In front of the small house, Regulus's mother stood with a wide smile on her face.
She was a beautiful woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, though the subtle shadows beneath her eyes hinted at hardships that had aged her spirit if not her face.
Her hair was pure white, cascading down her shoulders in gentle waves, and her gray eyes—identical to her son's—sparkled with love as she spotted him running toward her.
'So he got that from his mom,' Arthur thought, noting the matching eyes.
The woman, seeing him approach, imdiately ran to et him halfway, arms outstretched. They collided in a fierce embrace, her slender fra enveloping her son as if to shield him from the world.
"Regulus!" she exclaid, holding him tight.
From her anxious posture, Arthur could tell she had been waiting for hours, perhaps pacing the garden path, watching the road for his return.
"I made it, Mom!" Regulus's voice was muffled against her dress, but his excitent was unmistakable. He pulled back, thrusting the scroll toward her. "I got into the Academy!"
Arthur watched as a complex wave of emotions washed across the mother's face—emotions that Regulus, in his excitent, couldn't see. Pride and happiness shone in her eyes, yes, but behind them lurked grief, sadness, and worry. The kind of worry that cos from knowing your child is stepping into a world that had once chewed you up and spat you out.
"Oh, my brilliant boy," she whispered, brushing a strand of silver hair from his forehead. "I never doubted you would."
Her hands trembled slightly as she took the scroll, careful not to tear the important docunt. "Your father would be so proud."
At the ntion of his father, Regulus's smile dimd just slightly. "I'm going to beco the greatest mage the Academy has ever seen," he declared. "I'll restore our family's honor."
His mother's facade cracked montarily, revealing a deeper pain. "Regulus, our honor was never lost. What happened to your father—"
"Was injustice," the boy finished, his childish face suddenly hardening. "And I'll make it right."
She knelt before him, taking his small hands in hers. "Listen to , Regulus. The Academy... it's not just about learning magic. It's about politics, influence, old families protecting their interests."
"I know," he said, with a certainty no child should possess.
"They'll try to break you."
Regulus's chin lifted in defiance. "They can try."
The woman closed her eyes briefly, as if offering a silent prayer. When she opened them again, her resolve matched her son's. "Then we have preparations to make." She stood, still holding his hand. "You'll need proper robes, books..."
"We can't afford—"
"Leave that to ," she cut him off gently. "I've been saving. And there are... resources... I haven't tapped yet."
Arthur noticed how she unconsciously touched a simple silver necklace at her throat as she said it.
"Perhaps a family heirloom?" Arthur muttered.
As mother and son walked hand-in-hand toward the house, Arthur could see the importance of this mont etched in their postures.
For Regulus, it was a triumph, the first step toward his ambitions. For his mother, it was watching her child step onto a battlefield.
The scene began to shimr, preparing to shift once more. Colors bled into one another, the garden dissolving like watercolors in rain.
When the world reford around Arthur, Regulus stood before him, dramatically changed. No longer a child of ten or eleven, he appeared to be around fourteen now—still young, but with the sharpened features of adolescence beginning to define his face. His silver hair was longer, tied back in a scholar's knot, and his once-simple clothing had been replaced with Academy robes of deepest blue trimd with silver.
He stood upon an elevated podium in what Arthur recognized as the Grand Hall of the Academy of ra—though it looked sowhat different from the one he knew.
Beside Regulus stood a tall, imposing figure with a magnificent white beard. A dallion glead on his chest—the symbol of the Academy Headmaster.
"Isn't that the Headmaster of the Academy of ra?" Arthur muttered as he watched the scene unfold.
The Headmaster raised his hands, and the hall fell silent. His voice carried effortlessly to every corner without magical enhancent.
"Today, we celebrate an achievent unprecedented in the history of our Academy," the Headmaster declared, his hand coming to rest on Regulus's shoulder. "Never before has a first-year student not only mastered the entire standard curriculum, but gone on to create original magical theory that has left our most seasoned Magisters in awe."
Murmurs swept through the crowd. So faces showed pride, others disbelief, and more than a few displayed barely concealed envy.
"Regulus Silverwind has demonstrated that true genius knows no bounds—not of age, not of background, and certainly not of the artificial limitations we sotis place upon ourselves."
The Headmaster turned to face Regulus directly now, a genuine smile warming his severe features. The tall man's eyes glead with undisguised pride as he gestured for silence from the murmuring crowd.
"It is therefore my great honor to present you, Regulus Silverwind, with the rewards befitting your remarkable achievents," he announced, his voice resonating throughout the hall. "Not only have you claid the position of Rank 1 student through your unparalleled academic and combat excellence, but you have proven your martial and magical prowess by erging victorious in the Academy's Grand Tournant."
The announcent sent another wave of whispers through the assembly. Even those who had resented the young prodigy's academic success couldn't deny the legitimacy of the victory earned through combat.
"With this triumph," the Headmaster continued, "you have silenced any who might question your rightful place among the Academy's greatest talents."
An attendant stepped forward, carrying a cushion upon which rested the rewards.
"With this honor cos the traditional reward: one thousand gold coins from the Academy treasury, your choice of an Epic-ranked skill from our restricted archives, and—" the Headmaster paused for effect, "—access to the Hidden Realm of the Academy."
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