24th Vaelion Emberwyn 2004
The sun began its descent behind the towering walls of the academy, casting a mixture of golden-orange light over the courtyard.
Shadows stretched, both long and shallow, where the light of the sun couldn’t reach, as if the building exhaled after a long day of work.
There was only a day left until the entrance exam began.
Most of the recomnded students had arrived and had been assigned to their dormitories. Groups of first-years were cluttered along campus, navigating the halls.
So of the later arrivals, dragged heavy suitcases — those who were of nobility who couldn’t live without the lavish lifestyle they had.
Elena wasn’t at the dormitory, she stood alone waiting at the reception. Her eyes constantly scanned the gate, waiting for his arrival.
Why?
Because tomorrow was when the exams would begin and there was still no sign of him.
She turned to the reception, where a pair of staff mages scrubbed nas, conjured dorm slips and keys, directing students with practiced ease.
"Excuse ," Elena asked softly. "Has anyone else co through recently? Specifically... a boy, not too tall, black hair, quiet?"
The older mage didn’t even look up as he waved a hand over a scroll. "We’ve had at least fifty co through in the last few hours, miss. That describes half of them."
Her heart sank a little.
The younger clerk, a girl no older than twenty, looked at Elena from her floating stack of parchnt. "What’s his na?" she asked kindly.
"Vergil."
Their eyes glowed a blue hue, and a stack of parchnt behind them was surrounded in blue.
"No such na on the entry manifest," the older one muttered.
’Maybe he entered under a different na,’ Elena assured herself, wanting to say he was safe. "Maybe he’s just late.’
The older mage gave a gentle shake of her head, their eye colour returning to normal. "If he’s ant to take the entrance exam. He needs to be here by 10am tomorrow."
"And there’s no exceptions." The younger one added.
Elena bowed politely, backing away from the desk, moving in the direction of the courtyard.
She lingered near a bronze fountain outside of her dorm. A group of female students gossiped close by.
"Did you hear that Kieran is attending?"
"Really? Then we at least know who’s at the top."
But Elena wasn’t listening. She glanced towards the descending colours emitted from the sun and once more in the direction of the gate.
Where are you?
Behind her, slow and asured steps were taken in her direction.
Elena turned to see her standing beneath a lamppost, her clothes fluttered with the breeze. To Elena, Eleanor didn’t walk like others. She moved like soone used to higher society.
"No," Elena sighed. "I asked three tis this week. They don’t have his na recorded."
"Maybe he’s under a different na."
Eleanor approached, sitting beside the fountain before crossing one leg over the other. "You’re letting it get to your head."
Elena gazed at the fountain. "I know," she admitted. "But I want to believe he will keep his promise."
"Promises are like illusions, Elena. Pretty and comforting, yet so easy to break in the wrong hands."
Elena lowered herself onto the stone rim of the fountain beside her. The sound of students vanished, but the cascading sound of water remained.
"I’m not worried about the exam," Elena said eventually. "I’m worried about him."
Eleanor gazed at the sky, the sun had finally descended and the first stars began to blink into existence.
"If sothing did, we’ll find out tommorow." She paused. "But I doubt it."
"You believe in him?" Elena looked at her.
"I don’t believe in many things," Eleanor said flatly. "He may not have talent, but he has what people call ’drive’."
The two sat in silence under the shade of night. Their figures lightened by the flickering of lights in the lampposts. The clock tower chid faintly with each tick of ti.
"Co." Eleanor stood. "Let’s eat, sitting out here all night won’t bring him faster."
Elena looked once more then nodded, standing up to walk with Eleanor to the east wing.
You’re coming, right? You said you would...
-----
The Next Morning. 25th Ignaril Emberwyn 2004
"Shit, shit, shit. I’ve been running forever."
The sound of boots clashing against dirt echoed through the forest.
Vergil was running. And for one reason only.
He was late.
Sweat clung to his shirt, damp with a foul sll. He had washed his shirt the previous day only for it to be ruined once more. He was tired but he didn’t care.
Not when the towering silhouette of the academy lood over him.
Four spiraling towers reached for the sky like ancient spires carved from moonlight. Magical barrier effect shimred faintly over the pristine walls aged by ti.
It reminded Vergil of a cringe and cliche saying.
A place where heroes ca from. Legends are born here.
["Blowfish, you gotta keep running. You’ve only got a few hours left... or else."]
The chanical voice rang in a smooth and sardonic voice in his head. A little too amused given the situation they were in.
"Or else what?" Vergil snapped, between his ragged breath. His hair had turned back to being wild and loose. "You’re not threatening are you?"
["It’s worse. No cake, blowfish."]
Vergil groaned. "Seriously threatening with no cake?"
["Don’t underestimate your dessert-based motivation. Besides, you need to celebrate your birthday?"]
Deep down, Vergil really wanted to celebrate his birthday.
He sighed reluctantly. "I know, and for that, I’ve spent the last two hours jogging."
["That’s what you get for sleeping through the night."]
"You could’ve woken up," he muttered.
["I tried. And you didn’t, so beat it.]
Vergil grit his teeth; forcing his body to push itself. His muscles scread as the gates of the academy were right in front of him.
He huffed and took his last step before admiring the gates in front of him.
Massive. Arched and engraved with shimring blue runes. And beyond it was the school life he wanted to have.
"Right..." he muttered, digging his hand into his inventory, pulling out the recomndation letter.
Elvira’s signature still glowed faintly at the bottom. One from the forr vice-principal.
[You ready?]
Vergil didn’t answer imdiately.
"With Elena’s personality... I’m betting she’s pacing sowhere right now, worrying I got myself killed."
[Well, she wouldn’t be wrong.]
[After all.]
[You’ve died over a hundred thousand tis.]
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