"You may come in."

  "Your documents finally arrived!" Katia exclaimed, bursting into the room with the energy of someone who had just run a marathon. She stopped by the bed, tilting her head to try and see what I was holding. "What are you reading?"

  I closed the book on my lap, showing the worn-out cover.

  "It's a travel diary. The author's pseudonym is AllenotnA."

  "AllenotnA?" Katia wrinkled her nose, processing. "What a strange name."

  "I agree. Why the capital A at the end? Anyway, she passed through a place called Dorieris. She said that at first sight, it was an island dominated by frozen thunderbolts."

  "Frozen thunderbolts?" Katia blinked. "What do you mean, thunderbolts that freeze?"

  "The book describes that there are thunderbolts that don't move all over the island; they're stationary in the sky, and in some parts on the ground." Katia was silent for a second, clearly trying to visualize the image.

  "Strange, sounds interesting." She shook her head, as if forcing herself back to the main subject. She extended her hand, and I saw the small document between her fingers. "Here, your documents."

  I took the paper. It was simple, but official — my name, my origin, an issue date. For the first time in my life, I officially existed for the Capital.

  "It's strange that you didn't have one," Katia commented, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Normally we're registered at two or three years old."

  "Two or three years old?" I repeated, looking from the document to her.

  "Yes." She shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "My father registered me as soon as I was born. I think it's the law, or something." She paused. "You didn't know?"

  I didn't answer. I just looked at the document in my hands.

  Katia didn't insist. Instead, her face lit up with the expression I was beginning to recognize — the one that preceded something she considered exciting.

  "So…" She leaned forward, her lavender eyes sparkling. "Want to go see the Capital?"

  I stood up and leaned the chair against the desk.

  Katia laughed. "That's what I thought."

  "How exactly are we going to get there?" I asked, as we turned down the second-floor corridor. "The residence is outside the walls."

  "I'll ask Corto to take us."

  The main staircase appeared before us, and we descended another level. The house was silent, as always during the morning.

  "Won't that be a problem?" I insisted. "Taking him away from his duties?"

  Katia stopped on the last step and turned to me with an easy smile.

  "No." She resumed walking toward the staff wing. "Besides, he can take the opportunity to do some shopping while we explore. Everyone wins."

  Now that they've brought it up, what kind of shopping do they do? The question hammered in my mind.

  Katia stopped in front of a door at the end of the corridor and knocked twice, quick and confident.

  "Excuse me?"

  The door opened almost immediately, revealing an older man with gray hair and an erect posture. I recognized the butler who had received us on the first day. His eyes swept over the two of us before fixing on Katia with respectful familiarity.

  "Miss Katia. How can I help you?"

  "Is Corto available?" Katia leaned forward slightly, trying to peek into the room behind him. "We need to go to the Capital."

  The butler inclined his head at a precise angle, processing the information.

  "May I ask what you will be doing in the Capital, miss?"

  "I'm going to show the city to Mio." Katia jerked her thumb in my direction, as if that explained everything. "Her documents arrived today."

  The butler's gaze slid to me for an instant, then returned to Katia.

  "Certainly." He paused briefly. "You'll need thirty minutes for us to prepare the carriage. Corto will be ready by then."

  "Alright. We'll wait at the entrance."

  The butler inclined his head again in farewell and closed the door with a soft click.

  We sat on the steps of the main entrance, the morning sun already warming the stones. The Icehart property stretched silently before us, the training field empty, the gardens immaculate.

  If I ask what the city is like, she'll say she doesn't know how to answer. Maybe the question is too vague.

  "Is the city very busy?"

  "It depends." Katia waved her hand in a so-so gesture. "At some times, yes. Usually early in the morning when the markets open, and late afternoon when everyone's going home."

  Dozens of voices. People calling to each other, merchants announcing their goods, children running, carts passing by. All at the same time. I don't think I handle that well.

  Is there anything to cover my ears?

  The idea came and died in the same instant. Asking for that would be strange. Katia had already found it strange when I counted the windows. Explaining why I didn't want to hear all the voices in the city would be worse.

  There's no way around it. I'll have to accept it.

  "Don't make that face; you'll like it," Katia said, as if reading my thoughts. "The only catch is that we won't be able to visit everything today."

  What? I'm absolutely sure I didn't change my expression. How did she know what I was thinking?

  "Putting that aside," I returned to the subject, "can we visit the tower?"

  Katia lifted her gaze to the sky, as if preparing to say something tragic.

