The journey from Fulmenia to Pythonia was a relentless odyssey, a treacherous sojourn that wound its way through the rugged terrain of Equestera, a land where nature's harsh embrace sculpted the very land. The weight of their travels bore down heavily upon young Feyn's shoulders.
In a world where alicorns possessed the gift of wings, their majestic appendages were not mere adornments for flights of fancy. Their flight relied on the subtle weave of magic to soar through the skies, but when the enchantment waned, they were left with an exhausting ordeal, necessitating terrestrial travel. Days of unyielding locomotion had sapped their strength, rendering even Raybarn, a seasoned traveler of formidable repute, fatigued.
Feyn, on the other hand, was unaccustomed to the rigors of extended journeys. His prior experiences had been confined to brief outings, never testing his endurance for more than a few hours. This was his maiden voyage into Pythonia's realm, and his youthful exuberance collided with the physical demands of the road. His fervor could hardly shield him from the taxing trials of the journey, compelling him to pause often to regather his strength.
Raybarn, empathetic to his son's toil, understood that these hardships were valuable crucibles in the forging of an aspiring Protector. His role required physical endurance, and Feyn had to learn to surmount these arduous trials. The exchanges between father and son, demanding though they might be for the young alicorn, were a necessary part of his maturation.
"Dad, I'm tired," Feyn confessed during a necessary respite.
"I know you are, but we must press on," Raybarn responded, his understanding swathed in a stern tone of mentorship. "We have to reach Pythonia as swiftly as possible."
Feyn acknowledged his father's wisdom with a weary nod, fully aware that endurance was the key to his aspirations. Raybarn's reassurance provided a comforting bulwark amid the omnipresent exhaustion that threatened to engulf them.
Raybarn, recognizing the emotions welling within his son, offered a deeper level of guidance. "If you're to become a Protector, you'll become accustomed to exercises and drills like these when you enter the Guild."
Feyn's eyes widened, comprehension unfurling like a petal beneath the weight of his father's words. He was beginning to grasp the path he had chosen, one that demanded he embrace the crucible of rigors and tribulations. Raybarn noticed the contemplative expression on his son's face and, with a chuckle, sought to alleviate the burden of the young alicorn's apprehensions.
"Don't fret, Feyn. You'll grow accustomed to it," Raybarn assured with a fatherly grin. "Now, let's continue."
And so they did, resuming their wearying trek through the formidable expanse of Equestera. Hours passed, and the border separating Fulmenia from Pythonia came into view. Raybarn's reputation had preceded him, earning him the respect and camaraderie of the border workers. They joined the queue of travelers awaiting their ethereal identity checks, a critical procedure before entry into Pythonia. This process had been implemented following an incident wherein a rogue alicorn, using magic to assume another's identity, had committed a crime that resulted in the wrongful incarceration of an innocent alicorn.
The officer conducting their identity check recognized Raybarn, and their greeting was infused with warmth. As the scanning energies did their work, a sense of fraternity was palpable.
"Raybarn, good to see you, brother," the officer exclaimed.
"Likewise, Thonrie. How have you been?" Raybarn inquired, his interest sincere.
Thonrie, with a wry smile, replied, "Well, surviving, as we always do. Equestera might be harsh, but we alicorns are tougher."
Raybarn chuckled heartily. "Indeed, we are."
The conversation eventually shifted to Feyn, who had been patiently waiting. Thonrie's keen gaze fell upon the young alicorn. "And is this your son?"
Raybarn beamed with paternal pride. "Indeed, my one and only son. He's following in my footsteps, unlike his sister, who's inheriting her mother's legacy."
The officer nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. "Well, you get one, and she gets one. Seems fair to me."
Thonrie, a middle-aged Pythonian with a mane touched by the silver grace of time, was a trusted friend of Raybarn's. They had forged their friendship many cycles ago, engaging in countless hours of collaborative research and experimentation before Thonrie's reassignment to border duty for identity checks.
Raybarn and Feyn passed their identity checks at the border, journeying deeper into Pythonia, their destination, the AAA. Though they had crossed the border, the capital city was still far away, and the Academy was strategically nestled at its heart, a pulsating core of Pythonia. The grand edifice was a source of pride for the kingdom's residents, who held it in profound reverence.
As they traversed Pythonia, Raybarn seized the opportunity to engage Feyn in meaningful discourse. His tone took on a gravity that stirred a degree of concern within his young son.
