Professor Iakopo's personal cabin was nothing like Talia had imagined.

The small room was surprisingly austere, with polished wooden walls and a single porthole that cast a circle of sunlight onto the floor.

There wasn't a bottle of rum in sight, nor any of the clutter she'd imagined would keep the seemingly disheveled instructor company.

Given how insidious the man appeared to be, Talia wondered if he had presented himself so ridiculously on purpose to confuse the students.

His space was so clinically neat that he had either suffered from a split-personality ailment or he was a very complex and very deceiving man.

She looked at a narrow bunk tucked against the wall; its blanket pulled taut without a single wrinkle. Beside it rested a small bookshelf with several leather-bound tomes.

To top it off, there was a small incense holder on a shelf that granted the room a temple-like atmosphere.

The only break in this orderly environment was the Professor’s desk.

It stood in stark contrast to the rest of the cabin.

On it, there was a sprawl of papers, charts, and weird objects. Star charts and nautical maps spilled across the table’s surface, held down by an assortment of paperweights – smooth stones, seashells, and what looked like a tiny model of the Kraken carved from driftwood. A half-melted candle stood over the mess, its wax forming abstract patterns on the wood beneath.

It was in such a contrast to the rest that Talia’s eyebrows jumped at the sight.

As Talia's eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, she noticed something that gave her pause.

A well-worn cutlass hung on the wall, its blade gleaming dully in the filtered sunlight.

Beneath it, a small portrait in an ornate frame caught her attention.

It showed a much younger Iakopo standing beside a woman with striking white hair – a woman Talia recognized instantly.

Her mother.

“We knew each other quite well,” the Professor said, taking a seat at his desk and taking the small portrait into his hand, observing it for a few seconds, and then handing it to Talia.

Talia took the portrait and studied the image of her mother.

Yalena looked so young, her white hair flowing freely in the sea breeze.

“She was an exceptional Water Rider,” Professor Iakopo said, his voice tinged with an emotion Talia couldn't quite place. “Brilliant, powerful, and utterly fearless. But also...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Also?” Talia prompted, unable to contain her curiosity.

Iakopo's eyes met hers, and, for a moment, there was a twisted, malicious twinkle in his eyes.

“Reckless. Stubborn. Many good Water Riders and other innocents got killed because of her ways. I know you probably think your mother was a hero, the famous Hākai Pō, the Kraken Slayer. Who wouldn’t love her, right?”

Talia maintained her calm, immediately aware of where this was going but not willing to give the man the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

“I actually know that many people thought my mother was wrong, Professor.”

“Do you? And what do you think of those people?”

The man actually frowned, scratching the scar on his face lazily.

“Losers,” Talia smiled widely. “They’re losers who cannot accept that my mother inflicted such grievous wounds on the Kraken that no other Kraken Slayer could ever compare—not even the ones from the Great Families. In fact, sixteen years have passed, and the Scourge of the Deep is nowhere to be seen, is it? How long was the longest we had gone without the Kraken, Professor?”

The man stopped touching his face, his expression hardening.

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“Arrogance must run in the family,” the man said with a scornful expression.

“It must,” Talia replied, crossing her arms.

The Professor studied her for a few more moments, extending a hand and taking the portrait of her mother and him back.

“You have heard the voices, but you don’t think your mother could have possibly done anything wrong, do you?” Iakopo shook his head. “How I wish I was you, child.”

“Have you called me in here to insult me and my mother?” Talia asked.

“No,” the Professor sighed, “I’m here to tell you that you should drop out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Do I speak like an Abyssal Creature?” The man spoke with sarcasm. “You’ll find that I almost did you the greatest favor of your life. The Academy is not a place for you.”

Talia stared at him with disdain.

“Do you understand?”

“No.”

She expected the Professor to say something, but he only laughed to himself.

“Whatever. You will see. Those who want to graduate the first year must pass my Mana Control Class – it is the hardest class of the first year.”

“Will you just fail me upfront?” Talia asked.

She didn’t bother arguing whether it would be unfair or not.

This man clearly did not care one bit about fairness.