  "No." The answer came quickly, definitive. "The towers are part of the city's integral functioning. You can observe from afar, but entering is strictly forbidden."

  "As expected," I murmured, but something in her speech made me stop. "Wait. You said 'towers.' Plural. Why towers?"

  Katia blinked, as if only then realizing her own word choice.

  "Oh. It's just that… besides the main one, there are three more. Only they're smaller."

  Before I could ask more, the distant sound of hooves on stone echoed from the direction of the carriage house. Katia lifted her head, a smile replacing her thoughtful expression.

  "Corto!" She jumped up, waving in the direction of the approaching carriage. "Here!"

  The vehicle was smaller than the one that had brought us from the Capital, more agile, pulled by two dark horses. The man at the front — young, with disheveled brown hair — raised his hand in greeting.

  Katia was already running toward the carriage.

  "Come on, Mio!" She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "The day won't wait for us."

  As we approached, Corto made a salute, bowing his head while one arm remained glued to his body.

  "Miss Ka…" He began to speak, interrupted by Katia who seemed impatient for a second.

  "You got it wrong!" Katia interrupted, making a funny sound and crossing her fingers in an X. "What did we agree on?"

  He blinked, clearly caught off guard. He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, a somewhat embarrassed smile appearing on his lips.

  "Sorry. I'm not used to it yet."

  "We're the same age," Katia declared, placing her hands on her hips with theatrical authority. "You can call me by my name. Without the M-i-s-s."

  "Right, right." Corto laughed, and for the first time he seemed to actually relax. "So, where do you want to go?"

  "Drop us off at the Capital's gate." She was already practically inside the carriage. "Around four, we'll meet in the same place."

  As soon as the carriage began to move, I rested my elbows on my knees and turned to Katia.

  "Why that?"

  Katia snorted, throwing her head back. "It's a pain having to deal with those formalities. My family isn't used to that kind of thing."

  Isn't used to it? I frowned. A family that has a butler, servants, a house with thirty windows and a tower? Where does this personality come from?

  The carriage gained speed, the stones on the path producing a steady rhythm under the wheels. Katia sighed, looking out the window.

  "You know what's most boring about trips? It's having to wait. It doesn't matter if the trip is short or long, if it's to a place you've already been, it's absolutely boring. Not even the scenery is new."

  Katia crossed her legs and arms in a single movement, taking her eyes off the window and turning to me. "Mio, are you listening?"

  We've gained enough distance from the house. The road seen through the window seemed calm. It doesn't look like it'll shake much… Perfect! A book appeared in my hands.

  "What?" Katia leaned in, eyes wide. "Where did you get that? Is it a book?"

  "No." I opened the notebook to the first page, full of cramped notes. "You said I couldn't take books outside the house."

  Katia blinked.

  "So…"

  "I transcribed one."

  "But to transcribe, you need to read the book."

  "Yes."

  Silence. Absolutely.

  I watched her face closely, the eyes that widened more, the mouth that opened slightly, the visible processing behind her forehead.

  She's thinking I'm an idiot.

  "Calm down. You're probably thinking about why I would read a book I've already read," I began, explaining myself. "But I wrote this because I didn't understand certain parts and wanted to clear up some doubts with you."

  Katia's face softened. "Oh, that makes sense. Actually, that's a really good idea when you can't take books out of the house." Her expression turned somewhat smug in an instant.

  "You're not thinking about asking the servants to transcribe for you, are you?"

  "Ehe," she replied, winking one eye while smiling.

  ...Where is the rich girl who broke the social barrier with the servants?

  I flipped through the notebook, showing the passages I had marked. Most of my doubts came from the text's structure — different concepts and words, arguments that seemed to lose themselves before reaching the main point. Katia listened in silence, her eyes following my notes.

  She said the biggest problem was the way of reading. I should interpret it differently from any book I had ever read. It wasn't something I could understand easily, but it was a start.

  Before I could finish my doubts, the carriage slowed down. The sound of hooves on the road changed — firmer, more regular. When I looked up, I saw the walls of the Capital approaching through the window.

  "Have we already arrived?"

  "Yes," Katia nodded.

  "Really?" I looked out the window again, expecting to see the entrance not too far away.

  "Yes, the Capital isn't that, far far away."

  The carriage reduced speed until it stopped completely before the gate. Ahead of us, two guards in shimmering armor exchanged brief glances before one stepped forward, his hand raised in a clear stop gesture.

  "Documents," the voice came muffled by the helmet, but firm.

