The academy, at least from the exterior, had undergone a surprising degree of alteration. It remained as imposing as ever, a mountain carved into a fortress, yet the sight brought an unexpected smile to my face. Perhaps the nostalgia was rooted in the structural similarity to The Taj, which was also ensconced within a mountain.
The surrounding gardens had grown and transformed since I was last here; the giant maple trees were new. They had been magically enhanced, their canopies now casting shade over the equivalent of half a football field.
The perennial flowers, however, were the same. Looking at them now, I felt a familiar pang of nostalgia.
"Well? What are your impressions?"
I walked ahead with Uncle Marcus as my friends were left to navigate their first required social interaction in years with the Orlean siblings.
"It is certainly more modernized. But how did you obtain permission to alter a school that has stood virtually unchanged for six centuries?"
The Directorate my father once spoke of would never have sanctioned even a minor change like re-landscaping.
"I believe you underestimate my charm... and I paid an exorbitant amount of gold," he admitted with a wry smile.
I chuckled; now it made perfect sense. I examined the alterations: trees, some minimalistic exterior furniture, and cosmetic patchwork on the ancient stone walls. The towers had clearly received the most attention.
This place used to feel like a crumbling, haunted castle, held together only by the hopes of its residents and by magic itself. Now, it merely resembled a well-maintained, ancient castle. I was willing to bet the interior remained precisely the same.
There were more students present than I had anticipated, scattered across the grounds in spirited conversation. We had arrived early; most of the students would not materialize until the following day.
"How do you feel?"
I looked into a somewhat nervous face—a rare expression on the Headmaster. It was difficult to ignore a person who genuinely cared.
"I am fine. It is not as if I am haunted by some deep-seated, soul-crushing memories. I simply didn't wish to be here back then."
He smiled at my blunt delivery but understood that I was not lying. I felt genuinely at ease.
I heard accelerated footsteps and saw the girl my uncle had brought with him walking toward us.
"Headmaster Aslan? I believe we should initiate Ferith and his friends into the checking-in procedure. Perhaps we should commence the school tour?"
Lor Orlean had clearly reached the limit of her tolerance for Pelit's awkwardly phrased attempts at complimenting her.
At her question, my uncle began to wave her away.
"That is hardly necessary, Miss Orlean. Ferith spent his—"
"Ahem." I cleared my throat sharply.
I caught his eye, and he instantly understood my desire to keep my childhood association with the school private. He quickly altered his statement.
"Absolutely. Do take care of the children. Ferith, come find me once you are settled." He offered the instruction over his shoulder as he walked away.
"I will," I murmured to myself.
I rejoined my friends, waiting for our official guides to begin the tour.
"Firstly," the boy, Milan, sighed dramatically, "as we informed your friends, it is unprecedented for a student to begin two years late, but here we are."
"But," his sister cut in, softening the tone, "the Headmaster assured us you spent time as monster hunters, so you should find it quite simple to catch up to the other students."
We exchanged knowing glances. Over the weeks, we had discussed every possible cliché that might occur during the first few weeks, and some that would never happen to anyone, ever. Receiving thinly disguised concern for starting school with what they viewed as some sort of advantage/disadvantage? Check.
"You mentioned certain procedures?" I asked, steering the conversation.
"Yes. Please follow us."
Milan took the lead, his sister close behind. Once they had established some distance, Pelit leaned onto my shoulder.
"Ferith, I think I am in love."
"...God damn it, Pelit," I groaned.
"That is not physically possible," Rimel summarized.
"Have you never heard of love at first sight?" Pelit demanded, staring at Lor Orlean's back.
"I assure you, it is not real. It is merely a chemical reaction in the brain, nothing more," Rimel insisted.
"Rimel, I believe I shall judge that for myself. Furthermore, a man who has never been in love educating a man who just has? Absurd! Do you hear this, Ferith?" He turned to me for support.
"...God damn it, Pelit."
The Relic of Merleau
We arrived at the rear entrance, which led toward the massive garden and the Ecouves.
"That is the Forest of Ecouves. Beyond it lies the town of Etien, one of the oldest magical settlements in history," Lor Orlean announced, providing the information as we walked. Pelit was glued to every word, and I saw Rimel occasionally mouth the words along with her, confirming that he had read all this in his books.
Milan largely ignored all of us.
They led us to an enormous wooden door, intricately carved with sayings in ancient Aramaic.
"This door is special," the girl ran ahead of us. "For one, you will notice it has no discernible way of opening."
She was correct; it was made from a single, seamless slab of wood, without a keyhole or crack.
"The legend states that this wood actually originated in space," she pointed upward. "And how, you ask, is that possible? I will tell you: the Tale of the Indomitable Wood..."
She was enjoying this far too much.
The fabled story recounted that this piece was part of a larger meteor that fell from the sky, a gift from Merleau, the mythical God of Magicians.
It was utterly indestructible.
It stood ignored for many years until the first Headmaster sought the assistance of the Fairies, who, with the aid of Dwarves, managed to split the wood into smaller, manageable pieces, and worked it into shape.
Some pieces were fashioned into weapons—a sword, a bow with ten arrows, and a pair of daggers—all now supposedly lost to history.
