The admission's exam was divided into sections for each of the eleven fields of mundane study at Leverian University. History came first, which made sense.

Hundreds of stories came to life, generated from memories of reading in his mother's library and the stories told to him by his parents or Melody at the hearth. Alfread watched events unfold in his mind such as the bonding of Prince Donovan and the wild witch Emeralda, a practice that founded the tradition of alliances between royalty and cognitive-affectomancy, ending Philladon's Hunt of the Magi.

Alfread answered dozens of questions as the stories of his continent and the lands beyond the oceans swam through his mind. He immersed himself within the stories, allowing himself to envision them, transporting his mind from one to the next, linking them together like a chain of memories he could hold in front of his eyes. The answers flowed from his fountain of stories, and his momentum carried forth as he moved through progressively more obscure events.

Alfread's confidence blossomed from a lone flower into an entire garden as he advanced to the Herblore section. He transported himself to his mother's garden and the stories they created to memorize hundreds of herbs and their applications. He remembered days in the sun, planting and harvesting everything from nirathra to oblivia. For the second time in as many sections, Alfread was meladonite certain in the veracity of each answer.

The Physiology section required more advanced knowledge than he anticipated of an applicant examination. Alas, his training here had been more thorough than anywhere else. He methodically identified each bone and organ in the body and answered questions about basic medica and diagnosis. He recalled his lessons and stories of patients he had seen in his mother's clinic. Thus, he completed the third wave without worry.

Alfread felt unstoppable when he reached the Literature portion. He hadn't read every story, yet the answers were oft revealed in the question. For instance, he was asked to identify the title of a story about a young man chasing his shadow across earth and ocean. Alfread recognized Tales of the Boy Wizard and Stein's unfinished Bloodless Chronicles and knew that they were incorrect. That left Terraqua and The Annals of Ainran. Alfread deduced that the story with the morphemes for earth and sea were a more likely answer. He swathed himself in the stories, dreaming of living the lives of the characters in lands mystical and terrible and wonderful, often peering through these windows into worlds that were in many ways better than his own.

The next section took him out of his own world even further, testing his astronomy aptitude. Alfread remembered many nights in his youth spent sitting on the biggest hill in Bear's Crossing with Zander and Melody. Melody identified hundreds of constellations while sharing their stories with Alfread as Zander snored, head in his mother's lap. As he dived into his life story, he remembered Melody reading the constellations and promising Alfread that his fate would be intertwined with the Radiant and the Firemaiden, the two brightest constellations in the sky. Alfread had no doubt that Asa was the Radiant. Who was the Firemaiden? He thought of Valice Dalardor, and her family sigil and floating castle: The Blue Flame. His pondering slowed him down, and he was uncertain on several questions. Alfread hadn't realized how much science was within the study of the stars. Still, he left his fifth section behind him, believing he had shown himself well, if not masterfully.

Alfread met his first worthy opponent when he arrived at the Law section. Alfread knew few stories about the jurisdiction of a hold justicar traveling to the capital. He didn't know what the penalty was for a beggar to panhandle in ancient Mirrevar. Alfread tried to keep his spirits high even though he knew that he had missed questions. Some of the recall items he left blank, for want of an answer. He would rather leave them empty as guessing wrong was penalized. Humbled, he vowed to study law, an essential if he were to change society.

The tide turned back in his favor when he arrived at the Potioneering section. His mother taught him the basic technique of brewing a potion. He correctly identified potioneer's tools. His recent poison work with Asa came to the fore when he answered a question on Cordesine, the heartstopper. He saw images of a Sapphire wizard falling dead, his and Zander's arrows laced with the poison, battle won. He used his history knowledge to answer a question about Rubi's Perniciam, a horrific poison created by the Dalardor savant who adventured with Vara Spearman, Maddeck Eckhard, Quresh Shadowseer, and Syraxyz of Volqor into the Roaring Plains to capture a dotar and weaponize its abominable toxin. Alas, Alfread didn't know the answer to every potioneering question as his training was concerned with medican applications rather than combat utilization. He didn't mourn his inability to correctly answer every question in the section. If he knew everything already, he would hardly need to apply to Leverian University. He would train with Master Panacea to learn how to apply potions and poisons beyond the medican's clinic. He merely hoped he had acquitted himself sufficiently for Emmalyn to agree to train him.