  Katia didn't wait. She pushed the small door open with both hands and jumped to the ground before anyone could react. Corto was already descending from the front, adjusting his posture to speak with the guards.

  I got down next, my feet meeting the stone ground. I stood there for a moment, looking at the carriage — polished wood, high wheels, metal details that gleamed under the morning sun.

  Why was I riding in this thing? Reality had just hit me.

  The question echoed in my head, absurd and inevitable.

  If I had thought about this a week ago… this would be impossible? Better not think about it.

  "Mio," Katia called, positioned near the guards. "Come."

  I walked over to them, my steps slower than they should have been. The two guards stood erect, posture impeccable, but something changed when I approached.

  "Miss Icehart," one of them said, with an inclination of the head that I didn't see Katia reciprocate. "It's always a pleasure."

  Katia, without comment, simply extended her document. I did the same, and then the guard checked and returned it. Both turned to me and then looked at each other as if they had seen a ghost.

  A normal reaction. I'd even say it's comforting.

  "Welcome to the Capital, Fontana." They stepped aside, opening the way.

  Katia was already passing through, but I stopped. For just a second. My eyes found the statue — the woman with long hair, covered in vines, the crown obscuring one eye. The same as on the first day.

  "Mio?" Katia called again.

  I crossed the tunnel of the gate — a dark passage that swallowed the light for a few seconds before I emerged on the other side.

  Before I even finished crossing, the light reflected off the houses partially blinded me. White. Everything was white. The houses rose in squared geometric forms, but their bases were circular. There was a long road in the middle, separating two districts full of houses.

  Rows of them stretched uphill, so compact they seemed to embrace each other. People circulated among the stalls in a constant flow — some carrying baskets, others stopped in little conversation circles, children running between adults' legs. The sound was a wall of overlapping voices, laughter, negotiations, the dragging of crates.

  "Fontana is known as the White City," Katia said beside me, and even with the buzz, her voice came through clearly. "As you can see, it needs no introduction."

  "Impressive, isn't it?" Katia's voice seemed distant. "And this is just the entrance."

  Houses, houses, and more houses. They're so close together. How many people must live here? Further ahead, the city seems to rise to the second level. Is it different from the first? How many of me stacked up would be the size of the wall surrounding the city? Thirty, maybe?

  I don't remember how, but at some point between the awe and the processing, my feet carried me on their own. I was planted in front of a stall.

  A red fruit rested on the wood, round, with a shape that leaned toward a heart on one side. The surface reflected the sunlight in tiny points, as if it had been polished.

  "Good morning, little girl." The merchant, a man with a gray beard, leaned over the counter. "Interested in buying?"

  Katia appeared beside me, her breath slightly labored as if she had run to catch up.

  "Mio?" She looked at the fruit, then at me, then at the fruit again. "Why are you so interested in an apple?"

  My fingers touched the smooth skin. I turned the fruit slowly, observing every angle, the way the red spread into yellow in some parts, as if the colors had run over each other before drying. Even irregular, the surface seemed smooth to the touch, reflecting light in small bright spots that moved as I turned it.

  "So," my voice came out lower than I expected, "this is an apple from the Capital."

  The merchant and Katia answered at the same time:

  "It's just a common apple."

  The merchant and Katia stared at me with expressions I couldn't decipher. My gaze slid slowly to the side, to the wooden divider separating the fruits on the stall. There was another one there — same shape, same curve toward the heart.

  My finger pointed before I processed the gesture. "That one," I began, my voice still distant, "so, is that a green apple from the Capital?"

  Katia simply laughed, while the merchant scratched his head.

  "Are you buying or just looking?"

  As soon as he finished the question, he lifted his chin, his eyes leaving the apples aside to fix on something behind us.

  So it's like this here too. I put the apple back in its place and turned my face over my shoulder. Not surprising. People from outside the village used to react like this too.

  Some people had stopped. Not many — five, maybe six — but they were stopped. Looking. Their gazes collided with mine for an instant before darting away.

  Others didn't stop, but their eyes also came. A quick glance as they passed, an almost imperceptible pause in their step, and then they disappeared into the alleys between the white houses.

  Somewhere outside the present moment, something was happening. The expression of the people around — the surprise, the curiosity — began to change. In a few seconds, their eyes would suddenly widen.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Still outside the present, the collar of my shirt moved. Something seemed to have added an unusual weight to the lightness of the blouse. A thin cord — and hanging from it, a small metal pendant.

  The scene began to materialize. Katia took a step to the side, her fingers touched the back of my neck for an instant, adjusting something.

