They had arrived.
Zolon.
The gates towered above them—arched stone, timeworn but proud.As the wagon rolled beneath, Froy glanced up at the ancient carvings, weathered by rain and centuries.He felt small.But not in a bad way.
Beyond lay a city that pulsed with life.
Winding streets. Crowded markets.Laughter drifting from balconies. Bells ringing in the distance.
And the people—so many kinds.Elves. Dwarves. Beastkin. Winged folk.All moving together like currents in a single sea.
Zolon didn't look like a city.It looked like possibility.
Owen drove them through with steady hands.By the time the sun had settled just above the rooftops, he had already found it—A tavern.Not grand, but solid. Strong bones. Good location.Enough space for cooking, sleeping, and dreaming.
"This'll do," he said simply. "It's not perfect. But we'll make it ours."
He turned to Emily."Take the kids inside. I'll handle the stables."
Emily nodded, gathering Amie and Froy close.They walked to the wooden steps and paused at the doorway.
The tavern stood quiet.Dusty. Waiting.
Amie smiled."I think this place could be really nice."
Emily added, "It just needs a little life in it."
Froy said nothing.But he looked at the door.At the creaking wood. The rusted handle. The way the late sunlight touched the stone.
He stepped forward.And crossed the threshold.
A new home.A new chapter.And for the first time in a very long time—
He wasn't pretending.
Froy stepped into the house—No, his house now.
He wandered through the rooms slowly.The creak of the wooden floor beneath his boots felt unfamiliar… but not unwelcome.The scent of old stone and lingering dust clung to the air like a faded memory.
He found the room that would be his.Small. Quiet.But the sunlight reached the windowsill just right.It was enough.
Froy lay back on the bed, arms behind his head.The ceiling above him was cracked in places, but he didn't mind.
He smiled.Soft. Subtle.
Then he whispered to the empty room:
"Time to start collecting debts, huh…?"
"I think we'll be seeing each other again soon."
"It's exciting, isn't it?"
"It's been what… three years now?"
His voice was almost playful.Almost.
"Brumgar. Selene. Aryvael. Luma."
"Let's see what's become of you all."
And with that, he closed his eyes.Let the quiet settle.
The city outside was loud with life.But inside this room, only silence answered.
For now.
A voice called from downstairs, bright and familiar.
"Hey, little brother! Dinner's ready!"
Froy blinked.Then smiled faintly.
He sat up from the bed, stretched once, and whispered to himself—
"Soon… I hope."
Brumgar. Selene. Aryvael. Luma.He hadn't spoken their names aloud in years.Not since everything burned.
He left his room quietly and descended the wooden stairs.The smell of roasted meat, herbs, and fresh bread met him halfway.
At the table, Amie was already seated—grinning wide, her chin resting on her hands.Emily poured soup into bowls with practiced care.Owen sat at the head, posture relaxed but presence steady.
Froy took his seat.No one asked questions.No one pushed.They just ate.
Laughter came easily.Jokes passed between bites.
And then—Owen spoke.
"So, I've been thinking about school," he said, spearing a carrot with his fork."Amie's turning fourteen soon. We'll need to get her ready for the entrance tests."
Amie groaned, rolling her eyes."Not the academy talk again, Dad..."
Owen chuckled."But it's exciting, isn't it? The Royal Academy of Zolon... it's open to everyone now."
Emily nodded."Ever since the Holy War ended, they've removed bloodline restrictions."
Froy tilted his head slightly.
Owen turned to him."And Froy, if you want to go too—well, you'd need to pass the basic assessments.But if you're willing to try… there's no reason you couldn't join."
Froy blinked once.School?
"A city-wide academy," Owen continued, "founded by the Veyndar royal line.It's built to unify all races, all classes."
Emily added, "After centuries of war… we finally have a place that belongs to everyone."
Froy's spoon hovered above his soup.A school that welcomed commoners. Nobles. Even beastfolk.A school born from peace.
A place where everyone pretended the world had changed.
The Grand Academy of Arcanthia.
The name echoed in Froy's mind as he looked out over the rooftops of Zolon that evening, lanterns flickering below like fireflies trapped in glass.
Interesting, he thought.A school that lets anyone in… if they pass the tests.
He was still only ten.
Two more years.Two years of waiting. Watching. Learning.
Still—The thought of walking through the grand halls of Arcanthia stirred something in him.
Aryvael might be there.Maybe the others too...
And if not?
Well—there would be others.
Strangers to manipulate.Allies to borrow.Enemies to test.And—if fate allowed—friends.
And perhaps...It would be fun.
A new stage. A new game.But with rules written by kings, not gods.
Froy smiled faintly.
"New adventures," he whispered to himself."New problems. New players."
Then his voice dropped to a murmur, as if whispering not to the world, but to the thing that lived inside him.
"And of course...Your mission."
Sethvyr.The one voice that never left.The shadow curled around his spine.The whisper in every prayerless silence.
To complete the task.To plant the seed.To shape the future by unmaking the present.
The boy looked up at the moon, still full.Still watching.
"Let's see what this academy can teach me.""And what I'll teach them in return."