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Three weeks after his awakening, Zephyr stood at the edge of Brightmoor town, preparing to leave everything he had ever known behind.
He hadn't been accepted into any of the prestigious academies, nor invited to join any elite taming corps. But there was one place that had agreed to take him. It was called Lowmoor Academy. It wasn't built for legends. It was a place for the forgotten: low rank tamers, feed farmers, stable hands, and beast workers. The kind of people who existed in the shadow of true power.
His acceptance wasn't earned through talent or achievement. It was a courtesy, a quiet recommendation passed down by Lady Alira Ves after her unexpected visit. They wouldn't train him to fight, and they wouldn't teach him to tame dangerous creatures. But they would give him shelter, a barn to clean, beasts to feed, and a stable boy's apron. It was enough for his parents.
So… His mother packed his coat without a word, her fingers folding the fabric with care, eyes misted but dry. His father stood at the door, arms crossed, jaw clenched as if holding back everything he wanted to say.
"Come back stronger," his father finally said.
Zephyr didn't reply. He only nodded.
Outside, the merchant's cart waited for him. It was wooden, creaky, piled high with sacks of feed and crates of preserved roots. The driver spat into the snow and jerked his thumb toward the back. Zephyr moved to climb aboard when a familiar voice called from behind him.
"Wait."
He turned, and there she was, Fenna Dale.
She carried a small pack slung over one shoulder and wore a light green cloak stitched with beast mark sigils along the sleeves. Her long chestnut-brown hair was tied in a ponytail, swaying gently in the breeze, and a soft green ribbon bound it tight. Her hazel eyes met him with quiet certainty.
"I'm going with you," she said.
He blinked. "Fenna... you don't have to…"
"I know." She stepped forward, her boots crunching through the frost. "But I want to. I am also an awakened tamer. A-Rank." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "They offered me a place at Lowmoor Academy."
Zephyr couldn't hide his shock. " You are an A-Rank. You can join a better academy. Why do you want to waste your talents? "
She smiled sheepishly. "Guess…" then she continued, "I want to be with you. Ahem! I mean I can accompany you in an unknown place. We are childhood friends. We will look after eachother. It's that sound good?"
He stared at her, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. There was none.
She reached for his hand. "Besides, you didn't really think I was going to let you face this alone, did you?"
His throat tightened, and the wind suddenly felt warmer. "No," he whispered. "I guess not."
They climbed into the cart together, side by side beneath a shared blanket of snow dusted cloth. As the cart rumbled down the path out of Brightmoor, away from the fields and broken dreams and toward whatever lay ahead, Zephyr looked over at the girl who had always stood beside him.
And for the first time since his awakening, he didn't feel alone.
The wheels of the rickety cart screeched against the dirt trail as the misty horizon swallowed Brightmoor behind them. Zephyr sat near the back, legs tucked close, arms resting over his satchel. Beside him, Fenna adjusted the hood of her cloak, her chestnut ponytail slipping free beneath it. The cold gnawed at them both, but neither spoke. Not yet.
Snow fell lightly over the fields, the silence between them filled only by the creaking of old wood and the distant caws of mana-crows above.
Zephyr glanced at her. "Still time to jump off and go back."
Fenna gave him a side eye glance. "You say that like I was ever here for anyone else."
He smiled faintly but said nothing. Lowmoor academy wasn't far, just a six hours journey by merchant cart. But the road felt longer. Like it was dragging them not just away from home, but toward something they couldn't quite name.
They passed frost draped trees and beast grazing posts long abandoned for the winter. For a while, they rode in silence again, until Fenna spoke.
"I read about Lowmoor academy last night," she said, shifting in her seat. "It started as a beast hospice during the southern wars. They only turned it into an academy after the war ended and no one else wanted the land."
"Makes sense," Zephyr muttered. "It smells like it."
She elbowed him. "It's not so bad. It's somewhere to start."
"For you, maybe," he said, bitterly creeping into his voice. "You're an A-rank. They'll teach you how to handle elite beast lines, maybe even offer a scholarship. I'm just feeding the things."
Fenna looked at him. Her hazel eyes softened. "Then you'll be the best beast feeder they've ever seen."
Before he could respond, the cart jolted to a stop. The walls of Lowmoor academy rose before them. It was low, gray stone streaked with moss and soot. No towers. No guards in shining armor. Just a wooden gate with two half-frozen guards yawning behind worn scarves.
Above them, a weather-stained sign read: Lowmoor Academy of Beast Professions
The driver grunted. "End of the line, brats. Time to say goodbye."
Zephyr stepped down, boots crunching in the snow. Fenna followed, pulling her small pack over her shoulder.
A stocky guard holding a clipboard squinted at them. "Names?"
"Zephyr Valorian. Fenna Dale," she replied confidently.
The guard flipped through the board, eyebrows lifting. "F-rank utility… and huh… A-rank. Are you two related?"
"No, not yet" Fenna said quickly, stepping closer to Zephyr. She holds his hands tightly to her chest then, "We're together."
Zephyr nearly choked, but the guard just snorted and handed them two brass tags.