The riders from the Magic Academy stood tall at the village gate, their silver armor shining under the sun. The leader stepped forward, his eyes sharp but calm.
"My name is Master Alaric," he said. "Ethan, bearer of the Fate Mark—you are summoned to the Magic Academy."
A wave of murmurs spread through the village.
"To the academy?" someone whispered.
"He was mana-less just days ago," another said in disbelief.
Ethan looked down at his hands. The memory of the silver blade still burned in his mind. Power had awakened—but it felt dangerous, unstable.
"What happens if I refuse?" Ethan asked.
Alaric's expression turned serious. "Then others will come. Not with offers—but chains."
Lyria stiffened beside him.
Ethan understood. The world had noticed him now. There was no returning to a quiet life.
That evening, Ethan stood at the edge of the village, watching the sunset paint the sky gold and red. Lyria approached silently.
"You're leaving," she said softly.
"I don't want to," Ethan replied. "But if I stay… I'll bring danger here."
Lyria lowered her gaze. "I was planning to leave too. The Empire is searching for me."
The words hit Ethan harder than any blade.
He turned to her. "Then don't go alone."
Lyria looked up, surprised.
"I don't know where this path leads," Ethan continued, his voice steady. "But I know one thing—when I thought I might lose you… my heart refused."
He took a deep breath.
"My heart chose you."
For a long moment, Lyria said nothing. Then she smiled—a soft, honest smile.
"Then," she said gently, "I'll walk this path with you."
The next morning, as Ethan mounted the academy carriage, he didn't feel fear.
He felt resolve.
Behind him lay the life of a powerless boy.
Ahead waited the unknown—power, danger, and destiny.
And beside him… the girl his heart had chosen.