The warm scent of old parchment and polished wood greeted Lira as she stepped into Grandmaster Elion's study, Thara walking beside her. The tall windows cast slanted light across shelves of tomes and strange glowing instruments, and behind the desk, Elion looked up from a scroll, his silver-threaded beard catching the glow.
"Lira, Thara," he said, setting the scroll aside. "Come in."
Thara gave a respectful nod and began, her tone steady. "We've come to speak with you about something unusual—concerning the fox that's been appearing near the forest border."
Elion leaned back, hands folded. "Go on."
Thara described the fox's behavior—how it had led them to and from the grove, how it waited, watched, and seemed connected to Lira. Lira stayed quiet about her dream and the glowing book, but listened as Thara painted the picture carefully.
Elion's gaze turned to Lira. "And you… how do you feel about the fox?"
Lira hesitated, then answered honestly, "It feels like it's watching over me. Like it's… guiding me. But I don't fully understand it yet."
The Grandmaster was silent for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully. "The old texts speak of beings like this. Spirits or guardians that choose someone gifted… or burdened." He rose and moved to a drawer behind his desk, opening it and drawing out a small, intricate medallion carved with sigils.
"This will be your protection," he said, placing it in Lira's hand. "If anything happens while you follow this fox—any real threat—it will activate. If it's minor, it will shield you. If the danger is too great… it will bring you directly here, to my study."
Lira looked down at the medallion, its center stone pulsing faintly with energy.
"We'll test this," Elion said. "Next time the fox comes, follow it. Let's see where it leads and if it continues to guide you."
Thara added gently, "Only if you feel ready."
"I do," Lira replied, her fingers curling around the medallion.
Elion smiled, though it was the kind that held ancient knowledge and caution. "Good. Then may the path ahead open for you… and may you walk it wisely."
As they stepped out of the Grandmaster's office, the hallway seemed quieter than before. The stained-glass windows filtered soft hues across the floor as Thara turned to Lira.
"So," Thara asked, "will you go tomorrow?"
Lira nodded, her voice calm but resolute. "Yes. In the morning."
Thara gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Rest well tonight. And trust the bond—you're not alone."
Lira offered a quiet smile and turned toward her quarters.
Back in the stillness of her room, she closed the door and exhaled slowly. The soft hum of enchantments that protected the academy buzzed faintly in the air. She crossed to her desk, where the green-covered book lay waiting. Its edges shimmered with a faint, silvery glow.
She opened it carefully—and paused.
A new page was forming.
The parchment looked fogged over, like breath on glass, and shapes began to emerge within the mist. Lines curled gently, sketching the shape of a fox—its ears upright, tail flowing like smoke. But the image was incomplete, still drawing itself as if responding to something deeper than ink or memory.
Lira's breath caught. It's recording what I know… or what I'm beginning to understand, she thought.
No words appeared—only the beginnings of an image. But she could feel the quiet weight of meaning behind it. This fox was no ordinary creature. It was being etched into her path.
She touched the edge of the page with her fingertips. "I'll find out who you are," she whispered.
Then, gently closing the book, she settled into bed, the protective amulet resting near her heart.
Tomorrow, the forest would speak again.
*
Morning mist lingered in the air as Lira walked quietly toward the forest border, the protective amulet resting cool and comforting against her chest. Her boots made soft sounds on the dew-covered ground, and a soft breeze stirred the leaves.
As she approached the edge where the fog curled and waited, she saw it—just as she had hoped. The fox was there, sitting calmly at the border like a small flame in the grey veil. Its gaze met hers, unwavering and ancient, and then it stood.
Without a word, Lira followed.
The fox slipped into the forest fog, its movements quiet and certain. Every now and then, when Lira slowed to navigate a twisted root or hesitated near a thick patch of mist, the fox would stop and glance back—waiting. Only when she caught up did it begin to move again, pacing the rhythm of the journey to match her own.
They passed under ancient trees, some gnarled and heavy with moss. The deeper they went, the thicker the fog became, curling like breath from the forest itself. Soon, the shadows of the ruins rose around them—silent sentinels of forgotten times. Stones whispered secrets beneath creeping vines.