"Alright, Feyn," Raybarn intoned, his voice carrying weight, "we must attend to weightier matters. You shall undertake your preliminary entrance examination for the Academy forthwith."
Feyn's heart faltered momentarily. The prospect hadn't crossed his mind during their journey, let alone such a significant trial. "W-What do you mean? H-How am I to—"
"As an alumnus of the Academy and a seasoned scholar, I am eminently qualified to serve as your examiner in this matter," Raybarn interjected, his tone meant to soothe, a conspiratorial wink accompanying his words. "Rest assured, you are well-versed in theory, and your prowess as a mage is evident even at your age. The practical aspect of this test shall pose no challenge, mark my words."
Raybarn's praise warmed Feyn's spirit. His father had always been his paragon, and to witness such confidence in his abilities was a boon indeed. Waste no time, Raybarn posed his inquiry:
"How many types of magic grace Equestera?"
Feyn's confidence was bolstered by the simplicity of the question. "There are three," he replied, unwavering.
"Correct. And the primary category?" Raybarn prompted, their steps echoing along the tranquil path in the Kingdom of Python.
"Ethereal magic, the most accessible and widespread," Feyn declared confidently. "It draws upon the ambient mana permeating our world. It can be found literally everywhere."
"Indeed," Raybarn affirmed, a proud grin adorning his features. "As I said, a trifle for you. Now, as a mere formality, demonstrate a spell employing ethereal magic."
Surveying their surroundings, Feyn spied pebbles strewn along the path. Focusing his will, his horn alight with a pale azure glow, he set the stones in motion, their flight controlled by his telekinesis—a fundamental manipulation of ethereal energy. His chest swelled with pride, a surreptitious glance cast toward his father.
"Alright, alright, I know you master ethereal magic easily. Show off," Raybarn chuckled, acknowledging Feyn's display. "Remember, however, this is but the baseline for entry into the Academy. Mastery of ethereal magic alone will not suffice for success in this test—or in your academic pursuits."
Feyn feigned a pout, releasing his hold on the pebbles, allowing them to tumble to the ground before joining in laughter. "I know, Dad, no need to fret. What's the next question then?"
"Well, as you likely guessed: what's the second category of magic?"
The young Fulmenian pondered, scratching his chin with a paw. "That'd be pure magic. It's a tad trickier, drawing from our own wellspring of mana. Typically, it's wielded by Protectors, who're keen on their limits and the signs of depletion. Pure magic's akin to a sliver of an alicorn's life force. When that reserve runs dry, well, best-case scenario is a coma, worst-case, death. Though, one can gauge the dwindling by a more mundane sensation—hunger."
Raybarn listened attentively as they walked, deftly sidestepping a rock Feyn would have otherwise stumbled over in his absorption. "That's…quite the elucidation, Feyn. Seems those hours buried in tomes have borne fruit," he remarked, a mixture of astonishment and paternal pride coloring his words.
Feyn blushed, gratified to have impressed his father with his acumen. He'd labored tirelessly in recent cycles, aspiring to emulate his role model.
"Now…this is where it gets a touch more intricate. Should you possess the knowledge, can you conjure a spell using pure magic?" Raybarn inquired, his curiosity piqued, eager to witness his son's prowess firsthand.
The young Fulmenian had already choreographed his next display of magic. He shut his eyes, honing his focus on his four paws. Within moments, they crackled with an electric aura, emitting faint yellow sparks. Though unnecessary, he vocalized the spell's name, anticipating his father's inquiry.
"Thunder magic: Lightning walk!" he proclaimed, demonstrating the spell's effect. With a burst of speed, he darted among the trees, a blur of motion causing the blue leaves to cascade in his wake.
After a brief span, he halted before his father, dispelling the spell. "That's my go-to for evading Masha after a prank," he admitted, a wide grin of mischief adorning his face, showing his fangs.
Raybarn's eyes widened before he erupted into laughter. "Ahahah, like father, like son indeed! I've employed the same trick to dodge your mother's ire. With that spell, I'm even faster than her," he boasted, a smug grin playing upon his lips.
"I get it completely—Mom's a Paladin. If she catches you, you're done for. And the same goes for me if the mountain of muscles that is Masha gets her paws on me," Feyn chuckled, sharing in his father's amusement.
"Enough teasing about them when they're not around," Raybarn interjected, his tone half-serious. "Focus now—while you're performing admirably, the test isn't concluded. I trust you know what comes next?"
"Absolutely," Feyn affirmed, refocusing his attention. "Explaining the third type of magic, I presume."