Alfread attempted the Ethology section to the best of his abilities. He made full use of his hunting experience and the stories his dad often chose to tell. Sir Evan once crooned about the Byakko—the great white feline king—a legendary monster who produced fog and frightened all other animals and beasts. Alfread had never heard of many of the beasts, yet he was satisfied with his performance. Alfread would closely consider his studies here, knowing that they could yield much helpful information when the Celegans tamed the beasts of Leveria.

Alfread applied his architectural knowledge in the Engineering section. Sir Evan's leg prevented him from doing much of the labor required to fix and build things for the farm and Mirielda disavowed that type of labor as being entirely incompatible with her personality. His usually calm, compassionate, intelligent mother would throw childlike tantrums at the notion of helping with any construction. Alfread almost wondered if Rubi's Perniciam existed in everyone, conjured by the things they hated most. When Alfread volunteered to fix the barn's roof after the winter it collapsed, Mirielda bought a treatise on how shapes influence structural stability and Alfread applied the lessons in that book when he rebuilt the roof with Zander's menial support. The section covered much on artificing, including in weaponry and in everyday gadgets. Alfread had many gaps here, but at least he could decipher many of the questions based on his understanding of arrow fletching and other tools used for farming and medica.

Mathematics came next. Zander often called Alfread a mathemagician. Alfread hadn't received training in each problem asked, as his mother and father had only prepared him for the basic numbering needed to operate on a farm. Thus, he felt significantly less magical than Zander would've predicted. Still, Alfread finished the section quickly. Instead of wearying him, the challenge motivated Alfread to keep pushing closer to the finish of the test.

Alfread inhaled, held, and slowly exhaled. He repeated the process again as he shook his hand, trying to mitigate the cramping from intense writing during the mathematical computations. Theology was the final section of the exam. He focused on the tales of the Divine Thirteen; myths heard in the Bear's Crossing temple on Meladon's day or read about in stories. Alfread answered questions about the rivalry of the twins, Seraxa and Qoryxa. Born conjoined, the twins were separated by Meladon, forcing their powers in the divergent directions of fire and ice. They battled eternally for control and were the patron goddesses of the Twin Isles of Volqor where the isle south of the Frostmelt was the coldest place in the world and the isle north of the Frostmelt was the hottest.

He answered questions about the stories of Balbaraq the Mischievous pranking his divine siblings and of Leverith who saw Balbaraq for what he was, hiding sadness behind smiles and pain behind parody. With pain, Alfread remembered Leverith's death at the hands of her brother, Gidi, after he was corrupted by Zamael. Leverith's death ended the Paradise Era and plunged the world into the Dark Era. The priestesses taught that Meladon took Paradise and ascended to the heavens to mourn the loss of his favorite scion. The Divine Fratricide followed in his wake. Brother killed sister and sister killed brother as Zamael corrupted the ten remaining scions.

These mythical stories felt the most important of all to Alfread. These were the tales of their beginning and, he expected, their end. What had happened to create this world and lead to the fall of the Divine Thirteen? To answer that question would allow humanity to solve the mysteries of the past and look forward to forging a better world. However, he also doubted their truth more than recent history. How much had people distorted the facts until history became legend and legend became myth? The Dark Era was a time of lawlessness and chaos. The fact that people from every part of the world remembered the Divine Thirteen served as proof of their existence—as did the evidence that the world's myriad magical powers were all derived from the Divine—yet the different stories each place told made it clear to Alfread that each nation had bastardized the legends to suit their needs.

It was this final segment that left him most exhausted and ready for an end to his trial. He felt depleted when at last he set down the quill and slid the glass panel open, his exam in his hands. Valice sat in a chair only about three feet away reading Annals of an Anathema.

Alfread stretched, muscles and vocal chords. "Maddeck teaches us that it is not who we love but how we love that is important and Vara's eloquence leads me to tears no matter how many times I know where the story leads me."

Valice did an adorable double take. She slammed the book shut, hiding it like she was ashamed to be seen with it. She recovered almost as quickly, set the book down on the ground, stood and dusted off her robes. "I read his story whenever I am feeling sad about my own," she softly intoned, ensuring that her voice wouldn't reach anyone else. "It helps to remember that there are people like you who learn his lesson."

That statement added to Valice's rebuffs earlier refuted his Firemaiden hypothesis. Despite that, Alfread felt his connection to Valice deepen. She suffered too for causes she couldn't control. "Oppression wears many faces," Alfread told her, "and they're all immoral. In the little time I have known you, I have determined you to be a person of the highest caliber. Just like Maddeck Eckhard was."

