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The crisp morning air in Valamore was filled with the gentle hum of activity as townspeople went about their daily business. The cobblestone streets, lined with quaint, timber-framed houses, wound their way through the heart of the town, leading up to an estate that overlooked the valley.
Since Lady Lobhdain's appointment to govern Valamore, the town had undergone a remarkable transformation over the past two decades. Once poor and desolate, it had blossomed into a thriving community and one of the most prosperous towns in the northern kingdom. The markets now bustled with trade, and the number of children had grown, reflecting the town's newfound prosperity. Lady Lobhdain had initiated numerous projects to improve the town’s irrigation system, created trade routes and elevated the overall quality of life for the people.
However, five years ago, she had been summoned on a mission by the king of Elahra and never returned, vanishing without a trace. In her absence, the burden of governing Valamore fell upon her husband—a kind-hearted man, but one ill-suited to the pressures of leadership. Though he upheld his wife’s governing standards, the strain of responsibility soon became evident. The town’s progress had stagnated, its once-thriving innovation dulled in the absence of its true visionary. The steady hand that had once guided Valamore was sorely missed, and quiet whispers of concern rippled through the streets. Murmurs of longing for their absent Lady grew with each passing year, an unspoken weight that pressed ever heavier upon the current Lord’s shoulders.
Standing at the edge of the town square, Aileen Lobhdain waited anxiously for the carriage that would mark the beginning of her journey. Though naturally self-conscious, there was no denying her striking beauty. Her pale, north-born skin caught the morning light, glowing softly like the first rays of dawn. Deep amber eyes, sharp and reflective, glimmered like liquid gold, while her midnight-black hair cascaded in soft waves past her shoulders, framing her delicate yet determined features.
She wore a black travel cloak fastened at the neck with a silver clasp, its hem trimmed with understated embroidery. Beneath it, a simple yet finely tailored gown of dark grey complemented her figure without drawing undue attention, the fabric sturdy enough for travel but refined in its craftsmanship. Practical leather boots peeked out from beneath the hem of her dress, scuffed slightly from the morning’s walk but polished enough to hint at her upbringing. Around her neck, a delicate gold pendant rested against her collarbone—a gift from her mother before her departure.
From a young age, Aileen had been captivated by magic. She would often sneak out of bed to watch her mother practice fire magic in the quiet hours of the night. When her mother finally caught her, she hadn’t been scolded—instead, Lady Lobhdain had spent a small fortune ensuring Aileen had access to every book she desired on the subject. Though she had never aspired to become a magician herself, everything changed after her mother’s disappearance. Since then, she had dedicated herself to studying, clinging to the hope that magic might one day lead her back to her.
Once she turned fifteen, suitors of various ages had begun to arrive at the state—each one bringing multiple gifts and each one swiftly turned away by her father, their interest and presents met with unwavering dismissal. At the time, she had been grateful for his overprotectiveness, he excused himself reasoning that without her mother’s guidance, there was no proper way to entertain such proposals. But now, with her eighteenth birthday behind her, Elahran law dictated that her future was her own to decide. Her father would have no more excuses, no more barriers to shield her from expectation. Soon, she would be expected to receive and consider suitors herself—unless she had a higher calling.
A year prior, Aileen had secretly applied to the prestigious Guild of Mages to further her studies in magic, keeping the decision from her father. She understood his reluctance all too well. In his eyes, magic had stolen her mother away. It was magic that had drawn her into the king’s service, sending her on a mission from which she had never returned. No matter how many letters he had sent, the king had offered no word of her fate. The thought of Aileen following the same path filled him with dread—the unbearable fear that he might lose his daughter just as he had lost his wife.
Which was why she had expected his outrage when an official examiner from the Guild arrived to test her knowledge. Though her father had objected to his presence, the examiner remained composed, calmly reminding him that, as an eighteen-year-old, Aileen had the legal right to pursue her own path—and that any attempt to interfere would be a criminal offense. That had been enough to silence him, though his displeasure lingered.
The test had taken place in their personal library, the weight of her father’s disapproval pressing down on her the entire time. But when the examiner finally closed his ledger and looked at her with a satisfied nod, she knew she had passed. His congratulations had been simple yet life-altering: in five months' time, a carriage would arrive at the town square to take her to the Guild. She was to be ready.
