Ethan was the first one to wake up the next morning. As he pulled on his boots and rubbed sleep from his eyes, he noticed something odd: a small patch of wildflowers had sprouted right out of the wooden floorboards, clustered around where Buster slept, snoring in a tangle of legs and tail.

  Ethan grinned, tempted to wake Buster up and tease him, but then hesitated. How was he going to explain this to Jorrin and Mara? He pictured Mara’s face when she saw the cheerful little blooms breaking through her floor—equal parts disbelief and resignation.

  Maybe best to let Buster discover it on his own, Ethan decided, and made a mental note to distract Mara near the stairs—just in case she came up before the flower dog woke up.

  Ethan padded quietly downstairs, careful not to wake anyone else—or draw Mara’s attention to the new “garden” blooming above. The Silver Thorn’s common room was still half-shadowed, just a few rays of morning light sneaking past the curtains. He could hear Tamri in the kitchen, the gentle thump of bread dough and the low clatter of pans. Mara was behind the bar, hair pulled back, wiping down the counter and humming a tune that seemed older than the city.

  She glanced up as Ethan came in. “You’re up early,” Mara said, her voice still a little rough with sleep. “Coffee’s hot, and Tamri just pulled honeycakes from the oven. Help yourself.”

  Ethan nodded his thanks and poured himself a mug, savoring the smell. He took a moment to enjoy the quiet, the simple comfort of the inn, before the others—and the day’s new challenges—caught up with him.

  He settled at his usual table, letting the first sip of coffee work its magic. He was halfway through his second mouthful when he happened to glance up—and froze.

  A perfect patch of wildflowers had sprouted from the ceiling beams above him, tracing the unmistakable shape of a sprawled-out dog—tail, paws, even a floppy ear, all rendered in petals and green. It was exactly the spot where Buster always slept in the room overhead, and the flowers had pushed straight through the wood.

  Ethan did a quick double take and nearly choked, sputtering coffee down his chin. His coughing brought Mara hustling over, towel in hand. “You alright? Breathe, Ethan. Please don’t die at breakfast.”

  He wiped his mouth and pointed up at the ceiling. “Sorry—I just… look.”

  Mara followed his gaze. She stared at the flowery canine silhouette, mouth opening and closing a couple times. “Is that…?”

  Ethan ran a hand over his face. “That’s… Buster’s work. He picked up nature magic yesterday during training. I thought it was just wildflowers on the floor upstairs, but apparently his power decided to keep growing—right through the wood. Looks like wherever he sleeps, you get a flower bed on both sides of the boards.”

  Mara shook her head in disbelief, but a laugh crept in. “If he starts growing pumpkins in my pantry, he’s getting his own broom.”

  Ethan grinned, embarrassed but relieved. “Deal. I’ll warn him.”

  After sufficient teasing about Buster’s flower bed—Pixie circling him with, “Better watch out, or you’ll turn the whole inn into a garden!” and even Moose rumbling, “At least you smell better now”—the Pack finally began their push toward the door.

  Getting out of the inn with the whole Pack turned out to be another challenge. As soon as Ethan started gathering the crew near the door, all of the Silver Thorn kids swarmed around them like a living blockade—Tessa and Kip hanging on to Amelia and Pixie. Senna, hovering nearby, peppered Lyra with rapid-fire questions about cloak colors, travel boots, and how she managed to keep her hair so neat even after a fight. The thirteen-year-old soaked up every answer, clearly determined to glean as much “grown-up” advice as she could from someone as striking and confident as Lyra.

  Even Tomlin, who was usually easily distractible, was clinging to Moose’s leg with both arms and refusing to let go. Moose stood perfectly still, patient as ever, giving Ethan a long-suffering look while Tomlin hugged his ankle and wouldn’t budge.

  Moose just waited out the storm of affection, standing perfectly still, his big head lowered in resignation while Tomlin hugged his ankle and refused to let go.

  It took bartering, promises of adventure stories, and finally a few stern looks from Mara for the kids to reluctantly release their grip. “Let them go,” Mara warned, hands on her hips. “They’ll come back—especially if there’s cake for breakfast tomorrow.”

  With the last hugs given and the door finally clear, Ethan herded the Pack out into the morning. The Silver Thorn kids watched from the stoop as the Pack headed down the street—Tessa waving, Kip already plotting questions for their return, Senna still trying to catch Lyra’s eye for one more bit of advice.

  Ethan herded the Pack out into the morning. They caught the tram at the Lantern Row platform, everyone squeezed into the tram car—Pixie chattering, Buster sniffing every passing bag for snacks, Lyra keeping a protective eye on Amelia, Moose standing guard.

  The tram rattled and clanged through the heart of Celdoras, carrying them through streets that grew wider and cleaner as they left the markets behind. Morning sun flashed off slate rooftops. Students in gray and blue robes waited at every other stop, sometimes with satchels, sometimes balancing stacks of books or scroll tubes on their laps. Most looked half-awake or lost in their own thoughts. Pixie spent the ride peering over the edge of her seat, pointing out every stray cat or bakery she spotted, tail thumping against the floor every time she found something interesting.

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  The Academy grounds began with a long, walled avenue shaded by old plane trees. Iron lanterns stood at even intervals along the path, each one black with age. Beyond the gate, the main courtyard opened wide. The buildings that ringed it looked older than anything in Ethan’s old city—thick-walled, their corners softened by time, each with a carved stone crest mounted near the entryway. Flags hung above the arches, showing the school’s colors and the faded marks of various magical disciplines.