Lowering her eyes, Valice smiled into her lap. Alfread wondered what it was like to keep such a secret trapped inside you, knowing that your own family and the world would hate you because you loved differently than they wanted you to. Well, if Valice Dalardor was an anathema as the temple would declare, Alfread would rather be faithless than follow those who sponsored blind hatred.

"If you appreciate Maddeck's story, I imagine you might be interested in seeking sponsorship with one of my parents. My father is Master History and my mother is Master Literature."

Alfread considered. He hadn't decided which field of study would be best for his sponsorship. He might not have such a choice. He needed at least one master to be willing to give him a chance to earn meritorious funding. Yet, he couldn't go wrong with either history or literature.

"My heart belongs to stories," he told Valice. "I hope to live like Vara and give voice to people who have no freedom and to learn how to fight against those who are enemies of freedom. If they give me the chance, I'd consider your parents."

Valice's mouth tensed but where that conversation was headed, they would never know. The grand oak doors were thrown ajar and mist filtered into the building. Alfread startled and instinctively reached for an arrow in a quiver that wasn't there. The three attendants likewise gave the event their full attention. Irvaine closed his book and called out, "Master Tidecaller?" The level of obsequiousness in his lofty, condescending manner struck Alfread. Asa's former training partner must be a force here in Rubinia to make this heir's voice tremble and quake like a peasant before a queen.

The mist gathered into the form of a slender woman, yet remained entirely water. Excess water spilled onto the floor around the aqueous shape. The water spoke in a resounding boom that was mighty as a raging river while paradoxically as serene as the most peaceful stream. "Adept Irvaine must report to the archwizard. Apprentice Damina will relieve you."

The water woman dissolved into mist and evaporated. Alfread was left breathing through his mouth, stupefied by the magic on display here at Leverian University. Irvaine Celvine hastened to obey, shoving his book into a bag and sprinting out of the Foundry without so much as a fare thee well to Valice or Salora.

Valice waved a hand in front of Alfread's face and he wondered how long he had been staring into the space where the water woman had been. "Master Tidecaller has that effect on people," Valice explained, while Alfread struggled to tether himself back to reality.

"On men," Salora added, her voice bitter. The lady lordling strode toward them.

Alfread scanned his stories and failed to find any reference of the magic he witnessed. A dozen questions swam to the surface, demanding answers he couldn't find.

Valice's voice was as admiring as Salora's despising. "Master Tidecaller discovered how to create blood and cure death plague. Her mist was responsible for our victory in Vulcan a few years ago. She commands respect because she has earned it."

Salora rolled her eyes. "She's a freak." The high lady spun her finger in a circle beside her head, the universal gesture for insanity.

"Unconventionality breeds innovation," Alfread chimed in. He offered his booklet to Salora. "I for one am grateful that Irvaine won't be sabotaging my examination."

"Me too," Salora winked, brushing her hand against his as she took the booklet. She bit her lower lip and strutted back to the reception desk. Alfread watched her retrieve a scroll from a locked cabinet. Soon enough she was making marks on a separate sheet of paper. The scoring of his test had begun and Alfread trusted that Salora wouldn't falsify his work. He would stand on his own two feet without Irvaine trying to cut off his legs.

Valice guided Alfread to a seat beneath a fresco of the Love Queen. The painting didn't depict Queen Alexia looking down on the three armies but showed the Citadel of Dreams and Covademara at her back while the blue light of Leverith emanated from her body. The thirteen-year-old queen's auburn hair and glowing purple eyes were reminiscent of Melody, conjuring for Alfread the image of Zander's eyes turning purple in the Impwood. Not for the first time, Alfread wondered whether Zander carried the blood of the ancient monarchs. His stature, his birthplace, and now his love for Alexia Bluerose all spoke to Alfread of the story of a lost king returning. Knowing that his entire future was in the hands of Salora Rainwater right now, left Alfread spiraling into Zander's story.

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He hoped Sir Zander was finding peace in his work as blademaster, and that the Bearbreakers weren't breaking down his spirit. He offered a silent prayer to Leverith to let Zander be reunited with Alexia, and lamented that he didn't belong in that chapter. He envisioned the beautiful fresco born from that story. Queen Alexia Leveria was reimagined into the sun-eyed Alexia Bluerose. Zander stood at her side as Alexia conjured Pacisamorus upon Goddess Hill, uniting Ruby and Sapphire to face the threat of the Celegan Empire. Alfread almost regretted his decision not to be a sidekick in that plotline in Leveria's history. Yet, he touched hand to heart and felt his purpose here. Though his storyline couldn't be predicted with certainty, Alfread knew that this was the place that would set his soul ablaze and where he could make his mark on history.

