The morning mist clung to the earth like a veil as Zen stepped onto the road leading away from the forest he had trained in for years. The crisp air held the scent of pine, and the song of distant birds was interrupted only by the soft thuds of his boots. Kael had stood silently at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and gaze distant.
"You're ready now," Kael had said, his voice deep and rough. "The Eboncrest Arcanist's Academy… it's in Grandovale. Biggest nation in the west. It's not going to be easy, Zen. They don't accept commoners. Magic, swordsmanship all of it is for nobles. The tuition, the tests... everything's steep."
Zen's calm expression didn't falter. "I still want to try."
Kael had paused, sighed, then handed Zen a leather pouch. "Fine. Head west. It'll take you two weeks if you don't get sidetracked. Let me know when you're ready."
Zen simply nodded. The following morning, he left. Ten years old now, he was no longer the frightened boy who once lived in a forest cave. His eyes held quiet determination, his sword strapped to his back. He wasn't just seeking power—he was seeking a future.
---
Three days into the journey, Zen found himself in a narrow valley road. The cliffs on both sides loomed high and jagged, and the silence was eerie.
Then—shouts.
Ahead, a wagon had been stopped. A group of bandits, clad in rough leathers and carrying makeshift weapons, had surrounded two young travelers - a boy with short black hair, and a girl with a bright ponytail and curious eyes.
Zen's pace didn't slow. He drew his sword without a word and stepped in.
"Who's this brat?" one of the bandits jeered.
Zen's eyes narrowed.
In one fluid motion, Zen dashed forward, using the terrain to his advantage. With swift, precise strikes, he disarmed the first bandit, then ducked a blow and swept the legs of another. A third tried to strike from behind, but Zen rolled aside and struck the man's knee, forcing him down. One by one, the bandits fell not with fatal wounds, but with enough pain to leave them defeated and scrambling.
When the last of them fled, the two travelers stared.
"That was… awesome!" the girl shouted.
Zen sheathed his sword and nodded politely. "Are you hurt?"
"Nope!" she chirped, dusting off her tunic. "Thanks to you! I'm Lyrielle Caelivara, you can call me Lyra, by the way . This lump here is my brother, Kien."
Kien, still wide-eyed, nodded. "You're good with a sword. What's your name?"
"Zen."
"Where're you headed, Zen?" Lyra asked, tilting her head curiously.
Zen hesitated for a moment, then answered, "Grandovale. Eboncrest Arcanist's Academy."
Lyra blinked, then grinned. "The Eboncrest Academy? Pfft! You aiming high, huh? Ready for the impossible?"
Zen gave a faint smile. "Maybe."
Lyra playfully bit her tongue and gave him a mock salute. "Well, that's brave. I like brave."
Her tone was light, cheerful, and there was a certain sparkle in her gaze whenever she looked at Zen. Kien rolled his eyes but said nothing.
They decided to travel together. Along the way, Lyra bombarded Zen with questions, stories, and laughter, often skipping ahead or mimicking sword swings with a stick. Zen, though quiet, didn't seem to mind. He listened, and sometimes—just sometimes—he smiled. But he never laughed.
One night, they camped beneath a starlit sky. Lyra roasted skewered mushrooms while humming. "You really never laugh, huh? What if I told you I once tried to ride a goat and fell into a pigpen?"
Zen blinked. "Did you?"
"Yup! And I had to go to town smelling like pig poop."
Zen smiled softly.
"There it is! A smile!" she pointed. "Progress. One day I'll get a laugh."
They shared stories, warm meals, and the comfort of companionship. The journey was long, but with Lyra's light spirit and Zen's quiet resolve, the road to Grandovale felt less heavy.
And as the walls of the great city finally came into view over the horizon, shining in gold and stone, Zen's gaze remained fixed. Not in awe-but in readiness.
Eboncrest waited. And so did destiny.