  "There!" The voice came clear, proud. "Now you have one."

  The weight I had felt before the scene happened became real. A pendant — a sword inside a cube, a cube inside a circle.

  The woman with the child on her lap was just a few steps away. The boy pointed in my direction.

  "Mom, isn't that the symbol of the southern heroes?"

  The merchant let out a muffled sound — something between a sigh and an incredulous laugh.

  "Girl," his voice rose, not exaggeratedly, but clearly enough for the people around to turn their heads, "are you with the Iceharts?"

  The buzz of the street seemed to diminish for an instant. More eyes turned to us. Not just to me — to Katia too.

  Katia, as if nothing were happening, reached out and picked up the red apple I had observed before. She offered it, extending her arm in my direction. "Do you prefer the red apple from the capital or the green apple from the capital?"

  The fruit was there. Small, round, common. Exactly like all the other apples I had seen today.

  I pondered for a bit, passing my gaze between both apples. "I'll take the red one this time."

  The following hours blurred in my head. Katia pulled me through streets that all looked the same until suddenly they didn't anymore.

  At some point we stopped at a restaurant — a wooden table on the sidewalk, under a striped awning. Katia ordered something called "pizza." When it arrived, it was a flat dough covered in red and white, steaming. My first impression was that it seemed excessively salty.

  Further on, she introduced me to the frozen treat they called gelato. Sweet, so simple it seemed impossible it had taken so long to exist in my life. The conversation continued with her explaining that the houses were white to reflect the sun.

  At some point we sat near the main tower. The structure pulsed softly against the sky, the engraved symbols so faint you could only notice them from the side. The city around continued its flow, but there, at the base of the tower, the noise seemed to require permission to exist.

  "You didn't seem to like the pizza much," she commented. "Too salty?"

  "It's that the taste was too strong," I replied, looking at the structure before us. "The gelato was better. The taste is more neutral."

  "Neutral?" She laughed. "Makes sense. Since it's almost ice, the sensation isn't as sweet when you try to eat it melted. So, what did you think?"

  I frowned, trying to put what I felt into words. "It's like my vision is trying to restructure the entire horizon to make the tower fit."

  Katia blinked, clearly not understanding. She took a while to respond. "I was talking about the city, but that works too."

  "There are few guards," I commented. "For something so important."

  Katia followed my gaze and shrugged.

  "There's no need. If someone tries to invade, they'll get lost at the first door. Or the second."

  Get lost?

  The question remained on my tongue, but didn't come out. Something in the casual way Katia said it suggested the explanation wouldn't be simple.

  Katia stretched on the bench, looking at the sun beginning to descend.

  "I think it's time to go."

  I stood up without saying anything. My body responded to the command, but every muscle seemed to weigh twice as much.

  "The energy ran out," I murmured, more to myself than to her.

  Katia laughed, jumping off the bench with the lightness of someone who still had plenty of breath left.

  "Welcome to the Capital." Katia repeated what the guard had said at the entrance, finalizing that day.

  The following days were a repetition of the same: wake up, train, eat, sleep. The routine settled in like a second skin — morning exercises, quick lunch, afternoons in the library or training field, silent dinner, the heavy sleep that came even before I lay down.

  Until, one morning, Kael called us.

  We were in the corridor when his voice echoed from the living room. He was standing by the unlit fireplace, posture erect, but there was something different in his eyes. Weariness, perhaps. Or just the anticipation of what lay ahead.

  "I need to be away for some time," he said, his voice grave. "A military expedition requires my presence outside the city."

  Katia frowned.

  "Where to this time?"

  "To Genovia." Kael adjusted his tunic's cuff, a distracted gesture. "I don't know how long I'll be gone."

  She crossed her arms, but said nothing.

  Kael looked at me for an instant, then returned his attention to his daughter.

  "I'll try to come home when possible. Or at least send letters." He paused. "Meanwhile, you continue training. Bela will take over."

  "Bela." The name hung in the air. Katia seemed to have some kind of adverse reaction.

  Kael inclined his head in a minimal gesture of approval and left, his firm footsteps echoing down the corridor until they disappeared.

  We stood there, the two of us, listening to the silence he left behind.

  The next day dawned like any other, but Kael's absence at the breakfast table was already a reminder that something had changed. And Katia was quieter than normal.

  The sound of the main door echoed through the corridor. Firm, decisive footsteps approached.

  The figure that appeared at the entrance to the dining room was tall and imposing, her dark skin contrasting with brown hair where lavender streaks escaped. In her iris, the same lavender shade as Katia's eyes, with some extra intensity.