The young Fulmenian gazed upward, the azure canopy partly obscured by the characteristic blue leaves of Pythonia. Information on astral magic was scant, but his sister's aspirations to become a Paladin had imparted some knowledge.
"Astral magic, also known as divine or sacred magic," he began, adopting a serious tone. "It's the most enigmatic form, wielded exclusively by selected alicorns—High Priests and Paladins. Mastery demands not only rigorous training but also the blessing of a member of the Primordial Pantheon."
Raybarn observed his son, the breeze carrying a soothing rustle through the leaves. Feyn appeared lost in contemplation.
Eager to gauge his son's understanding, Raybarn prompted, "Can you elaborate on that, Feyn?"
Caught off guard, Feyn returned his focus to his father. "Oh! Uh, yeah, of course…It's because astral magic belongs to the Primordial Pantheon, and it's pretty risky for regular alicorns. Even with their blessing, using astral magic isn't exactly encouraged," he explained, pausing briefly before forging ahead. "The big issue is that each spell drains a chunk of the user's magic reserves permanently. Astral magic packs a punch, sure, but it's like signing away part of your life with every cast…shortens your lifespan."
Raybarn sensed his son's unease. He was on the verge of urging him to speak freely when Feyn halted their stride, breaking the silence to voice his concerns.
"Dad…has Mom, being a Paladin, ever had to dip into astral magic?" he inquired, a hint of worry coloring his tone as he idly toyed with a leaf at his paw.
Halting beside his son, Raybarn extended a wing, drawing him into a gentle embrace. "No, Feyn. She hasn't," he reassured, offering a comforting smile. "While there have been some scrapes, Equestera is peaceful, and Leyla's strength is more than enough to handle any threat without resorting to such spells."
Relieved by his father's answer, the young Fulmenian's anxieties eased. With a subtle tilt of his head, Raybarn indicated they should resume their journey, aiming to reach the nearby town come the morrow's dawn.
"Just one more question, and I reckon your test will be in the books," Raybarn declared. "Different elements of pure and astral magic exist—what are they?"
Quickening his pace to match his father's stride, Feyn replied without hesitation. "Thunder, Flames, Light, Storm, Sand, Heroic, and Arcane. Each tied to a member of the Primordial Pantheon," he recited as if plucked from a well-worn tome. "For instance, us Fulmenians are pretty good with Thunder magic, but mastering any other element would be a stretch."
Under his breath, almost lost in the rustle of leaves and not reaching his father's ears, he muttered, "But not impossible…"
Raybarn swelled with pride at his son's knowledge. "That's an exceptional answer, Feyn! Without a doubt, you've aced your preliminary entrance exam for the Arcanic Academy of Alykarn," he proclaimed, a broad smile lighting up his features.
Feyn's countenance illuminated with an effervescent joy, prompting him to prance and leap around his father, who couldn't help but chuckle at his son's exuberance. "Just one more step, and you'll be primed for enrollment once you secure your Protector's license!" Raybarn exclaimed with paternal pride.
But Feyn's jubilation dimmed as a realization struck him. "Oh…I completely forgot about that," he confessed, a hint of dismay coloring his tone.
Raybarn rested a paw on his son's head, tousling his mane affectionately. "Fear not, my boy. I have every confidence in you. Just a license stands between you and the Academy—no need to embark on the kind of adventures your sister seeks," he reassured, his voice brimming with paternal assurance.
With a shy smile and a nod of gratitude, Feyn acquiesced, and they resumed their journey along the tranquil roads of Pythonia.
Night descended upon them, casting the world in a cloak of darkness.
Beneath the towering canopy, they found respite, sharing tales and laughter as they whiled away the hours. Feyn cherished these moments with his father, his admiration for him deepening with each passing conversation. From familial anecdotes to jovial jests to earnest discussions about the Academy, they conversed well into the night until weariness claimed them, and they surrendered to the embrace of slumber.
Come dawn, Raybarn roused Feyn from his peaceful repose, coaxing him back to wakefulness. Though reluctant at first, Feyn yielded to his father's gentle prodding, and together they resumed their journey through Pythonia, Feyn trailing closely behind.
After several hours of travel, the sight of a distant village offered a glimmer of hope, a beacon on their path forward. As they walked, father and son continued their dialogue, Feyn soaking in the wisdom imparted by Raybarn.
With the first light of dawn painting the sky, they reached the village, ready to rest and recharge before embarking on the next leg of their journey, awaiting transportation to Alykarn.