18 - Result

The week following Anna’s admission test—and Luna’s clandestine spar with the vice principal—unfolded like a patchwork quilt of small adventures, laughter, and fleeting worries.

For Anna, it was a reprieve from months of tireless preparation, for Luna, it was a strange mixture of indulgence and restraint, of rediscovering the joy of ordinary days while quietly hiding extraordinary truths.

But though the days seemed calm on the surface, ripples stirred beneath.

Eveline’s sharp eyes saw more than she admitted aloud, whispers traveled through the city like mischievous spirits, and Luna herself was beginning to notice signs she could not yet interpret.

The morning after the long night of celebration, Eveline’s stern reprimand rang in their ears.

Anna endured it with the sheepish air of a child caught sneaking sweets before dinner, while Luna slouched on the sofa, feigning exhaustion as though she had been dragged across deserts and mountains.

“You celebrated until dawn and then slept until midday,” Eveline scolded, hands planted firmly on her hips. “What example does that set for a young lady of your status? And you—” Her gaze snapped to Luna, sharp enough to cut glass. “You encourage her.”

Luna raised both hands as if surrendering, her lips quirking. “I didn’t encourage her, Miss Tutor. She encouraged me. I merely participated.”

Eveline’s eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, Anna intervened with a practiced, almost diplomatic smile. “It was only one night, Miss Eveline. And I… I couldn’t help myself. I felt relieved after the exam. You understand, don’t you?”

Reluctantly, Eveline sighed and dropped the subject, though not without a mutter about the irresponsibility of “certain people who looked far too innocent for their own good.”

Luna, entirely unbothered, declared that she would spend the entire day resting. “I’ve done plenty already,” she said, stretching across her bed like a cat claiming its rightful territory. “I’ll just… be here. Breathing. Eating maybe. Sleeping definitely.”

But Anna had other plans. “No, Luna,” she said, determination bright in her eyes. “We’re going out.”

Luna groaned theatrically. “Out? Again? You want to slay me with effort? I barely survived your tutor’s scolding.”

“Please? Just for today. We’ll go shopping. I want to look at dresses—and you’ll look adorable in them too!” Anna clasped her hands together in mock prayer. “Consider it… sisterly bonding.”

That word—sisterly—made Luna hesitate. It tugged at something warm inside her chest, something that weakened her usual stubbornness. She sighed, pulling the blanket over her face.

“You won’t give up, will you?”

“No.”

“Fine. But if I collapse from sheer laziness-deprivation, it will be your fault.”

“Deal.”

And so, the two ventured out.

The streets of Celestia were bustling with late-morning activity. Carriages rattled by, vendors hawked their goods from colorful stalls, and the scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with the sharp tang of enchanted oils.

They visited clothing shops first, stepping into boutiques where silk gowns shimmered like pools of moonlight and velvet cloaks gleamed with embroidered runes.

They tried on garments but purchased none.

For Anna, it was a chance to imagine the different versions of herself she might present at the Academy.

For Luna, it was play. She preened in front of mirrors with smug expressions, tugging at frills or tilting hats at rakish angles, earning bursts of laughter from Anna.

The shopkeepers, far from annoyed by their lack of purchases, found themselves charmed. “Like little fairies,” one whispered to another, watching as Luna twirled in a dress too big for her frame. “Makes you forget the weight of the day.”

By the time afternoon stretched into evening, Anna was still radiant with energy, while Luna’s grin was softer, more content than she realized.

When Anna suggested they rest, Luna—betraying her own supposedly infinite laziness—enthusiastically pushed her toward a small café nestled on a side street.

The air inside was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon. Luna ordered cake with the swiftness of a general issuing commands, while Anna settled for tea.

“Do you never tire of sweets?” Anna asked, watching Luna with half-concern and half-amusement.

“No,” Luna replied flatly, forking a bite of her cake. “Sweets are life. Without them, existence is bleak and flavorless. Like unsalted soup.”

Anna rolled her eyes but smiled all the same. “Then I suppose I’ll always know where to find you—in the nearest bakery.”

“Precisely.” Luna grinned smugly, a smear of cream at the corner of her mouth.

The next morning dawned bright, and Anna’s enthusiasm remained undimmed.

This time, she coaxed Luna into visiting a magician’s store—a vast emporium where every wall, shelf, and glass case glittered with the artifacts of arcane craft.