The argument had been long and bitter, filled with sharp words and simmering tension. Her father’s voice had risen, each demand laced with desperation, until he delivered his final ultimatum—disownment. The word struck her harder than any blow ever could, sending a sharp sting through her chest. Tears welled in her eyes, but something deeper surged beneath the hurt—an emotion she so rarely allowed herself to feel.
Anger.
Not just at his attempt to control her life, but at the realization that his fury was rooted in something far more devastating. Fear. The kind that only came when one had already accepted the worst.
It wasn’t about the Guild, or the dangers of magic. It was about loss. He had already buried her mother in his mind, and now, he was willing to sever his ties to Aileen, too, if it meant keeping her from the same fate.
And that, more than anything, broke her heart.
“Then go ahead,” Aileen said, her voice cold and cutting. The colour drained from her father’s face. “I hope you’re as prepared to lose your only daughter as you clearly were to lose your wife.”
Her words struck like a blade, raw and unforgiving. His mouth parted, but no words came. She refused to let him see the tears burning at the edges of her vision, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his threat had wounded her.
Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode to her room, slamming the door behind her. The heavy silence of the estate pressed in around her, but for the first time, it felt suffocating rather than safe.
She had spent the days leading up to her departure in quiet penitence, the weight of her words pressing heavily on her chest. How could she have spoken to her father that way? He had deserved some harshness, yes, but to bring up her mother? That was unforgivable.
Shame curled inside her like a slow-burning ember. She left her room only when necessary—to bathe, to step briefly beyond the estate’s walls to see her friends—but otherwise, she remained secluded, instructing the servants to bring her meals upstairs. Her father had done much the same, locking himself away in his study. Since their argument, they had not seen each other once.
And in truth, Aileen wasn’t sure she wanted to.
She couldn’t bear to face the damage she had inflicted, couldn’t stomach the possibility of seeing regret—or worse, pain—etched across his face. Instead, she settled for asking the butler about him in passing, never prying too deeply. It was a coward’s way of showing she still cared, but it was all she could manage.
She was pulled back to the present by the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned to see her childhood friends approaching her, Len Alnwick and Angeline Mendoza, their faces bright with excitement.
Len, who came from a local family of bakers, stood tall and lean, his sandy brown hair perpetually unruly, always falling into his dark brown eyes despite his best attempts to tame it. His natural tan, the result of countless hours spent in the sun delivering bread or helping in the fields, gave his complexion a warm, healthy glow that contrasted with Aileen’s fairer skin. His mischievous grin, a signature trait, was firmly in place, as usual. His brown eyes sparkled with the same playful enthusiasm that had gotten him and Aileen into trouble more times than they could count in their younger years.
He wore simple, practical travel clothes—dark pants and a tunic—topped off by a light brown cloak draped casually over his shoulders. Though worn from years of use, the cloak remained sturdy, ideal for the journey ahead. His scuffed boots bore the marks of countless past adventures, a testament to the carefree boy Aileen had grown up with. Despite the passing years, that playful glint in Len’s eye remained—a reminder of the boy she had known since childhood.
Angeline, in contrast, carried herself with effortless poise and grace, though those who knew her best were well aware of the fire that smouldered beneath her refined exterior. Her vibrant red hair cascaded in flowing curls down her back, its brilliant hue a striking contrast to the warm undertones of her mixed heritage. Sharp, almost ethereal features only heightened her undeniable presence, making her the most striking among them. Her emerald-green eyes, alive with anticipation, gleamed as she approached, barely able to contain her excitement. Her father, an immigrant from the distant kingdom of Valencia, had met her mother—a local baker—and together, they had not only built a family but intertwined their lives with Len’s, their shared business forging a lasting bond between them.
She wore a forest-green tunic that matched her eyes perfectly, its tailored fit accentuating her elegant frame. Paired with dark trousers for ease of movement and a long, dark cloak fastened with a silver clasp at her neck, her outfit struck the perfect balance between practicality and sophistication, refined in every detail yet suited for the journey ahead.
Where Len brought mischief and laughter, Angeline brought warmth and balance. There was a kindness to her, a quiet strength that offset Len’s playful nature. Together, the three of them had been inseparable since childhood, bound not only by their countless shared adventures but also by moments of quiet companionship, the kind of bond that had only grown stronger with time.
