The morning sun barely peeked over the horizon when Lucian and his mother began their journey. Their small cart bumped along the dirt road toward Ironhold Outpost. The settlement lay halfway between their village and the capital. More importantly, it was where the academy entrance examinations would take place.
"Are you nervous, dear?" Mira asked as their cart rolled through the countryside.
Lucian fidgeted with his hands. "A little. What if I'm not good enough? What if my magic isn't strong enough?"
"You've been practicing since you were small," Mira reminded him gently. "Remember when you made all the candles in our house light up at once? You were only eight years old."
"That was an accident," Lucian protested. "I got excited about father coming home from his patrol."
"Accident or not, it showed your potential." Mira reached over and squeezed his hand. "Just do your best. That's all anyone can ask."
The road stretched ahead of them for miles. Other families traveled the same path. Some rode in fancy carriages with magical enchantments. Others walked on foot, carrying their belongings in simple packs. All were heading to the same destination.
"Look at that one," Lucian whispered, pointing to an ornate carriage. Gold trim decorated its sides. The horses pulling it seemed to glow with inner light.
"Probably a noble family," Mira observed. "Their children will have had private tutors and expensive training."
This made Lucian's stomach twist with worry. How could a commoner's son compete with nobility? They had resources he could only dream of. Magic instructors, rare books, enchanted practice tools.
"Don't think like that," Mira said, noticing his expression. "Magic doesn't care about your birth status. It only cares about your heart and determination."
"Is that really true?" Lucian asked.
"Think about the legendary mages," she replied. "Luna Ravencroft came from a merchant family. Vincent Astralwind was a blacksmith's apprentice. Talent can bloom anywhere."
As they traveled, they met other families along the way. A farmer and his twin sons joined their small convoy. The boys were Lucian's age and equally nervous about the tests.
"I heard they make you fight magical beasts," one twin whispered fearfully.
"That's not true," his brother replied. "My cousin took the test three years ago. He said they only test your magical capacity and personality."
"What kind of personality test?" Lucian asked curiously.
The farmer overheard their conversation. "From what I understand, they put you in some kind of dream or vision. They want to see how you handle difficult situations."
"What if you fail?" the first twin asked.
"Then you wait until next year and try again," the farmer said kindly. "Or you can apply to the warrior academies instead. There's no shame in either path."
But Lucian knew he didn't want to be a warrior. Magic called to him in a way sword fighting never had. When he practiced with his father's old blade, it felt clumsy and foreign. When he channeled mana, it felt like coming home.
The journey took most of the day. By late afternoon, Ironhold Outpost came into view. The settlement was larger than Lucian had expected. Tall stone walls surrounded clusters of buildings. Watchtowers rose at regular intervals along the perimeter.
"It's like a small city," Lucian breathed in amazement.
"It has to be," Mira explained. "This outpost protects the trade route between the capital and the border villages. Soldiers, merchants, and their families all live here."
The gates stood wide open to accommodate the influx of test-takers. Guards in polished armor directed the crowds toward different areas. Signs pointed toward "Academy Registration" and "Temporary Lodging."
"We should find somewhere to stay for the night," Mira suggested. "The tests begin early tomorrow morning."
They found a modest inn called The Weary Traveler. The rooms were small but clean. Other families filled the common room, their conversations a buzz of nervous energy and excited speculation.
"I wonder how many people are taking the test," Lucian mused over their simple dinner.
"Hundreds, probably," replied a girl sitting at the next table. She looked about Lucian's age, with striking purple eyes and silver hair. "I'm Lyra, by the way. Lyra Moonvein."
"Lucian Skywalker," he responded politely. "This is my mother, Mira."
"Pleased to meet you both," Lyra smiled. "I've been studying at a private academy for years, preparing for this day. My family has high expectations."
Lucian felt that familiar twist of worry in his stomach. Here was exactly the kind of well-prepared competitor he feared facing.
"What about you?" Lyra asked. "What kind of training have you had?"
"Just basic lessons from our village teacher," Lucian admitted. "Nothing fancy."
"Oh." Lyra's expression shifted slightly. Not cruel, but perhaps a bit dismissive. "Well, I'm sure you'll do your best."
After dinner, Lucian and his mother retired to their room. Lucian stared out the window at the outpost's busy streets. Lanterns cast warm light on the cobblestones. People hurried back and forth on various errands.
"Try to get some sleep," Mira advised. "Tomorrow will be a long day."
But sleep didn't come easily. Lucian's mind raced with possibilities and fears. What if he failed completely? What if his magic wasn't strong enough? What if the personality test revealed some terrible flaw in his character?
Eventually, exhaustion won out over anxiety. Lucian drifted into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of glowing crystals and mysterious tests.