Runes etched in crystal pulsed faintly with blue light. Grimoires rested on pedestals like slumbering beasts, their covers bound with locks of silver or chains of gold. Mana stones glimmered in neat rows, while wands and staffs stood displayed like regal soldiers.

Luna stopped at the threshold, eyes wide. “It’s… like a candy shop. But for mages.”

Anna’s chest puffed with pride at Luna’s awe. “Impressive, isn’t it? Celestia is famous for its magical markets. This is only one of the mid-sized shops. Wait until you see the grand ones.”

The two explored aisle after aisle.

Anna gravitated toward flame-imbued tools, her fingers brushing reverently over a staff etched with phoenix feathers.

Luna, however, wandered with the unselfconscious curiosity of someone who did not see tools but toys.

At last, Anna noticed something odd. “Luna,” she said cautiously, “why don’t you carry a wand? Or a staff?”

Luna blinked. “Why would I?”

“Because… because they’re essential! They help channel and stabilize magic. Without one, even skilled mages risk losing control.”

“Oh.” Luna tilted her head, then, with casual ease, extended her hand. Frost swirled in the air, and from it formed a staff of crystalline ice—tall, elegant, and gleaming with sharp beauty.

The store fell silent. Customers turned. The shopkeeper, a level six wind mage, nearly dropped the ledger in his hands.

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Luna… that’s… beautiful.” She circled the staff, eyes wide with admiration. “Majestic even. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Luna flushed faintly, though she tried to cover it with smugness. “Well… if I need a staff, I can just make one. Simple.”

Her nonchalance was thunder to the shopkeeper’s ears.

For him, the creation of a staff was a sacred, laborious art—requiring weeks, sometimes months, of precision and rare materials.

Even a grade B staff demanded extraordinary effort. But this girl had conjured a weapon surpassing grade A, perhaps even grade S, in a heartbeat.

Who was she?

Eveline, who had followed quietly, watched the scene with tightening lips.

Each demonstration only added weight to the suspicion she tried so hard to deny, that Luna was the mysterious mage who had sparred with William Terra.

Anna, oblivious to the tension around them, praised Luna again and again until Luna’s ears burned.

Finally, Anna purchased a grimoire tailored for fire mages, and Luna—predictably—dragged her to a candy shop afterward.

By the time they returned to the inn, Anna was clutching her book with pride, and Luna was munching sugared jellies like trophies of war.

On the third day, they explored the city itself. No destination, no plan—just wandering through winding streets as if sketching Celestia into their minds.

They chased after a stray cat, laughing breathlessly when it darted into a bakery and emerged with crumbs clinging to its whiskers.

They rested in a park, eating bread filled with fruit jelly that stained their lips with sweetness.

Luna found herself watching Anna’s laughter more than the scenery.

The girl’s joy was unguarded, free, like sunlight spilling through leaves. It reminded Luna of what she had once thought impossible, that someone could still be untainted by ambition or fear in a world so hungry for power.

By late afternoon, Anna’s legs ached from walking, but Anna didn’t complain.

They lingered by fountains, fed birds with scraps, and marveled at street performers weaving illusions into the air.

And, of course, when hunger returned, Luna steered them toward another bakery. Anna sighed but followed, resigned to her companion’s incurable sweet tooth.

The days passed quickly in Celestia, each carrying a rhythm of laughter and small wonders, as though Anna and Luna had carved out a pocket of peace in the bustling city.

But even the gentlest rivers conceal currents beneath the surface, and their week was destined to swell with ripples that neither girl could ignore.

By their fourth day of wandering, Anna had suggested they explore the grand marketplace they had glimpsed earlier in the week.

“Yesterday we were too late, and it was far too crowded,” Anna reasoned as she straightened her gloves. “But if we go this morning, we might actually enjoy ourselves.”

Luna needed no persuasion. “Fine,” she said with exaggerated reluctance, though her nose twitched as she remembered the delicious aroma she’d caught last time. “But only because my instincts tell me sweets are hidden there.”

The market was alive with a different kind of magic than the academies or mage shops. Here, the stalls leaned into each other like old friends, their awnings bright with dye and patched from long use.

Merchants shouted their wares in voices that competed with the bray of donkeys, the laughter of children, and the clang of pans.

Anna darted from stall to stall, her eyes wide. She admired glasswork spun as thin as spiderwebs, silver rings carved with protective runes, and bolts of fabric shimmering with threads of gold.