The rest was stolen by the Fairies and hidden in their realm, an act that did not sit well with the rulers of the age.
Wars were fought for centuries, and so on, and so forth.
Nonsense. Who would genuinely care about pieces of wood, even if they were indestructible?
Her story lasted ten minutes and eighteen seconds, complete with dramatic hand gestures and more useless fairy tales.
"...As the fierce battle concluded, the Fairy Queen and her armies bent the knee. Grandmaster Iver Geller asked for one thing only: to help him ensure the safety of the school and the young magicians. This door was their pledge, ensuring the peace of all who attend."
"What a story," Pelit said, mesmerized. Rimel looked bored, like someone who already knew all of this, and even her own brother seemed to be fighting sleep.
It did not bother Lor Orlean in the slightest.
"Indeed. Now, the way to enter is simple: you step forward and present your wand, like this." She demonstrated, touching her wand to the surface of the wood.
The door instantly rippled, as if made entirely of water.
She gave us a large smile and passed through it. The ripples ceased once she disappeared, and the wood returned to its impenetrable, solid state.
A second later, she walked back out the same way.
"...And that is the only way," she concluded, looking proud. "Headmaster Aslan has already ensured the door will accept your unique magical signatures. Do not ask how."
I nearly rolled my eyes at the fanaticism in her voice but refrained.
"Now, take out your wands and try." She finished, stepping aside.
Both Pelit and Rimel waited for me, knowing I did not possess a wand.
I gave them an encouraging nod. They stepped forward and presented their wands, walked inside, spent a few seconds, and walked back out.
When it was my turn, I simply walked up and placed my hand on the door, which immediately alerted our guide.
"...No, your wand, Ferith. As I demonstrated? Just a minute ago?"
I glanced back, and Lor demonstrated in the air what she had done, waving her wand in a clearly silly manner.
At least she was amusing.
I allowed my magic to seep inside the wood, and I felt something familiar and nostalgic click within me.
The door allowed me to pass. I found myself inside the school.
The great hall was larger than I remembered. Just as I had predicted, the interior had been left untouched. Absolutely nothing had changed.
A few students and teachers stood around, casting curious glances at me. To be fair, I was still standing with my arm extended outward.
I offered them a small smile and walked back outside.
"...Unbelievable! How did you do that!?"
To my surprise, it was Milan Orlean who asked.
He was close—uncomfortably close.
I took a deliberate step away before answering.
"It is not a major feat. Since I do not possess a wand, my uncle simply devised a workaround."
My lie was flawless; even if they questioned Marcus, he would merely corroborate the story.
"Impossible!" Lor Orlean shrieked.
God, did all girls possess this high-pitched scream?
She walked as close as her brother, though I did not feel the same unease when she did it.
"Every single magician ever born received their wand, directly handed down to us by Merleau himself!"
Was she genuinely five years old to believe such a thing?
"Calm down, sister," her brother tapped her shoulder. "As you can clearly see, it... it did happen. The Headmaster figured it out. C-Come... come on!"
She had to be dragged a little, but her floral scent lingered.
Milan placed his sister beside my friends and walked back over.
"Apologies for that. She doesn't process surprises well." He offered an apologetic smile.
His attitude had done a 180-degree turn.
"I didn't take offense. Would you mind if the boys and I took a short walk by ourselves? We need to talk a bit. We will stay close," I promised.
"Uh-huh... sure. I'll calm my sister down for a bit."
He walked away, occasionally looking back, as if afraid I might spontaneously attack him.
I led them back out toward the front, into the garden. After a short walk, we reached a beautifully constructed little gazebo with a small table and comfortable chairs.
I took a moment to find the deep slashes I had made on the wooden beam years ago. Indeed, my father, my uncle, and I had built this gazebo together.
Ah, sweet memories.
"I never tire of seeing people's expressions after they learn about you," Pelit stated. "That one was certainly entertaining enough. I'll give it an eight out of ten."
We all laughed at the statement.
"You have a lot of... annoying questions to look forward to," Rimel interjected.
"I will manage."
It wasn't as if I had any answers myself. No one did.
In our world, at the precise moment of birth, a literal magic wand, already perfectly attuned to your signature, appears without fail.
These wands are not only proof that you are destined to be a magician, but they are also the only one you ever get.
My uncle once told me that we knew more about other star systems than we did about the origin of these objects our lives depend on.
"How does it feel?"
I looked back at Rimel.
"How does what feel?" I countered.
He walked up to me, opening his hand to encompass the horizon.
"Knowing all of this belongs to you."
Nonsense.
"Pfft. Don't make me laugh." I pushed his hand away.
"I am serious. It is in every single book I read. Your family, the Aslans, were instrumental in helping the Dwarves build the school. Hell, they helped establish the town of Etien. It is on your land. It is practically yours."
"I cannot believe this," Pelit spoke up, looking genuinely shocked. "This means you are super-rich."
Lord God.
"That is not my central point!" Rimel tried to reclaim the conversation.
"I apologize. Then what is your central point?" Pelit asked.
"Alright! Alright." I stepped in before the debate could consume another twenty minutes of my life. "Let's postpone this discussion until another time. We need to settle in already."
I led them by the arm back toward the school. It was time to begin our new lives in earnest.