Afternoon.
Fishing boats rested by the shore, nets drying in the sun. The sea rolled in slow, steady waves, calm and familiar.
Euryale was helping Pa unload baskets of fish when a voice called from the dirt road leading into the village.
"Shoreward Vale."
Everyone nearby turned.
A man stood at the edge of the path. He wore a long blue-gray coat with simple silver stitching along the edges. A leather satchel rested at his side. He did not look noble, nor poor—just official.
"I am looking for Euryale of Shoreward Vale," the man said.
Pa straightened. "That's my son."
The man nodded and stepped closer. His boots barely disturbed the sand.
"I carry a letter," he said, pulling an envelope from his satchel. "From Willowwand Academy."
Euryale froze.
The name felt heavy, like a tide pressing against his chest.
The envelope looked plain, but the seal shimmered faintly, like light reflected on water.
"This academy," the man continued, "seeks those whose water affinity is strong and steady. You have been observed."
Euryale accepted the letter carefully. The moment his fingers touched it, a calm sensation spread through him—like standing waist-deep in the sea at dawn.
"You are not required to respond immediately," the messenger said. "Your departure, if you accept, will be in one month. The journey itself will take another."
With that, he bowed once and turned back down the road.
When Euryale looked again, the man was already far away.
That night, Euryale sat at the table with Pa and Ma.
The letter lay open between them.
Euryale of Shoreward Vale,
You are invited to attend Willowwand Academy, a place of learning for those attuned to nature's deeper flows—especially water.
Your affinity has been noted for its clarity and restraint.
Should you accept, prepare to depart in one month.Travel will take an additional month by sea and land routes.
Come as you are.Titles are not required.
Ma folded the letter neatly.
"So," she said gently, "it's real."
Pa leaned back in his chair. "Willowwand Academy doesn't send letters lightly."
Euryale nodded. "I don't know what I'll find there."
Pa met his eyes. "You don't need to. You just need to be ready."
The days that followed passed quietly.
Euryale helped the villagers as usual—mending nets, carrying supplies, guiding boats in during rough tides. Nothing changed, and yet everything felt different.
At dusk, he walked the shore alone.
The sea felt… aware.
Not stronger. Not louder.
Just present.
As if it knew he would be leaving.
At night, Ma prepared clothes—simple, durable things. Pa taught him how to pack light, how to travel without drawing attention, how to listen more than he spoke.
The month slipped by faster than Euryale expected.
One evening, as the sun dipped low, Silas finally broke the silence.
Silas let out a breath."You're really leaving."
Lyra hugged her knees."For how long?"
Euryale looked at Pa and Ma.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
Ma reached over and squeezed his hand."Then you'll come back when you can."
Pa nodded."And when you go, you ready."
Silas tried to act normal and failed.
"So," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "if you become famous, remember me."
Lyra frowned."Don't forget us."
Euryale smiled softly."I won't."
That night, the sea pulled back farther than usual.
Stone steps revealed themselves where water had been, stretching toward the horizon. At the far end, a faint glow shimmered—an unspoken promise of the road ahead.
Euryale stood at the shore, listening to the waves.
One month until departure.
One month of travel.
And beyond that—Willowwand Academy.