17 - Doubt

The gates of the Celestia Academy closed behind them, the sound of iron and magic-infused steel sliding shut ringing faintly in the afternoon air.

For Anna, it was like the end of one storm and the start of another—relief, anticipation, and just a touch of dread curling together in her chest.

Beside her, Luna walked with a bounce in her step, her hood drawn up, looking for all the world as if she hadn’t just spent the morning hiding from the attention of hundreds.

Anna’s attendants were waiting just outside, their carriage parked neatly along the road like a line of polished black beetles. As soon as they spotted their young lady, they straightened, voices overlapping in welcome.

“Congratulations, Young Miss!”

“Well done, Lady Anna!”

The chorus of relief and pride made Anna’s cheeks bloom pink. She lowered her gaze, smiling shyly, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

Luna caught the expression instantly and grinned. “Oh, don’t get too smug. I seem to recall a certain someone shaking so hard during the exam that I thought the chair itself might bolt for freedom.”

Anna gasped, eyes wide. “I did not!”

“You did,” Luna said with playful cruelty, hands clasped behind her back as if she were the picture of innocence. “Your quill was rattling like it had a personal grudge against parchment. Even the boy beside you gave you a look.”

Anna’s ears turned scarlet. “That’s… that’s because the questions were tricky!”

Luna chuckled, savoring the victory. “Excuses, excuses.”

The attendants, catching the exchange, tried to hide their smiles. A few exchanged quick glances, clearly delighted to see their young lady so alive and unguarded.

Inside the carriage, velvet seats softened the world’s edges. The steady clatter of hooves on cobblestone was the only constant, a background rhythm to the day’s conversation.

Eveline, seated across from them, smoothed her crimson robes before folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes—sharp, thoughtful, carrying the heat of the flames she commanded—fell on Anna. “Tell me, Miss Anna. How did you find the exam?”

Anna straightened immediately, schooling her expression. “The written portion… was harder than I expected,” she admitted. “I thought I had prepared enough, but the questions went deeper than memorization.”

“That’s natural,” Eveline said, a teacher’s patience threading her tone. “The Academy does not care for rote learning. They want to see how you think, how you handle being pushed.”

Anna nodded, then her lips quirked upward. “But the practical portion… I’m sure I did well. No—I’m certain of it.”

The pride in her voice startled Eveline. She blinked, then smiled faintly. “Certain, hm? That is not a word I hear often from you, Miss Anna. Very well—congratulations.”

Anna’s blush returned, softer this time, as she whispered her thanks.

The carriage rolled on. For a few moments, silence reigned—then Anna leaned forward, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh! And when the written exam was paused—”

Luna froze mid-chew, her candy suddenly tasting like betrayal.

Eveline’s brow furrowed. “Paused? What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you hear? It was incredible!” Anna burst out. “Vice Principal William Terra was sparring with someone. Right there, inside the Academy! He was smiling—actually smiling—while defending himself. It was… it was like watching a story come alive.”

Eveline stiffened. Of all the answers she had expected, this one had not crossed her mind.

For the exam to be paused was already extraordinary. For William Terra, the man known for his stern, untouchable aura, to be sparring within the grounds…

“That was the reason?” she murmured.

Anna nodded eagerly. “Yes! The air itself froze. Blizzards and fog swallowed the field where they fought. Even from a distance, all of us felt the cold. Even some of the older children were shivering.”

Luna’s hood shadowed her face. She lowered her gaze to the small bag of sweets in her lap, plucked out a caramel, and stuffed it into her mouth. Chewing became her defense, her way of escaping the weight of Anna’s words.

Eveline, however, was no longer listening to Anna’s childish enthusiasm. Her mind whirled, cataloging, comparing, rejecting, reaching.

There was no record—no whisper—of another mage in Celestia who could stand before William Terra and match him spell for spell.

Not in the associations she belonged to, not in the careful gossip that passed between guilds, not in the lists of travelers and wandering masters who came to the city. She was certain.

Her eyes slid, almost against her will, toward the small figure hunched in the corner seat.

Luna Aqua.

The girl who had crafted a wheel of ice that did not melt under the summer sun. The girl who traveled under no banner, answered to no house, and yet displayed magic with casual precision.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Her reasoning spiraled dangerously. Level 9. They alone had the eternal faces of youth. But… no. No, it was absurd.

This girl, this sweet-toothed traveler who now tried to disappear into her candy, could not be a myth wrapped in flesh.

Could she?

Eveline pressed her lips together, feeling the heat of her own thoughts. She had seen masters crumble under paranoia. She would not follow them. She would report, yes—Count Crimson deserved to know—but she would not chase shadows. Not yet.

Anna’s voice cut through her storm of thoughts. “—and because of that, I feel more confident about my own path. Watching that battle lit something inside me. If I can even reach a fraction of that level someday, then—”

Her words sparkled with hope.

Luna’s gaze softened. Still chewing, she listened carefully, like an older sister humoring the dreams of someone precious.

The carriage rocked, wheels striking a bump, and silence briefly returned. Eveline breathed deeply, steadying herself. Her suspicions coiled tight, but she forced them down, hiding them behind her calm exterior.

The rest of the ride passed in fragments, Anna’s laughter, Luna’s occasional teasing, Eveline’s quiet, burning thoughts.

By the time the carriage reached the inn, the sun had slipped lower, brushing the streets in amber light.

The attendants opened the door, and Anna hopped down, still chattering about ice storms and stone pillars, about battles that shook the ground.

Luna followed, quiet but smiling faintly, her candy bag rustling like a shield.

Eveline stepped last, her crimson robes catching the light, her mind already weighing what must be said and what must be left unspoken.

