Morning mist rolled slowly over the fields of Ravenglen.

  The village was quiet this early, with only a few signs of life beginning to stir. A farmer pushed open a barn door. Somewhere in the distance, a rooster crowed with far too much enthusiasm.

  But the loudest sound came from the village forge.

  Clang.

  Clang.

  Clang.

  Kael Arden leaned against the wooden fence outside the blacksmith shop, watching sparks fly through the open doorway.

  At fifteen, Kael was lean, but strongly built, and a little taller than most boys his age, with dark hair that never seemed to stay in place and clear blue eyes that always looked like they were studying the world around him. His clothes were simple travel wear—nothing like the noble robes worn by the students he imagined would be waiting for him at the academy

  His father worked the forge like a machine that had never learned how to stop. The hammer rose and fell in steady rhythm, shaping glowing steel against the anvil.

  Kael had grown up listening to that sound.

  Clang.

  Clang.

  Clang.

  It was the sound of Ravenglen.

  And today, for the first time in his life, he would be leaving it.

  Kael adjusted the strap of the small travel bag over his shoulder. It wasn’t much—some food, a change of clothes, and a few supplies his mother insisted he take.

  Apparently, prestigious magic academies did not guarantee good cooking.

  “Standing around like that won’t make the road shorter.”

  Kael looked up as his father stepped out of the forge, wiping soot from his hands with a rag.

  Darius Arden was a large man with broad shoulders and the kind of strength that came from decades of lifting metal and swinging hammers. His beard was flecked with gray from the forge dust, and his arms were covered in burn marks earned the hard way.

  He glanced at Kael’s bag.

  “You pack everything?”

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  Kael nodded.

  “Mom packed enough food for an army.”

  “That sounds like her.”

  Darius crossed his arms and studied him for a moment.

  “You nervous?”

  Kael considered the question.

  “A little.”

  “That’s good.”

  Kael blinked

  “Good?”

  “If you weren’t nervous about leaving home to attend the most prestigious magic academy in the kingdom, I’d be worried.”

  Kael sighed.

  “You’re not helping.”

  His father chuckled.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  A moment of quiet passed between them.

  Then Darius gestured toward the road leading out of the village.

  “You know most students at that academy come from noble mage families.”

  “I heard.”

  “And you’ve got one spell.”

  “I’ve heard that too.”

  Darius nodded slowly.

  “Then it sounds like you’re already used to people underestimating you.”

  Kael opened his mouth to reply—

  —but the door to the house opened behind them.

  His mother stepped outside.

  Elena Arden carried a small wrapped bundle in her arms and the calm expression of someone who had spent years tending to injuries and calming frightened villagers.

  “Before either of you start arguing again,” she said gently, “Kael still needs this.”

  She handed him the bundle.

  Kael unwrapped the cloth to reveal several pieces of bread, dried fruit, and a small pouch filled with herbs.

  “You packed herbs?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “I’m going to a magic academy.”

  “And if you trip on the road and scrape your knee, those herbs will still help.”

  Kael laughed quietly.

  His mother studied him for a moment.

  “Kael.”

  He looked up.

  Her voice softened slightly.

  “Magic isn’t about proving you’re stronger than everyone else.”

  He had heard this speech before.

  Many times.

  “It’s about what you choose to protect.”

  He nodded.

  “I remember.”

  She smiled.

  Darius stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Kael’s shoulder.

  “Talent gets attention,” his father said. “But persistence gets results.”

  Kael looked down the dirt road leading out of Ravenglen.

  The hills beyond the village were covered in morning fog. Somewhere past those hills stood Aetherion Magic Academy.

  A place filled with powerful mages.

  Students with dozens of spells.

  Students who had probably been training for years.

  Kael had one spell.

  Just one.

  And it wasn’t even a particularly impressive one.

  He took a breath.

  “Well,” he said, adjusting his bag, “no point standing around forever.”

  His mother gently nudged him forward.

  “Go before your father gives another lecture.”

  “I heard that,” Darius muttered.

  Kael walked a few steps down the road before stopping.

  He turned back.

  His parents stood together near the forge, watching him.

  The village looked smaller somehow.

  But also warmer.

  He raised a hand in farewell.

  Then he turned toward the road.

  And began walking.

  Days later, the quiet countryside gave way to something far less peaceful.

  The gates of Aetherion Magic Academy towered over the road like a fortress.

  Students gathered outside the entrance in small groups, wearing elegant travel clothes and carrying ornate staves or spellbooks.

  Many of them were clearly nobles.

  Kael glanced down at his simple clothes and travel bag.

  “Well,” he muttered to himself.

  “This should go well.”

  A group of students nearby were discussing their spell counts.

  “I mastered six spells before arriving,” one said proudly.

  “Only six?” another replied. “I learned eight.”

  Kael stared at the ground for a moment.

  Then sighed.

  “…I should’ve stayed at the forge.”

  He stepped forward toward the academy gates anyway.

  Because turning around now would be worse.

  Much worse.

  And besides…

  He still had one spell.

  Even if it wasn’t much.