  "Good morning," she said directly, without preamble. "Girl, put mana into the orb."

  Katia put down her cup with a sigh. "Can't we finish breakfast first?"

  "You two already seem finished." The tone was one of confirmation, with no room for negotiation. "And I don't want to waste time. If what I see doesn't please me, I'll leave. I've told Kael many times I don't have time to be a babysitter."

  Her arm seems about the size of my head. How does someone get muscles like that…? I shouldn't be thinking about that. She's very direct. In this case, I think I gain more by just doing what she said.

  I raised my hand, concentrating my mana into the orb. As when I did it for the first time, the result remained the same. Inert, without color or reaction.

  Bela frowned slightly, studying every detail of my expression and looking back at the orb.

  "Hm. Interesting. It's as Kael said," she murmured, almost to herself. "No sign of elemental affinity. Can you externalize any magic?"

  "No."

  She crossed her arms and continued observing me. The silence in the room seemed to weigh on me, making each second longer.

  "It's almost impossible for you to be accepted into the school of magic," she said, again, directly.

  "Here we go," Katia interjected into the conversation. "Aunt! You don't have to be so harsh with her. She just got here."

  "You know very well how the exam works. And I said almost. It's not that it's totally impossible." She replied to Katia, and turned back to face me. "I believe you've already realized, but there are no records of mages without elemental affinities. The entrance exam doesn't require control over your affinity, but it does require that you possess one."

  "So there is some way to pass, correct?" I said, looking directly into her eyes.

  Bela held my gaze for a long second. Then she turned, already walking toward the corridor.

  "There's nothing guaranteed." Her voice came over her shoulder. "Now, follow me."

  I got up and followed Bela through the corridors of the house. Katia came behind, her lighter steps contrasting with her aunt's firm tread. We went through the front door, and the training field opened before us.

  Bela pulled out a sword and rested it on the ground, pushing it slightly toward me.

  "Understood," I said, taking a deep breath, trying to muster courage.

  I extended my hand forward, holding the hilt of the sword she had offered me.

  "Great," Bela concluded, raising her arms, ready to train. "Then, let's begin."

  I felt a mix of anxiety and curiosity. Bela seemed imposing, but there was something in the way she observed every movement that indicated learning from her could be a challenge different from anything I had ever faced.

  "Are you ready?" Bela asked, turning to me. "I won't go easy or accept excuses if you fail."

  Katia had worry stamped on her face, perhaps because she knew Bela well enough to understand she wasn't lying.

  Kael is away for an indefinite time. I doubt he'll return before the exam, and even if he does, there won't be enough time. If I fight the way I always have, I'll probably fail.

  "Wait a moment." My voice cut through the air as my gaze fell again upon the broad sword in my hands. I turned to Katia. "You have a weapons room, right?"

  "Yes, we have an arsenal…" She frowned, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "Why?"

  Instead of answering, I rested the sword's tip on the stone floor, keeping both hands on the pommel as I observed it. The silence that followed was a question in itself.

  Katia sighed, recognizing my stubborn way of not explaining anything until I was ready. "What kind of weapon?" she asked, already turning to leave.

  "A dagger. Something light."

  She shook her head, as if doubting the sanity of my request, but disappeared down the corridor.

  The time she took was enough for me to test some basic movements with the sword, feeling its weight unbalanced for my body. When Katia returned, she brought a simple dagger with a short blade and a worn leather grip — a practical weapon, not decorative.

  "Here." She pressed the hilt firmly into my open palm, her fingers lingering on mine for an instant longer than necessary. "Do you have some kind of plan with this? Some strategy I should know about?"

  "None." The answer came immediately, dry and honest.

  Katia released my hand and twisted her whole face into an expression of pure disapproval, her lips pursing as if she had tasted something sour.

  Right, this way it'll be easier to move. And easier to create openings. I thought, closing my fingers around the dagger's hilt, feeling its natural balance.

  "I'm ready," I announced, assuming a lower stance, the dagger held firmly in my right hand while my left remained free for balance.

  Bela didn't give a warning. An almost bored sigh escaped her as she scratched the back of her neck with one hand. Then, she pointed both arms at the ground beneath her, crossing them in a firm "X," keeping both hands closed.

  The ground trembled, and fragments of deep rocks from the soil emerged, torn out by an invisible magnetic force. They flew toward Bela's clenched fists like slingshot bullets, but upon touching her closed hands, the rocks simply turned to liquid.

