The next two weeks pass in a blur of preparation, panic, and my mom crying at everything.
I'm talking full waterworks. I fold a shirt? Tears. I eat breakfast? More tears. I exist in her general vicinity? You guessed it... tears.
"Mom," I say on day three of this emotional nightmare, "I'm going to school, not dying."
She dabs at her eyes with a dish towel. "My baby is leaving home! Going to live with nobles and royalty! What if they're mean to you? What if you don't eat enough? What if—"
"Mom. I'll be fine." I'm lying through my teeth, but she doesn't need to know that.
The bakery has become this weird shrine to my childhood. She's been pulling out baby photos, telling customers about how I'm going to Arethia University (yes, ALL the customers, even the ones who definitely don't care), and making my favorite foods like I'm about to be shipped off to war.
It's sweet. It's also making me want to crawl into the bread oven and hide.
"I'm so proud of you," she says for the millionth time, squeezing my hand across the kitchen table. "Your father would be too."
I freeze. She never talks about him. Ever.
"Mom—"
"I know he wasn't around," she continues, staring at her tea cup, "but wherever he is, I know he'd be proud of the woman you've become."
Yeah, about that. Pretty sure my god-dad who abandoned us before I was born doesn't get to have opinions about my life choices. But I just nod and squeeze her hand back because what else can I do?
The truth would break her heart.
---
Day five of prep week, Des and Pearl drag me shopping in the capital city because, I "can't show up to an elite academy looking like a flour-covered peasant."
Pearl's words, not mine.
"I like looking like a flour-covered peasant," I mutter as we walk through the marketplace. "It's my brand."
"Your brand is about to be 'scholarship student at the most prestigious academy in the kingdom,'" Des says, grinning. "Time for an upgrade."
Des and Pearl are stupidly excited about this whole situation. Des is a magic nerd who's been dreaming about Arethia University since he was like five. Pearl is ambitious and sees this as her ticket to a better life and marrying into nobility. They're both valid.
I'm just the pessimist in the corner wondering how quickly everything will fall apart.
We hit the clothing district, and Pearl immediately starts pulling dresses off racks like she's on a mission. "You need at least three formal outfits for banquets, casual wear for classes, training gear—"
"Training gear?" I interrupt. "I'm going to avoid training at all costs."
Des snorts. "Good luck with that. It's mandatory."
Of course it is.
We spend two hours trying on clothes, and I have to admit, it's kind of fun. Pearl has surprisingly good taste, and Des keeps making sarcastic commentary about the noble fashion trends ("Why do they need that many ruffles? Are they hiding weapons in there?").
I end up with a decent wardrobe that makes me look like I belong at a prestigious magic school while still being comfortable enough that I won't want to set everything on fire. Win-win.
"Okay, real talk," Pearl says as we're leaving the shop, bags in hand. "Are you guys freaking out? Because I'm freaking out."
"Same," Des admits. "I mean, we're going to be surrounded by the most powerful young mages in Astra. People who've been training since birth. And we're just... us."
"Just us" is right. Des has solid earth magic—nothing mindblowing, but reliable. Pearl has water magic that she's been practicing since she was a kid. They're both good and competent.
And then there's me, the magical disaster.
"We'll be fine," I say, trying to sound confident. "We stick together, keep our heads down, and survive. Easy."
Pearl links her arm through mine. "At least we have each other. Can you imagine doing this alone?"
Honestly? No. The thought of facing Arethia University without Des and Pearl makes me want to throw up. They're the only reason I'm not completely spiraling.
"Group pact," Des says suddenly. "No matter what happens, we have each other's backs. Deal?"
"Deal," Pearl and I say in unison.
We spend the rest of the day exploring the capital, eating street food, and pretending like we're not all terrified of what's coming. It's nice. The last bit of normal I'm going to get for a while.
---
The night before we leave, alone in my room, I do the thing I've been dreading.
I reinforce my magic restrainer spell.
Here's what you need to know about magic restrainers: they're not easy. Most mages use physical restrainers, like enchanted jewelry or clothing that limits their power output. But those can be detected, examined and removed.
I can't risk that.
So I use a magic restraining spell, woven directly into my magical core. It's like... imagine you have a massive dam holding back an ocean, and you have to constantly maintain that dam while pretending the ocean doesn't exist.
Yeah. It's exhausting.
I sit cross-legged on my bed, close my eyes, and reach inward to where my magic lives. It's always there, this massive, churning force that wants to break free. God-class power inherited from a father I've never physically met, except in my dreams, power that could level cities if I let it loose.
I can't let it loose.
The restrainer spell was already in place when I was born. My dad placed it there before leaving us. When I was three, he began to visit my dreams and that was how I learnt about him being a god and the spell. I've maintained it ever since but it needs reinforcement. Arethia University will have detection spells, magical assessments, professors who can sense power levels.
I need to be invisible.
I weave the spell tighter, layer upon layer of suppression, until my magical signature reads as barely a flicker.
It hurts. Like physically hurts, compressing that much power into something so small. My head throbs, and I taste copper in my mouth, but I push through because this is really the only thing keeping me safe.
When I'm done, I'm sweating and shaking, but the spell holds. Solid and undetectable.
I test it by releasing a tiny thread of magic, just enough to light the candle on my nightstand. The flame comes to life, weak and pathetic.
Perfect.
I am now officially the most underwhelming mage in the Kingdom of Astra.
There's a knock on my door, and Mom peeks in. "Amara? Are you okay? I heard—"
"I'm fine," I say quickly, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "Just... practicing some basic spells."
She smiles, but there's worry in her eyes. "Don't push yourself too hard, sweetheart. You don't have to prove anything to anyone."
If only she knew.
"I know, Mom. I'm just... preparing."
She kisses my forehead and leaves, and I'm alone again with my secrets and my fear and the knowledge that in one week, I'm walking into the most dangerous place I could possibly be.
I look at the acceptance letter on my desk, at the royal seal glowing faintly with magic, and I make myself a promise:
I will survive this. I will keep my secret. I will stay invisible.
No matter what it takes.
---
The morning is gray and cold, and Mom hugs me so tight I think my ribs might crack. "Be safe," she whispers. "Be smart. And Amara?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't forget who you are."
I almost laugh. If only she knew that forgetting who I am is literally the entire plan.
"I won't, Mom. I promise."
Des, Pearl, and I meet at the town square where a royal carriage is waiting to take us and the other scholarship students to Arethia University.
We climb in, and as the carriage starts moving, I look back at my town. At the bakery. At my mom waving with tears streaming down her face.
This is it. The end of my normal life.
The beginning of whatever disaster comes next.
Pearl squeezes my hand. "Ready?"
I look at her, then at Des, then out the window at the road ahead.
"Absolutely not," I say.
Des grins. "Same."