Chapter Thirty-Nine
I’d gotten more answers in these few minutes than I had since I’d arrived. My head spun with what to do with the information as I sat in the beautiful room and reflected.
I heard footsteps before I saw her.
Soft, measured, the kind that gave you warning but not alarm. The kind of steps that had walked these halls long enough to be part of their rhythm.
I turned toward the arched doorway just as my grandmother stepped inside.
Grandma Elira paused just over the threshold, her silver hair caught in a shaft of soft light, her cloak pulled tight against her shoulders.
Her eyes moved slowly around the room, taking it in as the glimmering driftwood beams overhead cast a warm shadow that still clung to the space.
She smiled, small and full of something I couldn’t quite name.
“I thought I might find you here,” she said.
“I didn’t know this room existed. Not until today.”
She nodded. “It shows itself only when it wants to.”
We stood in silence for a moment. Not awkward. Just still.
Then she stepped farther in, her eyes following the faint light that danced along the floor, the floating seeds still drifting lazily in the air.
“It’s changed since I last saw it,” she said softly. “But then, I suppose you have too.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, so I didn’t.
Instead, I gestured to a brilliant green cushion that looked like it had been plucked from a forest glade. She smiled, walked over, and lowered herself onto it with the practiced grace of someone who’s done it a thousand times but still mutters about her knees.
“I spoke to the Academy,” I said, quietly.
Her eyes found mine. She didn’t blink or react the way I’d half-expected with surprise or doubt or a hundred questions. Instead, she nodded, just once.
“I’m not sure I did much talking, though,” I added. “Mostly… I listened.”
That made her smile again. “That’s the harder part, most days.”
The hush returned, broken only by the faint sound of something fluttering in the rafters and the distant crackle of magic settling.
She studied me for a long moment, her face unreadable but not unkind.
“How are you holding up?” she asked.
I hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.”
I looked down at my hands, then back at her. “There’s a lot.”
“There always is,” she said. “Especially at the beginning of something.”
I almost smiled. “Feels like the middle and the end, too.”
She chuckled, low and warm, then leaned back and crossed her legs beneath her cloak.
“But there’s something else,” she said. “I’ve felt it. Since earlier.”
My stomach tightened.
She studied me gently. “I think… something shifted between us.”
I didn’t answer right away.
“You mean after the dragon conversation,” I said finally.
She nodded. “Yes.”
The light in the room seemed to dim slightly, or maybe it was just the way my chest pulled tight again, the way my breath slowed.
“I think I wanted more from you than I had the right to,” I said. “I think… I wanted you to have all the answers, and when you didn’t give them, I felt… betrayed.”
She didn’t flinch. “And now?”
I shrugged. “Now I think I understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That maybe you were just trying to keep me safe. Or maybe you were afraid. Or maybe you didn’t know what I’d become and didn’t want to force me into a path I wasn’t ready to walk.” I paused. “Or maybe you were just tired.”
She let out a slow breath. “All of those things.”
I looked at her, really looked.
“I didn’t mean to put that on you,” I said. “But I still felt it.”
“I know,” she said. “And I knew it might come. But knowing something doesn’t make it easier to watch.”
We sat with that.
The whisper of the Academy buzzed somewhere in the background, content for now to wait.
“I was afraid,” she said after a long pause. “Not just for you. Of what it would mean. Of the dragons stirring. Of the Wards changing. Of this place waking. I’ve lived long enough to know that when things start shifting, there’s always a price.”
“And yet,” I said, “you’ve stayed here. With all of it.”
She looked at me. “Because I believe in it. And now… I believe in you. Even when I’m afraid. I’ve made more mistakes than I care to think about, and I don’t want to shift any of that onto you.”
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Being chosen by something bigger than yourself.”
“It’s worse when you say it out loud, ” I muttered.
That earned a laugh.
“But yes,” I said. “It’s hard. And it’s not just the title. It’s… the trust. The weight. The wondering if you’re going to mess it up and take everything down with you.”
“You will,” she said.
I blinked.
“You’ll mess things up. We all do. That’s part of it. But everything won’t come tumbling down with you.”
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
“But you’ll also make things right. And grow. And build something better with what’s left behind. That’s the part no one tells you.”
The lights above shimmered a little brighter.
We sat there a while longer. The Academy let us.
Eventually, she reached over and took my hand.
“Nothing’s broken between us,” she said. “But we are different now. And that’s not a bad thing.”
