The days leading up to his departure were rather uneventful. Most of the time was spent studying up on as much runic science as he could. The ring turned out to be less useful than he thought.

  After some reluctance, he decided to use the ring. In the moment it seemed beyond useful, he had used it to memorize large portions of the textbooks. Even though he didn’t entirely understand the material, he found he could recite each page perfectly.

  But when he would stop feeding the ring soul, all that collected knowledge would fade away. It seemed the enchantment needed constant activation to maintain the effects.

  ‘There goes any hope of getting a leg up on potential classmates.’

  The drain on his soul was also a problem. Being a weaver meant he could manipulate his soul, a rare gift less than a fifth of the population possessed. Being able to control your soul also meant you were aware of how much of it you lost.

  With some guidance from Seline, he had learned how to form threads from his soul. She had also taught him how to tell the amount of time he lost each time he used it.

  The ring required constant activation, so for every minute he had it active, he lost another three minutes of his lifespan.

  ‘Greedy little trinket…’

  Leaning back in his fathers old chair, he stared at Julian’s journal. The ring was no help with it, even if he memorized every page, the meaning behind the theorems would still be lost on him.

  Flipping through its confines, Soren stopped at one of the more recent pages. One of the last entries Julian had talked about how he was nearing a breakthrough. He mentioned unlocking the true form of a sequence, an awakening that would push humanity into its perfect form.

  ‘Did he go mad too? Maybe the same thing that drove Killian mad, was now pushing Julian to insanity… Or maybe old age has finally caught up to him.’

  Either way Soren still needed to get answers from him, the journal was still an incredible bartending chip. The problem now lied with reaching him before that group of killers.

  After the commotion he caused in Zelona, there was no real way for him to get to Julian. Even being a lower branch member, he was still considered royalty.

  Julian would be keeping himself well guarded, he also most likely knew about the missing journal. Which meant people would be out looking for Soren, thankfully the only person to see his face was now dead.

  The death of the lieutenant would definitely leave the keepers on edge, not only did one of their own die, but the culprit was still at large. Thanks to the fire Soren had set, the evidence they had was little. So finding him would be challenging.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t lost the hook though…’

  Indeed it was a shame, the grappling device had been a very trusty tool in his arsenal. Even though its design was clunky and the rune grafting was far from efficient. It still had been one of the first things he made that actually worked.

  It was by far his most complex tool, he had configured the hook to sense certain twitching in his muscles, which allowed the device to react quickly and precisely. Though, that gimmick of his seemed to backfire during his escape. Each time he was struck while using the device, it would recall itself, sensing the tension in his arm.

  Building another one would take a lot of time, not to mention securing the proper materials. The academy would have most of what he needed, but procuring vials of soul would be hard. During his battle with the lieutenant, he lost nearly all the remaining vials he had.

  ‘How am I supposed to get more? I used the last of Killian’s stash already…’

  Closing the journal, Soren walked out of the study. The house was silent, Seline had already departed for the academy. Instructors weren’t allowed to leave the academy grounds often, but she was one of those people who had a hard time following instruction.

  Callagen was busy as always with his work, this left Soren with nothing else to keep himself busy with. He had tried and failed to understand Julian’s work, he attempted to cram as much knowledge in his head as he could, all that was left was to pack his belongings.

  Before he ascended the stairs, his gaze wandered to a window facing a large tree. Feeling a tug at his heart, he let out a deep sigh.

  ‘... One last goodbye…’

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Stepping out into the cold embrace of winter, Soren watched the sun slowly descending past the horizon. Looking back to the tree, he walked closer, sitting down in front of a set of graves. Silence sat heavy on the air, only occasionally being broken by the wailing of frigid wind.

  “… I guess this is it…”

  Letting out a shaky breath, he hung his head low.

  “Sometimes I wish I had died along with you all… All of this is just too much, I don’t know how I'm supposed to handle it.”

  Raising his head slightly, he focused on one of the larger graves.

  “You would have done a lot better if you were in my shoes. You were always the smartest of us Alice… You always seemed so strong, even when you were scared.”