"Love conquers hate."

Alfread startled, having forgotten that Valice admired the painting beside him. Valice offered him Annals of an Anathema. "This will take some time, Alfread. Do what you must to pass the time in peace."

Before Alfread could engage Valice in conversation about the process, the Foundry doors opened and a group of well-dressed men entered. "I have to address their concerns," Valice explained.

To keep the Coward at bay, Alfread immersed himself into the world of Maddeck Eckhard and his journeys with other legends such as the dragon warriors Syraxyz and Sygavax, Captain Bakari, Quresh Shadowseer, Larina LaGrett, and Vara Spearman herself. As always, he found himself crying as Maddeck escaped the Sapphire Kingdom, feeling the weight of that oppression personified perfectly by the blind hatred of men like Ramon Bearsbane, Pontius Pinarus, and Jorreck Eckhard. Alfread was beside Maddeck as he and his allies fought through Meridian to stop the flames when Valice sat in the chair beside him.

She waved a parchment in front of his face, pulling him away from noble Laurent Dalardor's side to his equally noble kin. "The highest score that can be achieved on the admission's exam is an 1100," Valice explained. "One hundred points for each of the eleven mundane fields of study. You scored a 1012."

Alfread nodded, calculated that he only obtained 92% of the possible points. He was disappointed in his performance and began to worry whether that would be enough. He lowered his eyes, afraid to meet Valice's as she sent him home. His throat felt so heavy, making it a struggle to command his voice. "Is that … is that enough?"

"The exam is designed to test apprentice-level knowledge in all eleven domains. I scored a 716, which is in the exceptionally high range. Salora over there is smarter than she lets on and she only scored a 645. The average score for an applicant is 540. We searched the ledger, covering the entire third era. Your score is the highest on record, surpassing even Rubi Dalardor by nineteen points." Valice's happiness turned into a hearty laugh. "So, yes, Alfread, Yadeen's son, I would think that you will be interviewed."

Alfread launched out of his chair, pulled Valice to her feet, and danced with her. He twirled her with abandon. They giggled like a pair of giddy girls on Embrace. She was phenomenally clumsy-footed and nearly tripped him, but Alfread didn't care. He was in a state of bliss where nothing was going to rain on his joy.

Alfread spun Valice. "Alfread, Evan's son." He dipped her. "Sought the meritorious grant." He tossed her into the air, provoking a surprised squeal. "Irvaine said 'I can't.'" He caught her. "Ten-twelve, higher than anyone." Alfread released her then shrugged. "That one could've been better."

Valice studied him for a few turns before replying, "I thought it great. Alfread is most clever. His rhymes, first rate. His admissions, best ever."

Alfread clapped then countered. "The apprentice becomes the master. Her rhymes are no disaster. Her words most suitable. That's not disputable."

Salora waltzed over. "I graded your test. I saw the rest. Alfread is the best. We'll be soon undressed."

Alfread pointed to Salora. "Salora rhymes a-a-a-a. That is not the way. A-A-B-B. Tis the way to please me."

Salora stepped toward him, hands on her hips. "Tonight, in the Cradle, I will be your ladle." She paused for a moment and Valice finished for her, "Whence Salora will spoon, lady's precious boon."

Archlord Rainwater's daughter narrowed her eyes at the one who stole her thunder. "Shan't you be informing the masters that they have an applicant with a 10-12?"

The Foundry doors were thrown open. A petite girl with rough strawberry blonde hair staggered into the room. She laughed, unprovoked, and moved with the confidence and incoordination of heavy intoxication. She wore no robes. In fact, she wore naught but the undergarments that one might expect to be beneath a female scholar's robes. "Salora! Valice! Handsome-gent-I-don't-know-but-wouldn't-mind-an-introduction-to!" She burped then laughed again as a lock of hair fell in front of her eyes.

"Hello, Damina," Valice said, smiling ear-to-ear.

In their amusement, Valice and Salora were unified. "What kept you so long?" Salora inquired.