“I won’t need to. Your Primary Water Channel is clearly weak. You have a decent Secondary Affinity, but as things stand, you would need to drain ten times your blood to generate a Mana Board with your Blood Affinity. Below Level Three, no Primary Water Channel is strong enough to properly control and learn the [Mana Board] skill. Level Three is the bare minimum to even hope to pass my Class.”

Talia started laughing at that, at this man, and at his stupid pettiness.

“Is that it? Level Three?” She got up. “Professor, I am going to be the next Hākai Pō. I will be stronger than my mother even – much stronger. This?” She gestured around the room. “This is nothing.”

That said, Talia left the room.

But instead of getting mad, a smirk appeared on the Professor’s face. He looked at the picture of Yalena again, touched the scar on his face, and muttered to himself.

“Arrogant like her father, isn’t she?”

***

A few days later, as the galleon cut through the azure waves, the recruits lined the deck, their eyes fixed on the horizon.

Talia gripped the railing, her knuckles white.

She had been waiting for this moment her entire life.

Beside her, Fiora stood tall, her chin lifted with pride, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

“There it is,” Takai's quiet voice cut through the excited murmurs of the other recruits.

He pointed at a shimmering mirage in the distance.

As they drew closer, the mirage solidified into a breathtaking sight.

A massive lagoon stretched before them, its waters colored of a bright shade of turquoise.

But it was what rose from the center of the lagoon that drew gasps from even the most stoic among them.

The Spire.

It pierced the sky like a challenge to the heavens themselves.

A colossal tower that seemed to be made of water, frozen in a perpetual upward flow.

The magic that held it together apparently included a spell that drew water from the lagoon and let it flow in a spiral-like motion across its surface—hence the name.

“By the Deep,” Fiora whispered. “It's... magnificent.”

Talia nodded, speechless.

The Spire was the most famous structure of the Academy by far.

It had been created so long ago that no one could really date it. It housed Elders and, most importantly, the Principal, the strongest man in the world.

Talia didn’t know much more about it other than that some of its floors were used for advanced classes and that the Spire also extended underground and underwater.

It was the most mysterious place in the world.

“Look there!” someone shouted.

All eyes turned to see some figures moving through the air.

Although a lesser-known fact among the inhabitants of the Southern Archipelago, high-level Water Riders could fly.

It was all thanks to an evolution of the [Mana Board] Skill.

Talia gritted her teeth thinking of the skill and the Professor that would be teaching it to her.

The central lagoon opened into a network of canals that wound their way through a complex of smaller islands and structures that surrounded the Spire.

Many bridges arched over the waterways, their designs ranging from practical stone ones to some that seemed made of soft, pinkish coral.

The air hummed with energy that made Talia's wrists tingle.

She could feel the immense concentration of Mana that saturated the place, finally understanding why the Academy was considered the heart of water magic in the world.

Most importantly, she kept feeling her wrist marks tingle, which made her heart skip a beat.

Takai leaned over the railing, his eyes wide with wonder.

“It's like a city and the ocean had a baby,” he murmured, earning a snort from Fiora.

As they approached what appeared to be the main harbor, Talia's gaze was drawn back to the Spire.

From this angle, she could see how it served as the anchor point for the whole Academy.

All the canals and structures seemed to radiate outward from its base.

Suddenly, Shaker's gruff voice cut through their awe-struck silence.

“Alright, you barnacle-brained lot! Get yourselves ready!” He strode down the deck, his scarred face set in its usual scowl. “Today's the big day when all the recruits from around the Four Seas pour in! For those of you that are already Initiated: you'll be taking your aptitude test alongside 'em other idiots who couldn’t wait for the Water Riders to do it, so don’t go dilly-dallying around and forgetting about it, embarrassing yourselves – or me!”

Talia exchanged a few glances with Fiora and Takai.

The aptitude test.

Dammit, this is it, Talia swore internally.

She hadn’t yet reached Level Two, and the moment they tested her, given that she had Initiated herself, she would fail to keep the globe of water over her hand for more than ten seconds, it didn’t mean she could just…

“Don’t think about it,” Fiora said from the side, patting her shoulder. “You’ll be alright.”

“Yeah,” Takai said much more uncertainly. “I’m sure that they, huh, let… err… awesome people in.”

Fiora incinerated him with a stare, and Talia sighed.

“It’s okay. It’ll be fine,” Talia lied to herself and to her friends.