  Gripping his shoulders tightly, he lowered his head once more.

  “How did you do it? How did you always stay so brave? I want to be like you Alice, I really do… But I can’t. I'm so scared, how am I supposed to do this?”

  Silent tears fell from his eyes.

  “I’m not like you! I’m not brave! I know I said I wouldn’t be a coward, I just…”

  Trembling slightly, as tears continued to fall.

  “Why did it have to be me?”

  There was no one to answer his desperate pleas, no one to lend him a shoulder. He was alone. Calling out to souls that had long left this world, hoping for an answer. He had tried so hard to be strong, but when push came to shove… He ran.

  He could wear a mask, leap from building to building, but he would never be a hero. Heroes don’t run from injustice, they don’t let crimes against children continue on. They don’t wait for it to become someone else's problem.

  But he wasn’t a hero, he was an angry boy. He didn’t want justice, no, he only cared about revenge.

  “I’m not you Alice… If I want to make things right, then I can’t let myself be you.”

  Once all the tears had fallen, he stood up, giving the graves one last look.

  “... I’m sorry.”

  …

  Sitting on a metal bench, Soren waited for the train to arrive. He had collected all of his important belongings last night. It wasn’t much, some clothes and a few sentimental items.

  Fidgeting with a dark ring on his index finger, Soren found himself incredibly anxious. Ever since he was a child he had wanted to attend the academy, learn all he could, becoming a renowned scholar. Now that day had come.

  But the reasons for going had long changed. Where childish dreams of greatness once were, now only necessity remained. Becoming a powerful weaver was necessary to take on the challenges that lay ahead.

  ‘I can do this… I have to, for their sake.’

  The loud whistle of the train pulled him out of his deep thoughts.

  Standing up from the bench, he picked up his suitcase. Rushing to board the train, he pushed through crowds of people. As he stepped on board the train cart, he found an empty seat, setting his belongings down.

  It took a few minutes for the train to begin its departure, the train was especially packed today. Of course there were the usual passengers heading to work, but a few were young teens like himself.

  Hopeful youth, ready to take on the challenges the academy threw at them, hoping to make it to the top.

  ‘I wonder if any of us will pass the aptitude test?’

  Depending on if he passed the aptitude test, Soren could be placed in one of the advanced combat classes. Failing it on the other hand, would probably land him in a research or engendering class.

  ‘Who knows… I might be able to attend one of Saint Vander’s classes. With someone like him teaching me, Julian wouldn’t be able to stop what I have in store for him.’

  All of that was wishful thinking, Saint Vander was one of the strongest weavers alive. His classes were mainly reserved for children of the great families. Though, it couldn’t hurt to hope.

  Once everyone had boarded, the train began its departure. The low rumble of the engine began, as the snowy rooftops of Ravenshollow were left behind.

  The trip took several hours, the academy rested at the center of the country, some even called it the heart of the city. As it came into view, he understood why.

  The academy was incredibly large, It was a mass of interconnected buildings, with large open areas. The buildings ranged in shape and size, but most of them still shared the same design.

  Dark stone walls, plenty of large pointed windows, soaring towers, the academy looked like it came directly from a story book. All of it was surrounded by a massive wall, separating it from the surrounding city.

  ‘I knew it was big, but this is just…’

  Absurd… St. Luminos had already intimidated Soren before, but now he didn’t even know how to feel. Impressed, scared, or nervous? Looking at the few other students, it seemed they shared his feelings.

  Coming to a stop, he along with the other youth, exited the train. Greeted by pleasantly cool air, a stark contrast to the frigid winds of Ravenshollow, he felt a bit more comfortable.

  ‘At least I don’t have to worry about the cold.’

  A large group of students poured out of the cabins, eager expressions on their faces. They began to crowd together, chatting amongst themselves. Slowly moving out of the train station.

  Not wanting to be left behind, Soren quickly followed after, doing his best to keep a respectable distance from the crowd. As they all continued forward, they were treated by the bustling city streets and the looming walls of the academy.