“Aileen! Are you ready for this?” Len called out, his voice brimming with excitement as he reached her side. “This is it! The Guild of Mages—can you believe the day has finally come?”
Aileen offered a small smile, though the weight of the moment still pressed heavily on her. “I’ve been ready for months, Len. But now that it’s actually here... it feels like I should be staying instead of leaving.”
Angeline stepped forward; her expression softer than usual. “Your dad, huh?” she guessed, her voice gentle.
Aileen hesitated before nodding. “Yeah... I still haven’t seen him. I haven’t even apologized.”
Angeline frowned, crossing her arms. “It’s not like you were the only one in the wrong. If he really felt bad, he would’ve come to you too.”
Len, ever the optimist, clapped Aileen on the shoulder with a grin. “Don’t worry, Ail. He’ll come around.” His easy-going warmth coaxed half a smile from her. “Besides, think of what’s ahead of us! You, me, Angeline, and Cain—the mighty magi—”
His sentence was abruptly cut short by a sharp elbow to his ribs, forcing him to suck in a breath.
Angeline shot him an exasperated look. “Len’s right. We should be excited, especially today of all days. And Cain will catch up soon.”
Aileen’s smile faltered. “But he’s never been gone this long…”
She had heard nothing of his wellbeing—another punishment, she suspected, as her father was likely the only one with any news.
Cain wasn’t just another childhood friend. He was a servant of the Lobhdain household, assigned to her side since they were young. A year ago, her father had sent him away on important business. It wasn’t unusual—Cain was always busy, handling tasks for both Lord Lobhdain and the town. Despite his quiet nature, there was a steadfastness to him, a sense of duty he carried with unwavering pride.
Aileen nodded, forcing herself to focus, but she couldn’t shake the ache of wanting him there, standing beside her. He had always been the steady hand in their group, the one who remained calm when everything went awry. Yet she was the only one he had ever let his guard down around, the only one who had seen the depth of his burdens.
And now, as she stood on the precipice of her future, he was nowhere to be found.
A distant, rhythmic clack interrupted her thoughts. A sharp scraping sound against the street’s cobblestones.
At first, it barely registered, lost beneath the hum of the bustling square. But then it came again. Clack. Clack. Clack. Steady. Deliberate. Growing closer.
Her stomach tightened as the sound deepened—a low, thunderous drumbeat of claws against stone. The ground trembled beneath her feet, and murmurs of fascination rippled through the growing crowd.
Angeline narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the source of the sound. "Are those th—"
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Len’s voice boomed over hers, filled with unrestrained excitement.
"The drakes are here!"
They were magnificent creatures, their scales gleaming like polished metal in the sunlight. Covered in intricate, overlapping plates of dark green and bronze, they shimmered with every movement. Sharp ridges ran along their spines, and their long, sinuous necks extended from powerful, muscular bodies, each equipped with a pair of folded wings. Crowning their heads were short, jagged horns, while their glowing amber eyes flicked back and forth, scanning the surroundings with intelligent awareness. Ever watchful, the drakes seemed constantly on guard, ready to protect their precious cargo.
The carriage was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its dark wood polished to a gleaming finish, the gilded edges catching the light as it rolled into the square. Etched into its sides was the emblem of the Guild of Mages—a striking depiction of two entwined drakes, their wings unfurled as if poised for flight. One bore emerald-green scales, shimmering like polished jade, while the other gleamed a deep, cobalt-blue, dark as the ocean’s depths. Their talons gripped the edges of a circular emblem, its surface intricately inscribed with ancient runes—a silent testament to the legacy and power of the institution that awaited them.
As the carriage rolled to a stop before them, Aileen felt her heart quicken. This was what she had been waiting for the last five years, this would take her far from the familiar safety of Valamore and into the unknown. But she wasn’t alone. Len and Angeline stood by her side, and soon, Cain would join them. Together, they would face whatever the future held.
“Shall we?” Len asked, grinning as he opened the carriage door with a dramatic flourish.
Aileen took a deep breath, steadying herself before stepping forward. The journey to the Guild of Mages had begun.
The journey from Valamore to Auron, the capital city of the Empire of Elahra and home to the Guild of Mages, was to take two months—The Guild had meticulously arranged rest points along the way, ensuring the drakes were well-fed and watered, while the potential apprentices could rest in guild-sponsored inns along the way.
