs from your other devotees. I ask only for my mother’s soul to rest and my sister’s safety. She is a child. Protect her. And give me the courage to find someone important, someone who has already sacrificed more than she should."

For a brief moment, warmth spread through me, like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Einar,” Rowan said, his voice edged with awe. "What is that? It's glowing like a star!"

Startled, I reached under my cloak and pulled out the silver chain. The red crystal of the amulet pulsed faintly, its light dimming as quickly as it had appeared.

“What was that?” Rowan asked, his excitement barely contained.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, tucking it back under my cloak. “Just an old amulet. Probably caught the firelight.”

Rowan frowned but didn’t press.

That night, the castle felt quieter than usual. The festival continued outside, but within these walls, there was only the faint crackle of torches and the steady rhythm of my thoughts. A physician checked my arms one last time, marvelling at the speed of my recovery.

“No human heals this fast,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the blackened veins. “But whatever caused these… it’s not going away.”

“They don’t hurt,” I said. “Not anymore.”

“Good,” he replied, though his tone held an edge of uncertainty.

As I lay in bed, the amulet clutched in my hand, the weight of the coming journey settled over me. Thresha was a week away, and Zenith even further. But this was the first step if I wanted to protect Alira and find Valeria.

The statue’s warmth lingered faintly in my thoughts as I drifted into a restless sleep. Tomorrow, the road would stretch long before me. But tonight, I held onto memories.