  The main hall dominated the center of the courtyard, its broad steps worn to a gentle dip in the middle. The doors stood open, propped back against the stone, letting out a faint draft that smelled of candle wax, old wood, and something almost like wild sage.

  Ethan kept the Pack close as they crossed the courtyard, their arrival drawing a few looks but no real stares. Here and there, a pair of students paused in conversation to watch Moose’s steady stride, or Pixie’s restless zigzag across the flagstones. Lyra moved with calm confidence, scanning the windows and doorways as she passed. Amelia stuck close to her, fur fluffed just a bit in the chill air. Buster fell into step at Ethan’s side, nose lifted to test every new scent, while Moose took the lead by a pace or two—quiet, alert, and careful not to bump into anyone.

  At the top of the steps, Ethan paused under the carved arch. The details in the stonework showed leaves, foxes, ravens, and coiling script he couldn’t read. He pressed one hand to the door out of habit—half expecting a shock of magic, but all he felt was cool, pitted wood beneath his palm.

  Inside, the grand hall swallowed them in quiet. The ceiling arched overhead, beams set with iron hooks and faded banners. Light spilled through tall windows set deep in the walls, catching bits of dust in the air. The sound of their boots and claws echoed, mixing with the muffled voices from distant side halls.

  At the far side of the room stood a wide desk built from dark, heavy wood. Its surface was marked by scratches, old ink stains, and a deep groove where years of elbows had leaned. Behind it, a clerk in a simple gray robe was reading over a ledger, lips moving silently as she scanned the page.

  As they approached, she glanced up. Her hair was gathered into a rough knot, with a narrow strip of blue fabric threaded through to keep stray pieces out of her face.

  Ethan stopped a few paces back, not wanting to crowd the desk. He drew the guest note from Gwenna out of his bag, handed it over, and waited. The clerk read it, checked a thick registry at her elbow, then took a small brass token from a drawer and pressed it into his palm.

  “Guest access for the day,” she said. “You’ll want to keep this visible.” Her voice was measured, careful, but not unfriendly. “Stay to the public halls. Don’t open doors sealed with red wax, and if a stairwell feels strange under your feet, wait for someone from faculty to clear you through. Please take a seat there until your guide arrives.”

  She gestured to a bench set near the wall, close enough to the desk for the Pack to keep an eye on everything. Lyra examined the token and nodded her approval before giving it back to Ethan, who clipped it to his belt.

  Waiting was never the Pack’s strong suit. Pixie hopped onto the bench, turning in a full circle before settling with her nose pointed toward the windows. Buster sat beside her, scanning the passing students with a look of mild suspicion. Moose found a spot near the door, his back to the wall, so he could watch both entrances at once. Amelia pressed close to Lyra, ears pricked for every distant sound.

  A handful of students glanced their way—some curious, some cautious—but most kept moving. One younger girl with a stack of books paused and smiled at Pixie, who waved a paw in response before Lyra gently reminded her to stay on the bench.

  Ethan used the time to study the main hall. The banners above showed symbols for different fields—alchemy, elemental studies, enchanting, and others he didn’t recognize. Old portraits lined one wall, the eyes of their subjects painted sharp and direct. Candle sconces gave off a steady glow, their flames unmoved by any draft.

  The wait ended when the sound of measured footsteps crossed the stone floor. A woman in a patched robe approached, braid hanging loose over one shoulder and ink stains marking both sleeves. She didn’t slow as she sized up the group—just paused by the desk long enough for the clerk to nod her over.

  “I’m Yren. Arcane theory graduate track,” she said, with a tone that carried more patience than enthusiasm. “Professor Tahl asked me to give you the full orientation. Stay together. If you can’t read a sign or a ward, ask. If you’re not sure about a door, don’t open it. And if you wander off, I’m not coming to look for you.”

  She gave the group a final glance, then started down the main corridor at a steady, practical pace. Lyra moved in beside Ethan without needing to be asked, her eyes on the new guide. Pixie hopped off the bench and trotted close, tail up and alert. Moose and Buster took their usual places, watching the edges of the hall. Amelia stayed between Lyra and Ethan, quiet but attentive.

  Yren slowed her stride just enough to let Ethan catch up at her side. “First time at the Academy, I take it?” The words were flat, almost perfunctory—more a checkmark on her list than a real question.

  Ethan nodded. “That’s right. We’re supposed to meet with Professor Tahl at some point, but I don’t know the layout. I’m not sure where we’re meant to start.”

  Yren gave a curt nod, lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s common enough. Guests come in with names and no plan. Anything specific you need to see? Training halls? Lecture rooms? The labs?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s open to us. Library, maybe? I’m hoping to learn what I can, but I don’t know where to start.”

  “Library it is,” Yren said, giving no sign of disappointment or interest either way. “It’s the one place they let outsiders poke around without too much trouble. We’ll begin there. If you decide you need something else, you can tell me on the way.”

  She guided them down a broad side hall, passing students in study groups and the occasional cart loaded with supplies. The banners here were older, the colors faded but the crest still clear. Yren didn’t slow, didn’t offer explanations for the sights around them. She only pointed to a heavy door ahead.

  “Library’s through here. Stay close and don’t wander. The stacks are deep, and it’s easy to lose track of time or direction if you don’t know your way.”