  The gray granite melted into a silvery, liquid glow, flowing through the air in metallic ribbons that coiled around her wrists. In the blink of an eye, the liquid metal solidified, taking shape in the air: two curved, broad blades, each attached to her fist, with the perfect, lethal form of silver half-moons. The edges didn't reflect the twilight light; they seemed to absorb it, leaving only a cutting edge so thin it hurt the eyes.

  The blades hovered for an instant, suspended by her will. Then, with an almost audible click of her joints, Bela fused them with her metal bracelets.

  Bela scratched the side of her head with her index finger, a casual gesture that contrasted with her combat-ready posture.

  "Just to be clear," she began, her voice as neutral as her expression. "I'm not going to attack you to hurt you. But," her eyes landed on the dagger in my hand, "you're holding a real blade. And I defend myself."

  "Understood," I replied, tightening my grip on the dagger's hilt.

  Bela didn't even wait. She turned her head toward Katia, who was watching from the edge of the field.

  "Katia! The count."

  Katia stepped forward, her eyes alternating between the two of us. Her voice came out more tense than usual:

  "Three… two…"

  The world seemed to slow for an instant; Katia's last number carried a series of unfolding possibilities.

  As soon as Katia finishes counting, Bela will disappear from my field of vision. Left: Empty. Right: Empty. She'll move behind me, a push aiming to knock me down. If I react beforehand, she'll anticipate my movement.

  The world slowed. The last number of Katia's count never reached my ears — in its place, a cascade of possible futures unfolded.

  The silence broke with the dry sound of Bela's sole scraping against the stone floor.

  She didn't disappear. She exploded into motion, a lateral blur that confirmed my vision. But instead of retreating, I twisted my body at the last possible instant, letting my abdomen sink inward. Her arm passed close to the fabric of my clothes, the wind of the movement cutting like a blade in itself.

  It was then that our eyes met — hers, narrowed in surprise; mine, focused beyond her pupil, at the exact point where my hand was already rising.

  In the same continuous flow of the spin, my dagger traced a silver arc toward her face.

  The sound was sharp and metallic. My dagger met one of Bela's half-moon blades, which she had positioned in front of her face in a move so fast it seemed to have happened even before my attack.

  At that exact instant, Bela propelled herself backward. Her feet left the ground the same moment our blades touched, and she landed two meters behind.

  The sudden silence was louder than the clash of the blades.

  Bela didn't seem out of breath. She didn't even seem perturbed. She just… stared. Standing, motionless, her eyes fixed on mine as if she were seeing something completely new. The seconds stretched, heavy, filled only by the accelerated beating of my heart.

  Why did she stop? My gaze turned to Katia, seeking understanding.

  Her eyes were still completely wide, a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead that didn't seem to come from the training. She was frozen, as motionless as her aunt.

  The silence was about to become unbearable when it was broken.

  It was a dry, short sound — a laugh. It wasn't mocking, nor was it joyful. It was a harsh "Hah" expelled, as if something had surprised her against her will.

  In the same instant, the half-moon blades attached to Bela's wrists dissolved. The silvery metal lost its solidity, melting into grayish smoke that dissipated into the air without a trace. Her fists opened, her fingers relaxing.

  "Enough," her voice finally sounded, cutting through the remaining tension like a blade. Firm, but without the previous coldness. "The test is over."

  "We start tomorrow. Make sure you're not late." Bela reconstructed the ground before leaving.

  Did I overdo it? But if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have been able to go to the entrance exam.

  Katia's voice came low, from behind me, laden with a strange mix of admiration and concern. "What was that?"

  "I dodged and counterattacked," I replied, slowly spinning the dagger in my hand before finally loosening my grip. My fingers ached from squeezing the hilt so hard.

  The silence that followed was so dense it almost had weight. When Katia finally spoke again, her voice came from a different place, more contained.

  "The test… wasn't about winning. It was about resilience." She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. "Aunt Bela was probably going to knock you down. Again and again. Just to see how many times you'd get up. That's how she does it."

  I turned to face her. Her face was still slightly pale, but her eyes were already recovering some of their familiar brightness.

  "And you were tense because of that?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. It seemed like a harsh method, but understandable coming from Bela.

  Katia let out a humorless laugh, looking at her own hands as if reliving a memory.

  "When it was my turn…" she began, her voice softer now, "my father and my aunt almost destroyed the entire house arguing about what the 'right limit' was. And me in the middle, trying to get up for the… thirtieth time? I lost count. Aunt Bela only stopped when my father finally grabbed her by the arm."

