The night was deep and quiet by the time Alden reached home, but the warm golden glow from the porch light of the small cottage was still burning. There, seated in his usual spot, was his grandfather, Rowan, half-asleep with his cane resting against the wall and a knitted blanket draped over his knees. Despite the late hour, Rowan had refused to go to bed without hearing about the results.
Alden stepped onto the porch with quiet urgency, dropping his bag and embracing the old man tightly. The sudden movement startled Rowan awake, but when he realized it was Alden, his weary eyes sparkled with relief.
"So?" he asked, voice hoarse with age and anticipation.
"Third. I ranked third, Grandpa," Alden said, barely able to hold back the grin curling on his lips.
Rowan chuckled softly, a sound mixed with pride and exhaustion. "Years of hard work finally paid off, didn't they?"
Alden nodded. "Yes, it did. By the end of the month, I'll receive the admission letter."
"Enough talk for now," Rowan said, rising slowly. "Come, I made your favorite—roasted chicken."
Dinner that night felt more like a feast. The modest wooden table was set with simple dishes, but the food was rich with flavor and memory. They laughed, shared stories of the examination, and let themselves bask in the warmth of a long-awaited success. For a few moments, the harsh world outside their small home didn't matter.
That night, Alden slept like a stone.
Morning sunlight filtered through the window when Rowan awoke. As he sat up in bed, he heard the rhythmic sound of metal slicing air. He moved toward the window and, with a soft smile, saw Alden in the backyard, shirt damp with sweat, sword in hand.
He was practicing.
Alden's form was sharp. With each swing, he tried to coat his blade in aether, but the glow flickered in and out of existence. The effort was there, the progress slow but steady. Rowan, moved by pride, shuffled into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The aroma of eggs, toast, and herbal tea soon filled the house.
When Rowan called out, Alden returned inside, towel draped over his shoulder. They ate together, sharing small talk until Rowan leaned in with a more serious tone.
"Alden, now that you'll be joining the Royal Academy, things will change. You need to be careful. You must learn about your mysterious power. If what you say about the circle in your mind is true, then there is no better place to search for answers than the Academy's Grand Library. Rumor says it holds texts from before the Great War."
Alden listened intently, nodding between bites.
"I will be cautious. I promise."
"And don't just focus on strength. Manage your academics too. Balance is key," Rowan added, ever the sage.
"Before I leave," Alden said, his eyes gleaming, "I want to coat my sword with aether. Not just briefly, but hold it. Wield it properly."
Rowan chuckled, tapping his cane. "You've achieved your first circle and can conjure basic spells. With discipline, you'll manage it within a month. Let's start training today."
Days turned into weeks. The peaceful rhythm of life at home was replaced by an intense training schedule. Mornings were dedicated to aether control. Rowan would guide Alden through breathing exercises, aura stabilization, and concentration drills. At first, Alden could only channel aether onto the blade for a second or two before it fizzled. But slowly, that second became five. Then ten.
Afternoons were for academic learning. Using borrowed books from the nearby town, Alden buried himself in theories of magical history, potion brewing, and the lore of ancient civilizations. The strange circle in his mind—the one formed during the second examination—acted like a catalyst. Concepts that would confuse others came to him naturally. His ability to retain and recall knowledge was accelerating.
Evenings were meant for combat technique and swordsmanship. Rowan, once a soldier, still possessed the spirit and knowledge of war. Though old, he demonstrated forms and battle stances with surprising agility. They sparred often, and Alden practiced relentlessly, learning how to shift his stance, anticipate movements, and deliver strikes with purpose.
Initially, he also dedicated time to the mysterious power from the second examination—what he called the "Black Angel" state. But repeated efforts showed no progress. Whatever that ability was, it only awakened during moments of desperation. Alden eventually stopped forcing it and shifted his focus back to more tangible growth.
And then, one ordinary morning, the postman arrived.
"A letter for Alden," he said with a knowing smile.
Alden tore it open at the table, Rowan leaning over his shoulder.
Dear Alden,
You have been accepted as one of the four chosen students from the Bloodridge region to attend the Royal Academy of the Ironhold Kingdom. You are expected to report to the academy gates on the 28th of March, 218, for commencement of academic duties.
Please refer to the enclosed brochure for travel arrangements and code of conduct.
We welcome you to the future of greatness.
Alden read it twice, then passed it to Rowan, who read it just as eagerly. There was no grand celebration. Just a quiet nod from Rowan and a firm clasp of hands. For both of them, it was everything.
The three months before departure were the most intense of Alden's life. He doubled his efforts, waking up earlier and sleeping later. His aether control improved to the point where he could coat his blade for nearly a full minute. He practiced silent movement, refined his footwork, and even experimented with enchantments.
Rowan occasionally brought visiting friends and old soldiers from the village to spar with Alden, helping him adapt to varied fighting styles. His confidence grew not just from strength but from knowledge—knowledge hard-earned in quiet hours and sweat-drenched fields.
By the start of March, Alden had changed. His body was leaner, his posture upright, and his eyes carried a clarity rarely seen in someone his age.
The morning before his departure, he stood at the hilltop behind their cottage, looking at the valley below. Rowan joined him, leaning on his cane.
"The world awaits you now," he said.
Alden turned to him, determined. "And I'm ready for it."
For a brief moment, silence fell over them, carried by the wind. It wasn't the end of something. It was the beginning.
The academy awaited.