The gates of **Elvadoreth** loomed before us, carved with intricate patterns of ancient battles and victories long past. They weren't just gates—they were a reminder of the power this city held. But even the grandiosity of the gates couldn't hide the fear that hung in the air like a suffocating blanket.
Guards stood everywhere, their eyes scanning the crowd for threats. Some were dressed in shining armor, their swords gleaming in the sunlight, while others wore more practical gear, ready to move at a moment's notice. Every now and then, a group of soldiers rushed into the forests outside the city, their determined faces hinting at the chaos beyond. Far in the distance, thin trails of smoke twisted into the sky—a cruel reminder of the destruction we'd left behind.
The people were no better off. They huddled together near the gates, whispering in hushed tones. Mothers clutched their children close, while men exchanged worried glances. Some sobbed openly, the grief of lost loved ones evident on their faces. The stench of fear, smoke, and death lingered in the air, making it hard to breathe.
As we walked closer, Grandpa stepped ahead, his posture straight despite the weight of our loss. He approached one of the guards, a young man who barely seemed older than Ethan had been. They spoke in hushed tones, too low for me to hear. The guard's expression shifted—confusion, then understanding, then urgency. Without another word, he motioned for us to follow.
The whispers of the crowd grew louder as we passed. Eyes followed us—some filled with curiosity, others with suspicion. I could feel their words like tiny daggers stabbing into my back.
"Who are they?"
"Why are they being let in so quickly?"
"They don't look special… but wait, is that **George the Honored One**?"
"Why would he be here?"
The murmurs only grew louder as we stepped through the gates.
---
Inside the capital, the chaos of the outside world felt distant but not absent. The streets were bustling with people, but there was no joy in their movements. Merchants shouted half-heartedly, their goods barely drawing attention. Soldiers patrolled in pairs, their weapons ready. Every face we passed was painted with the same emotion—fear.
Suddenly, a carriage approached, its horses adorned with gold-plated armor. The driver stopped in front of us, motioning for us to climb in. Grandpa hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on the crowd behind us before he nodded and helped Alysia and me inside.
The ride was silent except for the sound of the horses' hooves against the cobblestones. I could feel Alysia's tiny hand gripping mine tightly. She hadn't stopped crying since we left the village, and I didn't have the words to comfort her. My own emotions were too tangled—anger, sadness, fear, and guilt swirling together in a storm I couldn't control.
When the carriage stopped, we were escorted into a grand hall. The air was heavy with power and authority, the walls adorned with banners of the royal family. At the head of the table sat **King Jacob**, his expression unreadable, and beside him, his wife, **Queen Elizabeth**, radiating an aura of quiet strength. Across the table sat a young girl—probably their daughter, **Maria**—her lips curved in a grin that didn't reach her eyes.
But before I could take it all in, I froze. At the far end of the room was a boy I recognized instantly.
**Alex.**
The boy from the beach—the one I'd met during a carefree moment that now felt like a lifetime ago. His face was a mix of emotions: shock, sadness, and shyness all rolled into one. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to speak, but instead, he lowered his gaze and hesitated.
Then, without a word, he turned and ran from the room.
---
Alysia and I were asked to wait outside while Grandpa stayed behind to speak with the king. The maids treated us with unexpected kindness, offering us fresh grapes and oranges. Alysia nibbled quietly, her usual chatter replaced with silence.
When Grandpa finally emerged, his face was a mixture of pride and sorrow. He crouched down to our level and smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Congratulations," he said softly. "You're both now enrolled in **Harvey Royal Magic School**, the most prestigious school in the world. It's led by the **Seven Prime Magi**, the strongest magicians of our time."
Alysia's eyes lit up for the first time in days. "Really?! That's amazing!" she exclaimed, hugging Grandpa tightly. But her excitement faded just as quickly. "Wait… are you coming with us, Grandpa?"
Grandpa's expression darkened. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Alysia," he said, his voice heavy. "I still have work to do here. But don't worry. I'm entrusting you to someone very special."
A man stepped forward, his presence commanding yet warm. Grandpa smiled at him and said, "Here's Johnny, one of my best apprentices. Johnny, please protect them with your life."
Johnny bowed deeply. "I will, Master George."
---
That night, back at the small home we were staying in, Alysia excitedly packed her clothes for the journey ahead. Meanwhile, I found Grandpa in the kitchen, fumbling with a pot over a fire.
"Hey, Gramps," I asked hesitantly, "how am I supposed to survive at a magic school when I can't even use magic?"
Grandpa paused, then chuckled softly. "Do you know about **Drake**, one of the Seven Prime Magi?"
I disagree. "I don't know him"
"Well," Grandpa said, turning to me with a proud smile, "Drake isn't just a magician. He's a swordsman. He wields magic through his blade, and that makes him one of the strongest in the world. You don't need to throw fireballs to be powerful. You just need to find your own path."
His words ignited something in me—a small flicker of hope amid the darkness.
---
We stayed up late, talking about everything and nothing. The pot of stew Grandpa had been cooking ended up burning, but somehow, when he served it, it tasted amazing.
"Magic," he said with a sly grin.
Then out of nowhere Grandpa said again a perverted joke"Alysia! Do you know something better than this,a mens c-cooking talent" Alysia and I groaned in unison. "Gramps, you're insane," I muttered, remembering how Ethan always stops George.
He just laughed, playfully pushing us toward the bed. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow gonna be your first day, you shouldn't be late."
And so we slept together, huddled close, the warmth of family wrapping around us despite the cold world outside.