I nodded. “Different isn’t the same as distant.”
“No,” she said. “And different means we’re still growing.”
I leaned back and looked up at the beams above, the strange, beautiful architecture of this room that had waited so long to be seen again.
“Do you think the first student is out there?” I asked.
Her smile returned.
“I think they’re already on their way.”
Grandma Elira and I stepped out of the room together, our footsteps quiet against the smooth stone floor.
The soft magic of the place clung to my skin like the last warmth of bathwater before the chill set in. I kept glancing over my shoulder, half expecting the room to vanish when I left it, like a dream that dissolved as soon as you woke. But the door remained, quiet and waiting, tucked neatly into the corridor like it had always been there.
Maybe it had. Maybe I just hadn’t been ready to see it.
The hallway ahead was dimmer, but not cold. The sconces flickered in welcome, sensing my grandma’s presence or mine. The magic in the Academy had begun to feel like an old friend who couldn’t speak but always answered.
My grandmother walked beside me with her hands tucked behind her back, humming something low and tuneless under her breath.
She looked lighter, somehow. The conversation we’d shared inside that strange, airy room had also loosened something in her chest. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.
It wasn’t until we turned a corner that I saw them.
Nova stood at the intersection of two corridors, her dark hair falling in wild waves over her shoulders. Her shawl had slipped down to one elbow, and she was moving her hands animatedly as she spoke. Bella stood across from her, grinning widely, her cheeks flushed pink from whatever trouble they were cooking between them. Ardetia, ever composed, leaned back against the wall, arms folded, her eyes flicking between them like she was only pretending to be uninterested.
Their voices echoed softly against the stone walls, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Nova was the first to notice me.
“There she is,” she said, smiling as she pushed off the wall and came toward me. “Back from the land of whispers?”
I returned her smile. “You could say that.”
Bella stepped beside her, with bright eyes. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one people get when the Academy speaks to them,” she said, giving me a gentle elbow to the ribs. “You’re practically glowing. Don’t try to deny it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.
Ardetia straightened and offered me a nod, her face unreadable as always, but there was something in the set of her mouth, a small quirk at the corner, that felt like approval.
My grandma touched my arm. “I’ll leave you to it. I need a few minutes with my tea and my heating stones. My knees tell me we’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“Of course,” I said, watching her go with a quiet fondness.
When she was out of sight, Nova turned to me again. “So? What did it say?”
“The Academy?” I hesitated, then nodded. “It said the time has come.”
The words were simple, but their weight pressed against all of us. Even Ardetia tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp.
“It said more than that,” I added. “It told me the Academy is opening. For real.”
Nova exhaled, her shoulders dropping. Bella’s hands fluttered up to her mouth in something like awe, and Ardetia murmured something under her breath I couldn’t quite catch.
“It also said students would come,” I continued.
Bella’s grin spread.
Nova nodded, eyes softening. “Well, who better to teach them than a group of troublemakers who’ve all had to rebuild themselves from the ground up?”
Ardetia gave a short nod. “Then we’ll need to make sure the classrooms are ready.”
Nova turned toward the nearest hall. “Should we go look again?”
Bella looped her arm through mine. “We’d be ridiculous not to.”
Together, the four of us moved through the corridors, our footfalls in sync, the air around us warming with each step.
We started with Nova’s room. As soon as she stepped through the door, the lights shifted again, this time pulsing gently in response to her presence. The crystals lining the shelves gave off a deeper glow, and the dried herbs seemed to sway ever so slightly, even though the air was still.
Nova touched the edge of the table where the cards lay spread.
“I didn’t imagine this,” she whispered. “That this was waiting for me.”
I smiled, but the truth of it tightened something in my throat. It had been waiting. And it had finally opened its doors to her.
We moved to Bella’s classroom and stood in the stillness for a long moment.
Then I said it.
“I have to tell them.”
Nova looked over. “Who?”
“Stella. Keegan. They’ve been with me through all of it. And they need to know.”
“They’ll want to celebrate,” Bella said, beaming.
I nodded, my hand resting on the carved edge of the desk beside me.
“They should. The Academy is waking up. The Wards are pulsing again. And now…” I looked back down the hall where we’d come from. “Now, we begin.”
Ardetia, still standing near the doorway, said quietly, “One step at a time.”
“Yes,” I said. “But this one? This is the first that matters.”
Because the Academy had spoken.
Because the classrooms had formed.
Because the doors were ready.
All that remained now was the knock at the gate.