"Master Tidecaller told me I couldn't come 'til I cured my 'angover." Damina burped, stumbled, and giggled. "I couldn't do it with Leverith or Dalis but I used my da's old trick." She lifted a large flask that was more empty than full, presenting a proud beaming smile.

"Unconventionality breeds innovation," Valice said.

The drunken apprentice cognitive-affectomancer wearing undergarments brushed her hair out of her eyes. "I'm too young to breed," she deadpanned.

"Not too young to criticize the king to his face at his daughter's birthday ball," Salora bantered, keeping her voice light.

"Heh, someone has to tell 'im when he's selling stinky fish," Damina shot back, then burped. She stumbled to a knee, pushed herself back up, before slipping into the reception desk. She smiled winsomely at Alfread, with more charm than any tavern maid he'd met. "Who in Yadeen's name are you and why did I miss the rebirthing?"

"I am Alfread."

"Heh. Just Alfread." Damina grinned at the other women. "He's got just the one name. Like me!"

"Valice was going to assemble the masters for his interview," Salora announced.

"Actually, Salora was going to assemble the masters," Valice challenged.

Damina sat in a chair at the reception desk, placed her bare feet on the gilded table and locked her hands behind her head. "Am I in charge here?" She seemed ignorant of the answer but she was amused with the possibilities.

"Technically," Valice provided.

Damina grinned, exhaling a heavy liquor scent. She pulled a small driftwood wand out of her garments. A small jet of water burst from the tip, landing on her face. She splashed herself for about ten turns, then exhaled sensually, "That's better."

The witch took a few breaths, Alfread noting that her technique was professionally controlled despite setting the record for most unprofessional introduction. "Master's've already convened."

"They have?" Salora said.

"Yep." Damina hiccupped, then took a few sips from her flask. She closed her eyes and Leverith's spirit energy started to swirl around her: ethereal blue.

"As his preparer, it is my responsibility to make introductions," Valice said.

Salora sighed, tossed her hair dramatically, and sat beside Damina. Damina offered her flask and Salora gladly took a sip. She grimaced as though she had just swallowed an entire grapefruit. "What is this?"

Damina chuckled. "Shine on sweet sailor," she crooned, several keys away, "far from home, never alone, but oh so far from home. Who you are is gooooooooooooone! Shine on sweet sailor!" She took the flask back forcefully and took another sip. Damina licked her lips then belched toward Alfread.

Alfread had never imagined finding such a Kennethian creature at Leverian University. This taste of home was both unsettling and welcome.

"Make sure to order a carriage for Damina while you're out," Salora said to Valice.

Damina pointed her wand at Alfread. "No carriages. Strap me to his back!" Her smile was as intoxicating as she was intoxicated. "I ain't heavy, comrade."

"I doubt I will be welcome where you are going," Alfread said, feeling more at ease after she stopped pointing her wand his way. Witches couldn't kill as well as wizards, but a blast of water or a burst of light wouldn't help him with the masters.

Damina lowered her legs, leaned forward, elbows on the table and palms on her cheeks. She hiccupped. "My one-name brethren, if they let me in, do you really think they will think twice about you?"

"Damina, they dragged you out last night," Salora said, smirking.

Damina laughed, a brash out-of-place sound in this hall of grandeur. "Oh yeah!"

Alfread bowed to them. "Pleasure meeting you, ladies."

Damina answered with a rude gesture, taking two fingers and sticking them repeatedly through a hole she made with the thumb and forefinger of her other hand. "Pleasure!" she hooted.

Salora blew him a kiss then said, "You really need to work on your form, Damina. Try using four fingers and growing out the nails a bit."

"Woah!" the witch said. "He's got an anchor?"

Neither Alfread nor Valice seemed eager to hear more, fleeing the scene and closing the doors behind them without making any further eye contact.

The sun had moved several angles into the western sky since he entered Foundry. Neither of them knew what to say, both thinking about how Valice had seen him "rebirthing."

Alfread wore a thin smirk, feeling a pride that he wasn't proud of, that he'd done nothing to deserve besides being born with phallic privilege. This wasn't something that he wanted to be loved for. But everyone in Leveria valued it. 'Blessed by Leverith,' they'd say, taking that as proof that folk like him and Zander were extraordinary just because they were more endowed. The Temple would even spread gospel that offering tribute with people more blessed led to a quicker, and more prosperous, answer from Leverith. Zander had never had to pay for pleasure with tavern maids even though that was their primary source of income.