Without pause, the fox trotted through the broken hallways, weaving through crumbled pillars and moss-draped arches. Lira followed, her amulet gently pulsing with warmth against her chest, never once pulling her back. She trusted it would protect her if needed.
At last, they reached the portal.
The air shimmered faintly between the stones, and the fox stepped through first. Lira took a breath, then followed—and as always, the world around her shifted.
And there it was: the sacred grove. The massive tree stretched above them, its roots like soft hills across the forest floor. The brewing table rested in its shade, untouched yet somehow prepared for her. Flowers bloomed, leaves danced, and the air was thick with the scent of herbs and old magic.
The fox walked ahead and curled itself under the tree on the roots, just as it had before, watching her briefly before settling into sleep.
Lira stepped forward, her hand brushing the edge of the table. The plants were fresh again, vibrant and full of potential. It was like the grove breathed with its own rhythm, renewing itself between visits.
She was ready to learn again.
Lira began her work in silence, letting her hands move instinctively—selecting herbs, preparing the tools, heating the mixtures. One potion after another took form beneath her fingertips. The familiar bubbling, the changing hues, and the heady mixture of herbal scents filled the grove like incense in an ancient temple.
Time felt distant here—soft and stretched. Though her body moved with steady purpose, her mind wandered deeper into each brew, each combination. Hours must have passed, but it felt more like slipping between moments.
The smell of potions grew rich and complex—sweet notes of calming draughts, sharp hints of protective brews, the bitter edge of energizing elixirs. Her fingers were stained with crushed leaves and glimmering dusts, but she didn't stop until she noticed something peculiar.
Where she had plucked the last blossom, a fresh one bloomed. Where the root had been peeled, a new one lay in its place. The table never emptied. It was as though the grove itself wished for her to keep going.
A quiet awe filled her as she gently capped each finished potion and tucked them carefully into the leather pouch at her waist. She had to leave a few behind—there were simply too many. With a soft cloth, she wiped the tools, straightened the jars, and tidied the space as best she could, out of respect.
Then, before leaving, she paused and glanced at the fox still sleeping by the tree.
"Thank you," she whispered.
It didn't stir, but she sensed it had heard.
With her pouch heavy with crafted potions and her spirit calm and determined, Lira turned toward the portal once more.
As Lira and the fox stepped quietly from the forest's edge, the fog curled gently behind them and faded like a breath into the morning light. At the border, she paused and turned toward the fox. It had stopped too, watching her with those wise, flickering eyes.
With a small, respectful bow, Lira acknowledged it.
The fox bowed its head back, just slightly, before silently turning and disappearing into the woods once more.
Though Lira had spent what felt like an entire day brewing in the grove, the world outside had barely moved. Morning birds still called to each other, and soft light filtered through the trees.
She made her way back to her room and carefully placed her potions on the shelf—each one labeled, arranged by type, and glowing faintly with the warmth of the grove's magic. The organization soothed her, as did the knowledge that each potion was better than the last.
After a quick breath and a splash of water on her face, she grabbed her notes and headed off to her remaining classes. As she slid into her seat, no one even turned to look—no professor questioned her absence, no student whispered behind her back.
The secret of the portal was safe.
And Lira smiled softly to herself, knowing that she had already lived a full day before the world had even begun to stir.
After her final class ended, Lira gathered her things and was about to head back to her room when she overheard a group of students talking near the courtyard steps.
"They're holding another training session today," one of them said. "For students struggling with control or basic application—mostly first years, but anyone can join."
That caught Lira's attention.
Her elemental abilities were still unpredictable. While her connection to herbs and potions was growing stronger by the day, her command over elemental defense or offensive forms felt clumsy—like trying to shape wind with bare hands. She knew if she ever found herself in danger outside of the grove or school grounds, she needed more than instinct.
She turned toward the training field.
Maybe it's time I face this, too, she thought.
The class was already gathering when she arrived—students lined up in rows while an instructor demonstrated breathing and focus techniques. Some were practicing shaping flames or moving small stones with precision, others struggling to hold barriers made of water or air.
Lira took a quiet place toward the back, watching for a moment before joining in. Her hands were unsure at first, her focus flickering—but the grove had given her new discipline, and with it, she steadied.
She would learn this too—bit by bit.
Not for power, but for balance. For readiness. For the journey ahead.