These stops allowed them not only to recharge but also to sight-see and explore the many vibrant towns they passed through. Each new town brought its own charm and wonders, and the long journey, which might have been exhausting, turned into a series of discoveries, with Aileen finding herself growing more excited and hopeful with each stop.
The trio had finally made it to the town of Zenith, the final stop before the Guild of Mages. The town itself was situated atop a large hill, its modest structures overlooking a sprawling countryside of farmland. The town was a newly established settlement, still small and growing, but it had a quiet charm to it. The heart of the town was the marketplace, a simple square with a handful of stalls offering local produce, handmade goods, and a few travellers' supplies. Surrounding the market were just a few houses, their thatched roofs barely visible from the winding road that led into town.
At the far end of the marketplace stood the town’s inn, the largest building in the town, which doubled as a tavern for the few traders and travellers passing through. The inn's wooden sign swayed gently in the breeze, proudly displaying the emblem of the Guild of Mages.
The Drakes pulled up to the barn at the inn, their heavy footfalls echoing against the wooden walls. As was customary, someone awaited them, ready to tend to the beasts and provide guidance for the potential apprentices. This time, the trio was greeted by the innkeeper’s son—a scruffy-looking, tanned brown-haired boy of about sixteen. His hair was tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his clothes were a bit too big, hanging loosely on his lanky frame.
He introduced himself with an air of arrogance, his chin lifted as if he were the master of the inn, not merely the son. “Welcome to Zenith, name’s Roy.” he said, his tone half-hearted and uninterested. After the brief introduction, he quickly rattled off instructions on how to check in, barely making eye contact as he gestured toward the inn. His brisk manner left little room for questions, as though he’d done this routine a thousand times and had no interest in pleasantries.
"Thanks, I guess?" Len said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he motioned for Aileen and Angeline to follow him toward the exit of the barn.
“Oh, before I forget...” the boy called after them, a smug edge in his tone that made Aileen bristle. “The Guild doesn’t want you wandering around. You’re to stay in your rooms until you leave.”
“That’s utter bullshit!” Angeline snapped, pacing back toward the boy, her eyes flashing with anger. “How do we know you’re not just making this up?” Her voice was sharp with outrage, as though the boy's words were a deliberate attempt to make their stay as unpleasant as possible.
“Not my problem if you don’t believe me, gorgeous,” Roy replied with a casual shrug, completely unfazed by her fury. His mocking grin only deepened her frustration. “But if you must know, the Guild mentioned something about... oh yeah, bandits using the town as a meetup point? But sure, feel free to think I’m lying. Believe me, I’d actually prefer if you wandered around. I’d enjoy that a lot more.”
Angeline's face went pale, her raging fury quickly giving way to an icy, detached look. Just as she began to raise a fist, Len swiftly grabbed her from behind, lifting her off the ground as she thrashed in protest whilst heading towards the exit. Aileen hurried after them, keeping close. "Let me go, Len! That bastard deserves a good thrashing!" Angeline shouted; her voice sharp with frustration. Aileen had lost count of how many times she'd witnessed this exact scenario—Len always stepping in as the level-headed peacemaker whenever conflict arose. It didn’t help that they could hear the boy laughing as they left the barn.
"Everything we do here gets back to the Guild." Len said calmly as he set her down once they were outside the barn. Angeline whipped around, glaring at him with such intensity that Len recoiled, as though her stare had struck him physically.
"Len’s right." Aileen said, placing a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. "He just doesn’t want you to get into trouble with the Guild. He’s doing this for you."
"Whatever," Angeline muttered, shrugging off Aileen's hand and storming toward the inn without looking back at either of them.
“I’ll probably hear about that for weeks..." Len muttered, his voice tinged with melancholy.
Aileen offered him a soft smile. "You should tell her how you feel, Len. It might... help her understand."
Len's eyes widened in shock, as though she had just unearthed his deepest secret. "How do you know about that?" he asked, incredulous.
Aileen chuckled lightly. "Len, everyone in town knows. Your father and mine even have a bet on how old you'll be when you finally tell her." Her gaze softened with empathy.
Len shot her an accusative glance, eyebrows raised. "You're one to talk, Ail..." he said, before quickly dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. Without another word, he followed Angeline into the inn, leaving a puzzled Aileen behind.