The cultural norm could be traced to the Leverians, who were famed for their dangling appendages and love making prowess, whether or not that made them good kings. Still, as wrong as it was, it gave Alfread a vindictive feeling to know that Salora wasn't singing Irvaine Celvine's praises.

"The masters are in the Boudoir," Valice said, guiding him deeper into the campus. "It is connected to the Athenaeum." She grinned at him. "Shall we cut through it?"

"I've dreamt of seeing the Athenaeum for longer than I've been able to spell it," Alfread said.

The great library was a long, rectangular, windowless structure with an arched ceiling. Red marble columns surrounded the exterior of a building composed of the opulent golden stone used in Foundry's reception desk. A grand stairway, wide enough for twenty people at the bottom narrowed out at the top to where only five would be able to enter the building. Railings that were red marble asymptotes contained the stairwell, guiding Alfread into the place where he planned to spend the bulk of his time.

He felt like a boy on Rebirth, like Yadeen coming home to his hearth. Thousands upon thousands of stories awaited within these gilded walls. Alfread couldn't contain his excitement, outpacing Valice to rush through the opening between the two largest doors he'd ever seen.

His jaw fell open. Shelves lined every inch of wall except for the bridge that connected the second level to the masters' Boudoir. Their woodwork was beautiful and ancient, yet appeared as if it had been polished only yesterday. Alfread breathed in the scent of books, eager to take them off their shelves. The beams that supported the second and third levels appeared to be natural parts of the shelves. There were two spiral staircases leading to narrow walkways that spanned either side of the upper floors. The ceiling was beautifully detailed with another fresco of Leveria's favorite story detailing the origin of Leverian University's founder: The child queen, the last Leverian, conjuring Pacisamorus from Goddess Hill. This one depicted the entire scene as three invading armies camped below Alexia Leveria. Leverith's blue light swept across the flowery fields, filling men's minds with thoughts of peace and their hearts with love for their queen, the very person they had come to kill and usurp.

Each bookcase held twelve shelves fully stocked with literature and treatises. Gilded ladders were fit to slide along each case so that even the Asas and Daminas of the world could access the top shelf. Alfread estimated that the bookcases were ten feet long from one support beam to the next. He further approximated that the books were, on average, one inch thick. The passageway to Boudoir removed two shelving units.

Alfread computed the grand total. Twelve inches to a foot. One hundred and twenty books to each shelf. Fourteen hundred and forty books to a case. One hundred and eighteen cases to the room. Alfread strained his mind for the last calculation. Valice drew up next to him. "One hundred sixty-nine thousand, nine hundred and twenty," Alfread said. He was awestruck by the sheer number of stories to discover.

Valice snorted. "Good effort but the shelves are double-sided and you are forgetting the basement."

Alfread's eyes went wide. "The what?"

Valice nodded warmly. "The sub-floors hold the more delicate and ancient texts. You may notice the building has no windows. Sun harms paper, that is why we only use noralistones inside Athenaeum, but even still, the books here are damaged by the temperature and light. The cognitive-affectomancers have enchanted devices to regulate the climate in the basement, preserving our more treasured works in the vault."

Alfread overflowed with lofty thoughts of reading all the books. The fantasy possessed him. Alas, he shook off his daydream, returning to reality, grounding himself in observations as his mother taught him. Intricate mahogany tables lined the ground level, with high-backed, cushioned chairs. Each rectangular table seated twenty, with eight seated on the long sides and two on each end. There were twelve tables on each side of the room. A few of them contained scholars wearing green, yellow, gold, or red robes. The consecutive days of birthday celebrations and the semester being out of session likely reduced the scholars studying now.

Alfread's eyes lingered on a golden-robed girl with hair the color of fire at a nearby table. More patches covered her sleeves than any other in the room. She was flipping the pages of two different books as if she was actively reading them both in addition to her frenetic jotting inside a journal. Alfread was compelled to watch her.

"Does she live up to your dreams?" Valice asked, her voice low.

"What?" Alfread said, remembering Valice was beside him.

"Athenaeum?"

Alfread laughed uneasily, provoking several angry glares. The flame-haired girl paused her work as if straining her ears to listen, then abruptly continued her studying. Alfread found himself gazing at her back, drawn to the flames like a moth. Firemaiden.

"She exceeds my dreams. I feel like I'm home."

Valice nodded. She spoke soft, with a hint of glee, respecting the rules of the library. "Welcome home, Alfread. Come, it is time you met the masters."

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