  She looked up, and this time there was a small, genuine smile in them.

  "Anyway… congratulations. You passed." The smile widened into something more mischievous. "And I'm so jealous."

  "Jealous?" I repeated, confused. "That I didn't have to go through all that suffering?"

  "Yes, yes!" Katia took a step forward, her answer in a slightly different intonation than usual. "Now I'll have to try twice as hard…"

  Probably Bela overdid it when it was Katia's turn… I mean, they're relatives…

  The next day, I woke up to an unpleasant surprise: every muscle in my body protested with a dull, persistent ache. Yesterday's fight, however short, had left its marks.

  I found myself on the training field under the same morning sun, with the same equipment, in the same place. At first glance, Bela's training was exactly the same as Kael's: the same mana exercises, the same physical circuits, the same combat simulations.

  The difference was minimal, almost imperceptible.

  Where Kael asked for ten repetitions, Bela demanded twenty, and her count was relentless, eliminating any repetition that wasn't perfect. The mana orb Kael used to measure control? Bela brought one that reacted to more precise inputs.

  Another day, in a mana control session, Bela put her hands on her hips and stared at me with that serious expression that always seemed to measure every detail.

  "Enough playing with these orbs," she said, her voice firm. "The magic you have is different, and spending more time trying to control something that doesn't exist here will only delay your progress."

  "So… what do I do now?" I asked, a bit hesitant.

  She stepped forward, pointing at the training field.

  "From now on, your focus will be on enhancing your body with mana and close combat. Reflexes, strength, endurance… all of that will be your foundation. If you really want to get into the school, you need to become strong in every way you can, without depending on something you can't control."

  The following seven months were a true hell. Each day was filled with physical exercises, simulated combats, runs until my body begged for rest, and endless repetitions of defense and attack techniques. The routine was exhausting, and my mind was always alert, absorbing every instruction from Bela and trying to turn my weaknesses into strength.

  Sometimes I thought the monsters described in books might be humans disguised as Bela. Words like "rest" or "slow" didn't exist. What I could infer was that the only certainty was that repetition must be done until the muscle memorized the movement, until the movement memorized the muscle, until I could execute it with my eyes closed, blindfolded, sleeping.

  But something strange happened in the midst of exhaustion. My feet began to find the ground before I thought about where to step. My arms learned the right position before correction.

  And then, finally, the day arrived. Exam day. The day when everything I had trained for would be put to the test.

  The sun had barely risen when we left the Icehart house. The Capital's streets already teemed with young people, all dressed in simple clothes, but with eyes laden with anxiety. It was impossible not to feel the pressure in the air: hundreds, perhaps thousands of apprentices heading to the same destination.

  We walked side by side, Katia and I, while Bela walked a step ahead, as if wanting to impose seriousness on the moment. She looked over her shoulder and spoke in a firm tone, but low enough for only us to hear:

  "Pay attention. The exam is divided into six stages, and each one will test an essential aspect of a mage." Bela began.

  "First, mana control. They'll measure your ability to channel and stabilize energy."

  "Then, the written test. Theory, history, laws of magic, interaction between elements. Many underestimate it, but it's where most candidates are cut."

  "I'm sure you'll get full marks on the written test," Katia said as she walked beside me. "When you weren't training, you had your face buried in some book."

  "Sorry, Katia. Once we pass the exam, I promise I'll try on clothes with you," I said, bringing my hand to my chest as an affirmative gesture.

  At first, I wasn't necessarily addicted to books. I was just desperate to try and find an explanation that justified the lack of elemental aptitude in me. The problem was that I really started not wanting to leave the library anymore after reading one or two books on magic and history.

  "Enough chit-chat. Listen to the whole explanation first." Bela continued. "Next comes the physical test. Endurance, speed."

  "Then, the defensive magic test, to assess if you can protect yourself under pressure."

  "Right after, the elemental magic test. It's mandatory, since every mage has a basic element, and the school needs to know which one."

  I felt her gaze rest on me for an instant, as if she knew exactly that this was my biggest problem.

  Unfortunately, in the seven months of training I had with Bela, I couldn't make any progress with elemental magic. I also didn't find any book that had a record of a mage without elemental magic.

  There were a few times when the description of magic didn't seem to match the elements that are normally found, but never without any element, as Kael had told me.

  "And the sixth?" Katia asked, a little more animated than I expected.