Aileen found herself in a quaint, yet cozy room, the soft glow of a single candle casting gentle shadows on the wooden walls. The air was cool, and after the long day of travel and tension, she craved warmth. She moved over to the small basin in the corner and began to run a bath, the sound of water filling the room offering a momentary distraction from her swirling thoughts.
After they had entered the inn, Angeline had been quick to sort out their check-in, her mood still brittle from the encounter in the barn. She hadn't waited for them and had disappeared into her room without a word. Aileen sighed as she sank into the steaming bath, letting the warmth soothe her muscles.
She couldn’t shake the tension that had lingered in the air since their arrival, nor the awkward silence that had settled between her and Len after their conversation outside. Len, as always, had been the one to lighten the mood when Angeline left. He introduced them both to the elderly woman at the reception desk, a kind, silver-haired innkeeper with tanned skin who had greeted them with a warm smile.
“You are all such polite young travellers,” the old woman had said. "You’re the first apprentices we’ve had from the Guild to ever stay with us."
Len’s usual grin reappeared as he chatted with her. “Well, I’m glad to live up to your expectations!” He’d laughed before suddenly perking up. “Actually, do you mind if I use your oven later? My family runs a bakery, and I promised Aileen I’d bake something special for our trip.”
The woman chuckled, her wrinkled face lighting up. “A baker, are you? Well, I won’t say no to a helping hand in the kitchen. I’d be happy to let you use the oven, but only if you save me a slice.”
Aileen had smiled at the exchange, feeling comforted by Len’s ever-present ability to turn a situation around. But after their conversation outside, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. She knew Len had been hiding his feelings for Angeline for years, and his reluctance to talk about it was only growing heavier on him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to push him, but it was becoming clearer by the day that something had to give between them.
She sighed, sinking deeper into the warm water, her eyes fixed on the flickering candlelight dancing across the walls. The day’s tension had drained her, but her thoughts refused to settle. What would Cain have done? Would he have stepped in and sided with Angeline against the boy? Or would he have calmed everyone down, as he so often did? She missed his steady presence, his quiet guidance... things always seemed clearer when Cain was around.
Aileen reluctantly rose from the bath, wrapping herself in a towel as she padded softly across the room. That’s when she smelled it—the intoxicating aroma of sweet dough mixed with almonds and Acasian honey. She smiled faintly to herself. "Using your trump card, huh, Len?" She muttered, quickly getting dressed.
Aileen made her way downstairs, the faint sound of music and laughter growing louder as she approached the main hall. As she stepped in, she was greeted by a lively scene. The inn’s courtyard was filled with townsfolk and travellers alike, gathered around makeshift stalls and tables, enjoying the evening festivities. Lanterns hung from the wooden beams, casting a warm glow over the crowd, while a small group of musicians played cheerful tunes.
At the far end of the courtyard, Aileen spotted Len standing beside the old innkeeper. He was proudly serving freshly baked almond cakes to eager guests, who were happily handing over one silver coin in exchange for the treats. The smell of sweet dough and roasted almonds wafted through the air, mingling with the lively atmosphere.
Len caught sight of Aileen and waved, grinning widely as he handed another cake to a delighted customer. “One silver each!” he called out to the next in line, who quickly fumbled for a coin. The old woman beside him chuckled, clearly enjoying the success of the impromptu stall.
Aileen approached as Len leaned into the innkeeper with a smile. “You keep the money,” he said quietly, slipping her another batch of cakes from the tray. “Consider it my thanks for letting me use your oven.”
The old woman gave him a grateful nod, her wrinkled face softening. “You’re a good lad, Len,” she said warmly. “These cakes will have my guests talking for weeks.”
Aileen smiled, watching the scene unfold. Despite everything that had happened earlier, seeing Len so effortlessly spread joy made her heart feel lighter.
Out of the corner of her eye, Aileen spotted a familiar figure by the door to the courtyard—Angeline, looking hesitant and remorseful. "Hey, Len," she said, nodding toward Angeline’s direction. "I think someone’s here to apologize."
Len followed her gaze and, without hesitation, ran toward Angeline with cake in hand. He had baked her favourite in the hopes that she’d come downstairs, ready to forgive him for how he had handled the situation earlier. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Angeline accepted the offering with a small smile before pulling him into a tight embrace.
Aileen watched the scene unfold, admiring Len’s tactful approach. She couldn’t help but wonder if Len was, maybe...just maybe, quite the catch for someone who valued a man with both a playful heart and a knack for making things right.
