The morning Euryale left.
The sun rose slowly. Boats rested near the shore, rocking gently as if half-asleep. Shoreward Vale breathed like it always did—steady, patient, familiar.
Euryale stood at the edge of the path leading away from the village, his travel bag resting at his feet.
It was lighter than he expected.
Not because it held little—but because he had already decided what truly mattered.
Behind him, Pa checked the straps on the pack for the third time.
"Tight enough," Pa muttered. "But not too tight."
Ma adjusted the collar of Euryale's coat, smoothing it down like she had done every winter since he was small. Her hands lingered just a little longer than usual.
Silas stood a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight. Lyra sat on a rock, swinging her legs slowly, pretending not to stare too much.
No one rushed him.
No one told him to hurry.
The road would wait.
_________________________________
The sound came before anyone saw it.
A slow, steady roll of wheels.
Euryale turned his head.
From the bend in the road, a carriage emerged.
It was not grand in the way noble carriages were. There was no gold trim, no heavy banners. Instead, it was crafted of smooth dark wood, etched with faint silver lines that curved like branches.
At its door, carved carefully into the surface, was a single symbol:
A willow branch.
The carriage moved quietly, almost respectfully, as if aware it was entering a place of peace.
It stopped a short distance away.
The driver climbed down. He wore simple travel clothes and a cloak pinned with the same willow-leaf badge. His movements were calm, practiced.
He bowed—not deeply, but sincerely.
"Euryale of Shoreward Vale," he said. "By invitation of Willowwand Academy, I have come to escort you."
Euryale nodded. "Thank you."
That was all that needed to be said.
The driver stepped aside, allowing time.
He understood this moment did not belong to him.
Pa cleared his throat. "The academy sending a carriage," he said. "That means they're serious."
Euryale smiled faintly. "So it seems."
Ma stepped forward and placed a small pouch into Euryale's hands. It was heavier than it looked.
"Food for the first few days," she said. "And this—"She hesitated, then added, "Some of the silver, gold and money from the treasure. Not all. Just enough to keep you safe."
Pa reached into his coat and handed Euryale a folded piece of worn parchment.
"The map," Pa said. "The one from the treasure. Keep it hidden. Don't show it unless you must."
Euryale stared at it, surprised. "Pa—"
Pa shook his head. "It found you once. Maybe it'll guide you again."
Euryale carefully tucked both away. "Thank you."
Silas finally stepped forward. "You're really leaving."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Euryale said.
Silas swallowed. "Then… don't forget us."
Euryale met his eyes. "I won't."
Lyra stood and walked closer, hugging her knees again. "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 go ready."
Before Euryale started to walk away, Ma come hug Euryale from behind and so does everyone. Silas and Lyra crying while Ma and Pa kiss Euryale cheek.
_______________________________________
When Euryale finally lifted his bag, it felt heavier than before.
Not because of what it carried—
But because of what he was leaving behind.
He turned toward the village one last time.
The houses stood quietly. Nets hung drying in the morning air. The docks creaked softly as the tide moved in and out.
This was where he had learned to walk, talk, listen, wait and many more.
To breathe with the sea.
The sea brushed against the shore in a gentle rhythm.
Euryale paused.
He didn't kneel.
He didn't raise his hands.
He simply closed his eyes.
I'll come back, he thought.
The water answered—not with words, but with warmth.
Like a hand resting briefly against his ankle.
Then it withdrew.
Euryale stepped into the carriage.
The door closed softly.
_______________________________________
As the carriage rolled forward, Euryale looked through the small window.
Pa stood tall, one hand resting on his spear.
Ma raised her hand in farewell.
Silas waved too hard, too fast.
Lyra smiled, eyes bright.
Euryale lifted his hand.
Then the road curved.
And Shoreward Vale slipped gently out of sight.
_____________________________________
The carriage followed the river road, just as Pa had said.
Inside, it was quiet. Cushioned seats. A faint scent of wood and clean fabric.
The wheels hummed softly against the earth.
Euryale watched the water flow beside them.
Sometimes, when the road grew rough, the river seemed to calm—almost as if smoothing the way.
He did not question it.
He rested.
He thought.
At night, the carriage stopped at inns or quiet waypoints prepared by the academy. The driver spoke little, but always made sure Euryale ate and slept well.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
The land slowly changed.
Trees grew taller.
The air felt sharper, lighter.
Travelers spoke in hushed tones when they noticed the willow symbol on the carriage.
"Willowwand," some murmured.
"The academy carriage," others said.
Euryale listened.
Something inside him felt calm.
Not excited.
Not afraid.
Just… steady.
On the last night before arrival, the carriage stopped beneath a massive willow tree.
Its branches hung low, brushing the earth.
A stream flowed nearby, quiet and clear.
Euryale stepped out and sat near the water.
"You're close," he said softly.
Not to the academy.
To himself.
The water flowed on.
Unchanging.
Unafraid.
When dawn came, pale and gentle, the driver opened the carriage door.
"We arrive today," he said.
Euryale nodded and stepped inside once more.
As the carriage moved forward, the trees parted.
And somewhere ahead—
Willowwand Academy waited.
Not rushing.
Not calling.
Simply ready.
Just like the tide.