Morning rose over a pale sky, tinged with orange, as if dawn itself hesitated to embrace the day. The city of Flavia, still half-asleep, seemed to breathe slowly—cradled by the steady rhythm of household fires, the quiet footsteps of early merchants, and the distant echoes of bells.
Issac walked alone, a dark silhouette slipping through the alleyways. It had been several days since he had moved closer to the city center. He no longer hid like before, but still avoided eyes that lingered too long. The mysterious book at his belt, tied by a worn cord, gently tapped against his hip with each step.
His eyes—calm and piercing—saw everything. Every whisper of the wind. Every half-open window. Every glance, even fleeting, from a passerby.
Since emerging from the forest, something had changed. Not just within him—but around him. He could feel things. Perceive them. He no longer needed to watch for long to sense a passerby's mood, a guard's tension, or a child's fear. His senses had sharpened, and his mind had… stabilized. His intense and prolonged meditation had opened some kind of threshold within—a door between his awareness and the world. A door he could neither fully close nor completely cross.
Issac spoke of it to no one. But ever since the strange experience—where he had felt everything around him as if he were the air itself—he knew he had changed. It was too brief to understand, but too powerful to forget.
So he kept moving.
Today, he walked toward the Academy.
Not to enter it. Not yet. He simply wanted to… observe. To feel what it was like to stand near the place everyone called "the cradle of the elite."
The streets grew wider. The cobblestones more even. Guards, more frequent. Houses, more noble. The air carried a distinct tension—a mix of ambition and appearance. People walked differently here: heads held high, gestures measured, words chosen.
But Issac wasn't here to play a part. He was here to listen.
And today, the whispers were many.
He sat on a stone bench, not far from a fountain where young apprentices spoke in hushed tones. He made no effort to hide. His appearance gave nothing away—simple, clean, slightly worn. His presence, silent but not threatening.
But his ears… they were wide open.
"You heard what they're saying? Some street kid's getting into the Academy on the prince's personal recommendation."
"Tch, rumor. You really believe a no-name, no family, no talent kid could impress Pyros Flavia?"
"They say he mastered Spiritual Energy in just a few months. No mentor. No guide."
"Then why don't they say his name?"
"That's just it. No one knows who he is."
Issac stayed still. His heart didn't race. But a faint shiver crept up his spine.
He hadn't known the prince had spoken of him.
He hadn't known the rumor had spread so far, so fast.
But what he now knew—with a calm yet undeniable certainty—was that he wanted to enter the Academy. Not for recognition. Not for glory. But because he had to learn. To grow. To become stronger. To understand. To remember. To one day choose what to do with his fate.
The rest of the day passed slowly. He wandered the streets like a casual passerby. He observed the Academy's great towers from the marketplace. He memorized the entry schedules, the types of students entering, their uniforms, their behavior. He noted the words carved into the stone at the entrance:"For Wisdom, For Flame."
There was something strange in the air here. A pressure. Invisible, but very real.
As evening fell and the shadows stretched long, Issac returned to his modest room in a quiet inn. He didn't sleep right away. He sat for a long time, staring at the book's cover. He didn't even open it.
He thought back to what the man had told him:
"You'll understand in due time."
But time… waited for no one.
Not far away, in the hanging gardens of the royal estate, Pyros Flavia watched his sister in silence. Flora was staring into a small enchanted mirror. In it, she could see Issac, walking alone, lost in thought.
"Still watching him?" Pyros whispered.
Flora flinched slightly, then put the mirror away without a word.
"You're thinking of inviting him to the Academy?" she asked.
The prince didn't answer right away. He looked up at the sky, then simply said:
"I think he might change more than just himself."