“Oh! Hold on," Len said, dashing to the kitchen. He returned moments later with a cake in hand and handed it to the old innkeeper. “Please, give this to the boy in the barn... I’d hate for him to miss out on trying some."
“Why, thank you my dear boy. I’m sure my grandson will love to try it,” the innkeeper replied with a warm smile before leaving for the barn.
Angeline leaned into Len with a playful grin. “So, what did you put in it?”
Len smirked. “I might have added some laxatives.”
Angeline’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she smirked. “My knight in shining armour…” she drawled, her voice teasing, each word dripping with playful flirtation.
Len and Angeline remained close throughout the night, their earlier tension forgotten as they exchanged playful banter, their connection growing stronger with every passing joke and shared smile.
As the night wound down, Aileen felt the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. She exchanged goodnights with Len and Angeline before retreating to her room, where the warmth of her earlier bath still lingered in the air. She drifted off to sleep to the faint sounds of laughter and music from the courtyard below, her thoughts finally at peace.
The next morning, Aileen woke to the quiet bustle of the inn as the early risers prepared for the day. She stretched and dressed quickly, eager to begin the final leg of their journey. When she made her way downstairs, she found the old innkeeper outside with the drakes, tending to them herself instead of her grandson.
“Where’s Roy?” Len asked as he and Angeline joined Aileen in the courtyard, the smell of breakfast still on their clothes.
The old woman chuckled softly, shaking her head. “That boy of mine’s taken ill, and I haven’t the faintest idea why. Probably something he ate.” She gave them a knowing smile. “But don’t worry, the drakes are in good hands. We’ll have you off to Auron soon enough.”
Aileen exchanged a glance with Len, whose smirk was barely contained. Angeline elbowed him playfully, and the three of them loaded up their belongings onto the carriage, thanking the old woman for her hospitality before setting off.
The following days in the drake-drawn carriage passed with ease, filled with light-hearted conversation and the warmth of friendship. Aileen couldn’t help but notice the subtle change in the dynamic between Len and Angeline. They weren’t quite a couple, but the way they shared private smiles and leaned closer in conversation suggested that they were at least heading in the right direction. Aileen was happy for them, watching as their bond strengthened with each mile they travelled.
As the landscape shifted from rolling hills to the towering spires of Auron, the capital city, the trio’s excitement grew. The streets bustled with life, the architecture grew more elaborate, and an unmistakable energy pulsed through the air. Unlike Valamore—where magic was rare and those who possessed it kept their abilities discreet—Auron thrived on it. Here, magic was woven into everyday life.
Angeline watched in fascination as mages transmuted stone into bricks, seamlessly assisting builders in their work. Nearby, a pair of water and air mages delighted a group of children—one conjuring delicate bird from water, while the other sent a playful breeze beneath them, making them dance as if truly alive. Further down the street, a fire mage knelt beside a merchant’s stall, shaping molten glass from sand to replace a shattered shop window.
It was a world unlike anything they had known—a city where magic wasn’t hidden but celebrated, shaping every facet of life.
As the carriage prepared to depart from the square, a group of children ran up to it, waving eagerly at the arriving apprentices and welcoming them to Auron. Unable to resist, the trio leaned out of the carriage, returning the excited gestures with broad smiles and enthusiastic waves.
The journey through the city felt like navigating a labyrinth—at least, that was how it seemed to Aileen. The carriage wound through Auron’s maze-like inner streets, past towering buildings and bustling marketplaces, until finally, it came to a halt before the Guild’s gates.
The sight before them stole their breath. Towering above everything in sight, the gates were a masterpiece of ancient craftsmanship, rising twice as high as any structure in the city. Forged from deep black stone, they were adorned with intricate swirling patterns that seemed to shift ever so slightly, as if alive with magic.
Aileen recalled reading how ancient wizards had enchanted the very stones used to build the Guild, fortifying them with powerful spells. After all, the Guild wasn’t just a place of learning—it was also designed to serve as a last line of defence for the king and the citizens of Auron in the event of a threat.
A deep groan echoed from the gates as they slowly began to open. This was the moment they had been waiting for. The trio leaned forward, hearts pounding with anticipation, as they watched the massive gate's part before them. With wide eyes and bated breath, they peered into the unknown, ready to step into their future.