Luna followed at a slower pace, her attention stolen by small, practical things, a polished pocket mirror, a sturdy compass, a hairpin shaped like a water lily. She held each object up to the light as if testing its worth not just for beauty but for survival.

By midday, their hands were full of trinkets. Anna giggled as she tucked a tiny music box into her satchel, while Luna examined a brass pocket watch with a face etched in constellations.

“You’re preparing for your travels, aren’t you?” Anna said knowingly.

Her smile faltered as the words left her mouth. The playful lilt in her tone couldn’t hide the flicker of sadness in her eyes.

She had grown used to Luna’s presence, to their banter, to the strange comfort of having her near.

The thought that all of this was only temporary—that Luna would one day leave—pressed heavy on her chest.

Luna paused, glancing at Anna. The way the girl clutched the small music box in her hands, as if holding on to something fragile, made the air between them feel heavier.

Luna tucked the watch into her pouch with a small shrug. “Better to have what you need before you realize you need it.” She glanced at Anna then, her voice lowering. “Doesn’t mean I’m rushing off tomorrow, you know.”

It was then that Luna felt it, a prickle at the back of her neck, sharp as a drop of ice sliding down her skin.

Her gaze swept the rooftops, and there—a figure, distant but clear, watching from above. Cloaked, motionless, a shadow against the morning sky.

Luna’s instincts flared. Her eyes narrowed, locking with the figure’s. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw a smile curve across the shadowed face. Then, like smoke in the wind, the figure was gone.

Her hand twitched toward a spell, but she stopped. Anna was beside her, humming happily as she admired a jeweled brooch. The crowded market buzzed with life. Whoever it was, they hadn’t attacked. Not yet.

Still, Luna’s wariness lingered. She chewed the thought like a hard seed in her mouth, her shoulders tense.

By evening, she told herself to be ready for a fight should that mysterious watcher return. But for now, Anna tugged her into a café, insisting they rest.

Inside, the air was warm and smelled of roasted beans. Anna ordered soup, while Luna, predictably, went straight for sweets. As she handed coins across the counter, something slipped against her palm—a folded note.

Luna froze. She looked up, but the server’s expression was neutral, as if nothing had happened.

When she unfolded the paper beneath the table, her heart gave a strange lurch.

Come to the Academy. — W.T.

Her suspicion melted into recognition. Of course. William Terra. Her so-called “grandfather.”

Luna hid the note, relief and irritation warring inside her. She should have guessed. Who else would be bold enough to watch her openly from the rooftops and then slip her a message like some mischievous conspirator?

The next morning, Luna did something she rarely did, she asked Anna for a favor.

“Would it be all right,” she began carefully, “if I went out alone today?”

Anna’s eyes widened, her lips parting as if Luna had just betrayed her deepest trust. “Alone? But… but I thought we’d go out together again! I even planned—”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Luna promised quickly. “I just… have something to take care of.”

Anna’s expression crumpled with disappointment, though she tried to hide it. “Fine,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “But you will make it up to me.”

“I swear it.”

Eveline, standing by with arms folded, narrowed her eyes. She had expected this. Whatever Luna was up to, it smelled of secrets.

And so, when Luna slipped out of the inn, Eveline followed. Or at least, she tried.

Luna turned a corner, before whispering, “Mist.” Her body dissolved into fog, vanishing from sight.

Eveline stopped short, blinking hard. “What…”

The attendants exchanged bewildered glances, but Anna only sighed. She had seen it before.

Meanwhile, Luna reformed in an alley near the Academy gates. She pulled her hood low and stepped onto the wide road.

The guards at the entrance noticed her immediately. One leaned down. “Lost, little one? This is no place for children.”

“My grandpa called me,” Luna said simply.

The guards exchanged baffled looks. “Your… grandfather? Who might that be?”

Before she could answer, a familiar presence approached.

William Terra, vice principal of Celestia Academy, strode to the gate with casual authority. “She is with me,” he declared.

The guards stiffened, eyes widening. And when Luna lifted her chin and chirped, “Grandpa!” their jaws nearly hit the ground.

Murmurs rippled through the students and staff nearby. Granddaughter? Of William Terra? No one had ever heard of such a thing.

William smiled benignly, laying a hand on Luna’s shoulder. “Come along.”

Inside his office, the world softened. The shelves lined with tomes and artifacts gave the room an air of quiet majesty, but William himself was all warmth as he set a plate of cookies before Luna.