The inn’s polished wooden doors swung open to receive them, the smell of hearth fire and baked bread curling through the air.

Anna was still glowing from the exam’s end, practically skipping across the lobby tiles. Luna trailed behind, her hood still firmly in place, hands tucked into her sleeves as though trying to make herself smaller.

The attendants dispersed with quiet efficiency—some preparing for dinner, others doing miscellaneous tasks. Eveline remained composed, but her eyes followed Luna, narrowing ever so slightly.

“Come, young Miss,” Eveline said to Anna with her usual warm authority. “You must rest. The day has been long.”

Anna gave her a dazzling smile. “Rest? Not yet! We need to celebrate first.”

Luna grinned, emboldened. “Cakes,” she declared. “That’s what she means. Lots of cakes.”

Eveline’s lips tightened, but she said nothing as the two hurried upstairs.

Their suite occupied the top floor, three spacious rooms branching from a shared lounge. Plush chairs circled a low table, and a wide window opened onto the glowing city below.

Anna burst inside, spun in a circle, and flopped onto the couch with a sigh of triumph.

“Finally! It feels like the weight of the world just rolled off my shoulders.”

“You mean the weight of ink bottles and exam papers,” Luna teased, dropping into the armchair opposite her. “I thought you were going to faint after the fifth question.”

Anna sat up, indignation painting her cheeks. “You’re exaggerating again!”

“Am I?” Luna leaned forward, her smile wicked. “Should I reenact the trembling quill?” She held out a finger, shaking it dramatically until Anna squealed in protest.

The door creaked open, revealing Eveline with a tray of teacups. Her expression softened just enough to show she had caught their antics. “Enough, the both of you. If you must bicker, at least do it over something sweet.”

At her words, the attendants swept in with plates piled high—sponge cakes layered with cream, fruit tarts glistening with glaze, and delicate pastries dusted in sugar. Luna’s eyes went round as coins.

“Now that,” she whispered reverently, “is what victory looks like.”

Anna laughed, the tension of the day dissolving into warmth. “Then let’s eat until we can’t move.”

The two dug in without hesitation. Eveline watched them with a small sigh, seating herself nearby.

The sweets disappeared at alarming speed, Luna proving especially efficient. Every bite seemed to drive her further from Eveline’s earlier suspicions, like sugar was a shield she built crumb by crumb.

Anna, meanwhile, recounted every detail she remembered from the spar. Her hands waved, eyes shining. “And then the fog rolled in, so thick we couldn’t see. But we could feel it—the air itself turned heavy. And when the ground shook…”

“You sound like you were right there,” Eveline remarked, sipping her tea.

Anna nodded earnestly. “It was that vivid. I’ll never forget it.”

Across the table, Luna shoved a tart into her mouth to avoid comment. She chewed noisily, gaze fixed firmly on her plate.

Later, when the trays were empty and their stomachs comfortably heavy, Anna leaned back with a content sigh. “This feels like a celebration already. Even if I fail, at least today was wonderful.”

“You won’t fail,” Luna said firmly, surprising her. “You worked hard. You’ll pass.”

Anna blinked at her, taken aback by the confidence in her voice. A smile curved her lips. “Thank you.”

The moment lingered, warm and quiet. Eveline looked between them, her chest tightening.

These two—so different, yet so close. She envied their ease, their laughter, their faith in one another. For a heartbeat, she almost forgot her unease.

Almost.

Her gaze drifted once more to Luna, small and unassuming, still licking frosting from her thumb. Impossible, Eveline told herself again. And yet…

She excused herself soon after, retreating to her room with the weight of her thoughts.

That night stretched longer than either girl expected. Luna and Anna carried cakes back to their room under the guise of “midnight snacks,” then sat cross-legged on the bed, talking about everything and nothing.

Anna spoke of her hopes for the Academy, her dreams of becoming strong enough to protect those she cared for.

Luna listened, interjecting now and then with a joke or a mischievous tease, but mostly letting Anna’s words wash over her.

For Luna, it was like peeking into a window she never had in her old world—a future filled with determination and wonder, untouched by cynicism. She smiled softly, even as Anna’s words made her feel older than her twenty-two years.

By the time dawn’s first light brushed the curtains, both had collapsed in laughter, crumbs scattered across the blanket. Sleep claimed them only when exhaustion won.

They awoke in the afternoon to Eveline’s sharp voice.

“Unbelievable! The two of you—celebrating until sunrise? Anna, you have a lecture tomorrow, and you—” her finger jabbed toward Luna “—encouraging this behavior?”

Luna shrank back, lips pressed tight, trying not to laugh. Anna, red-faced, tried to hide under the blanket.

Eveline sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I expected more discipline. If the Count heard of this—”

“Please don’t tell him,” Anna squeaked.

Eveline’s eyes softened despite herself. She lowered her hand, looking at them both—the flushed Anna, the smug Luna who tried to hide behind a sweet she wasn’t supposed to be eating. For all her frustration, warmth crept into her chest again.

“Very well. I won’t. But this cannot become a habit.”

“Yes, Miss Eveline,” Anna murmured.

“Yes, Miss Flame,” Luna added cheekily, earning herself a glare.

But the glare lacked real heat. Eveline turned away, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Heaven help me with these children.”

Luna grinned. Anna giggled. For a moment, all was well.

That night, Eveline lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her mind returned to the blizzards, the fog, the impossible clash. Her instincts screamed, but her heart wanted to look away.

Still, when dawn broke again, one thought crystallized with painful clarity.

If Luna Aqua truly was what Eveline feared… the world itself might shift around her.

And Eveline, loyal to Count Crimson, could not ignore that.