  Bela stopped, turned to us, and took a deep breath before answering:

  "The final exam. The test that separates who truly deserves to enter the school. No one ever knows what it will be, because it changes every year." Her eyes narrowed. "I've seen team battles, confrontations against summoned monsters, and even direct duels against instructors. One thing is certain: the final exam is never easy."

  The silence that followed weighed on the three of us. We could only hear the footsteps of the crowd going in the same direction.

  The exam hadn't even started yet, but it seemed like every word from Bela was already a battle in itself.

  As we walked through the Capital, I noticed there were few guards positioned, especially for an important day like this. The strangeness bothered me for an instant.

  Before I could follow up with any question, I spotted a crowd ahead.

  The courtyard where the exams would be held was packed. Hundreds of young people crowded into lines and groups, some laughing nervously, others with serious, focused expressions.

  When Bela, Katia, and I crossed the ornate iron gate, I felt eyes turn to us immediately. A murmur ran through the place, like wind carrying secrets.

  "Isn't that the Icehart daughter?" whispered a boy, his voice almost reverent.

  "And the one next to her is Bela… the two together…" completed a girl, widening her eyes.

  The words echoed around, but I noticed that, little by little, the attention changed direction. I felt lingering gazes on me, as if trying to decipher something.

  "Who's the girl next to them?" someone murmured in the midst of a group. "The one with white hair."

  Personally, I didn't care much about the comments regarding my appearance. In the village, it was common for the other children to isolate me because of it. I was more interested in the comments involving Bela and Katia.

  A bit late to think about it, but they're probably some kind of important figures in the capital.

  "Don't mind them," Katia said.

  "You know I don't care about that," I replied immediately.

  "Is that why you had no friends in the village?" Katia completed, showing a sarcastic smile.

  Bela just lifted her chin, ignoring the comments as if they were dust.

  We moved forward, crossing the crowd to the examiners' meeting point, with the weight of those stares fixed on our backs.

  On top of what looked like a stage, there was a person looking at what appeared to be a small, circular magical device on a table.

  "Who is that?" I asked Katia.

  "Selene Dauris," Bela replied, as if she knew the figure.

  "She's the vice-director. She's here for the entrance exam speech," Katia completed.

  A woman who seemed middle-aged, with long black hair streaked with gray, walked to the center of the stage. Her dark blue cloak fell in straight lines, without excess, and her gray eyes examined the crowd with almost military precision. She only had to walk to the center of the stage for the buzz to diminish, as if her very presence was enough to impose silence.

  "Good morning to all," she began the speech in an imposing tone.

  The device she had been observing before seemed to amplify the sound of her voice; I wondered how that worked.

  "As everyone is aware," Selene began, her voice echoing across the courtyard with clarity thanks to the magical device, "today is the day we will hold the entrance exam for the School of Magic. This is not a simple test of ability, but a test of determination, discipline, and courage."

  "Each stage of the exam was designed to measure fundamental aspects of what it means to be a complete mage. You will be evaluated in mana control, written test, physical endurance, defensive magic, elemental mastery, simulated combat, and a bonus exam."

  "Some of you will arrive here confident in your abilities and will leave learning the true meaning of humility. Others will discover strengths they didn't even know they possessed."

  "Above all, our school upholds that magic should be free. Those who do not achieve success today will have another chance to prove themselves in four years. Let your dreams guide you."

  "Four years?" I murmured low, as if speaking to myself.

  "If I don't succeed today, I'll only have another chance in four years?"

  "Yes," Katia replied.

  With that, she stepped back, raising a subtle gesture with her hand. The device pulsed, and a clear, firm sound — like a crystal bell being struck — indicated that the exam was officially open.

  Immediately, the courtyard exploded into movement. Nervous murmurs turned into overlapping voices, running footsteps, instructions shouted by monitors. It was organized chaos, a flood of candidates being channeled to the first testing stations.

  In the midst of that human whirlwind, I felt a light touch on my elbow.

  Katia was beside me, her face lit by an expression I knew well: part anxiety, part pure anticipation, and a spark of that fierce determination that made her who she was. She didn't need to say anything — just inclined her head toward the flow of candidates, her lavender eyes sparkling with a silent question.

  But she said it anyway, her voice low enough to be only ours amid the uproar:

  "Shall we go?"

  It was more than an invitation. It was a pact. A reminder of everything we had trained for, of all the conversations under the sunset, of all the unspoken promises.

  I looked at the crowd, then back at her. The world around us was a hurricane of expectations, fears, and ambitions.

  For Katia, I responded with a single nod.

  The exam was about to begin.