She dug in immediately, her wariness melting under the sweet crunch. “So,” she said between bites, “why’d you call me here?”

William folded his hands. “I thought it best to provide you with… tools. You are, after all, my granddaughter now.”

He slid two cards across the desk.

The first gleamed with the emblem of his family, a mountain crowned by a shield. “An identification card,” William explained. “With this, you may enter any city freely. And with my emblem upon it, few will dare trouble you.”

Luna’s eyes shone as she picked it up. “So official…” She traced the emblem with a fingertip. “I look important!”

“And the second,” William continued casually, “is your allowance.”

Luna blinked at the black card. Recognition hit her like a thunderclap. A black card… infinite allowance.

Her jaw dropped. “This… this is—”

“Use it as you like,” William said, amused by her reaction. “What is a grandfather for, if not to spoil his granddaughter?”

Luna threw herself against the back of the sofa, clutching the card with wide-eyed glee. “Grandpa, you’re the best!”

William chuckled softly. Seeing her smile filled him with unexpected warmth, like sunlight seeping into the cracks of old stone.

The two spent the afternoon talking—grandfather and granddaughter in everything but blood. When the sun dipped low, William rose to escort her to the gates himself.

Whispers followed them like a tide. William Terra has a granddaughter? Students and professors alike gawked, but Luna kept her hood low, ignoring the stares.

At the gate, William asked gently, “Shall I accompany you back to your lodgings?”

“No,” Luna said quickly. “Too much fuss.”

“As you wish.”

She called him Grandpa once more, then pressed a finger to her lips. Mist rose around her, and in an instant, she was gone.

The onlookers gasped. But one professor in particular froze, recognition dawning.

He remembered the small hooded figure who had vanished in the same manner during the exam chaos. So… the vice principal’s granddaughter…

And the rumors spread like wildfire.

Luna returned to the inn to find Anna waiting with arms crossed.

“Where did you go?” Anna demanded.

Luna fumbled for words. “Oh, you know… errands.”

“Errands?”

“Yes. Important errands.” Luna waved a hand vaguely. “Secret ones.”

Anna pouted, unconvinced. Eveline watched silently, her suspicion deepening. But Luna deftly shifted the subject, pulling Anna into chatter about sweets and silly observations until Anna’s mood softened.

That day, they returned to their wandering routine—no agendas, no secrets. They strolled through the streets, played like children chasing shadows, and ended their evening with sugared pastries.

For Luna, the day was a balm. For Anna, it was another page in her memory of cherished companionship. For Eveline, it was torment.

Rumors swirled through Celestia about William Terra’s mysterious granddaughter, and every instinct told her the truth was sitting right in front of her, chewing happily on sponge cake.

The seventh day dawned earlier than Luna preferred. She stirred awake to Anna shaking her shoulder, nerves plain in the younger girl’s wide eyes.

“Luna, today’s the day,” Anna whispered.

Luna blinked sleepily. “Day for what?”

“The results.”

That banished any lingering drowsiness. Luna sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Ah. I see.”

By afternoon, Eveline brought the awaited letter. Anna’s hands trembled as she broke the seal. Again and again, she hesitated, her fingers freezing as if the paper might bite.

“Go on,” Luna urged gently. “No monster in there. Just words.”

Anna squeezed her eyes shut and pulled out the slip. She couldn’t bear to look.

So Luna did. Her eyes skimmed the page—and then widened with delight.

She grabbed Anna’s shoulders, shaking her so hard Anna’s eyes flew open. “You passed!”

For a heartbeat, Anna stared, unable to process. Then the truth hit her. Tears blurred her vision as she threw her arms around Luna. “I passed… I passed!”

Eveline smiled softly, relief in her expression. The attendants clapped and offered congratulations.

The room filled with celebration, laughter, and the scent of the cakes Luna had insisted they keep on hand for just such an occasion.

That night, as Anna drifted to sleep with joy still bright in her eyes, Luna sat by the window, munching on a cookie.

Beyond the city, rumors were spreading fast. Whispers of William Terra’s hidden granddaughter carried not just through Celestia but into the mage towers beyond.

Luna knew nothing of that yet. For now, she was simply content—content to sit in the soft glow of lantern light, watching her friend’s steady breathing, and feeling, perhaps for the first time in centuries—or twenty-two years, depending on who you asked—like she belonged.