The day of the exam arrived faster than any of them had anticipated. No matter how much time the witches had spent preparing and training, it still felt like there was more to learn, more to refine.
But ready or not, the day had come.
When the witches woke that morning, they found something waiting for them—robes, neatly folded, tailored to their magic school. Earthy brown for alchemy, deep green for botany, golden yellow for divination, crimson red for fire, regal purple for illusion, and a rich, flowing blue for arcane.
The fabric was finer than anything they had ever worn and trimmed with delicate embroidery.
One witch, always seen in a tattered green dress, now held the blue robe in her hands, hesitant. It made Vell almost laugh. Now she would be the blue witch if she decided to wear it.
And how could one refuse such a gift?
Sonder wasn't left out.
For her, Vell had chosen a robe of obsidian black that mirrored his own, but with streaks of red. She ran her fingers over the fabric, testing the weight of it. "When did you even get these?"
Vell shrugged, busy adjusting his own robe, wanting to be presentable, though to their eyes, he had changed nothing about his fashion. "Oh, I picked them up when I had the time."
The witches exchanged glances, but they knew better than to question it.
With their new robes settled around them, fitting perfectly, they set off toward Herow.
The moment they reached the threshold of the house, a silent pause settled over them. The weight of reality pressed down, heavier than any training they had endured. This was it. The world beyond was no longer a distant thought—it was here. Now.
Vell picked up his staff from where it rested on the kitchen floor and turned back to them.
"Let's go," he said simply. And like a shepherd leading his flock, he guided them forward.
The city stretched before them, vast and bustling, but they barely noticed. Every step seemingly longer than the one before.
The pressure of seeing Herow felt overwhelming, as if it could rise beyond the sky. Yet, in reality, the academy looked like any other—only older than most of the buildings in the city, grand but almost no hints of its age.
Other aspiring witches and magicians had already gathered, each one looking just as tense as they felt.
Dozens of aspiring witches and magicians had already gathered, each looking just as tense as the witches felt. Some fidgeted with their robes, others clutched charms or staves as if they were lifelines, like the witches had done in the forest of Targe.
Vell kept a steady pace, his staff tapping against the stone floor as he led them forward.
The witches followed, their robes flowing behind them. Their rainbow colors stood out in the sea of candidates. They were not the heirs of noble magic families or the favored students of esteemed scholars; taught, in part, by the Dread Mage himself.
A robed official at the entrance looked them over, eyes lingering just a moment longer than usual before nodding toward a large arched doorway. "Sign in and proceed inside."
One by one, they wrote their names and magic school in the registry, the ink dark and final against the parchment.
Then, with nothing left to do but face what lay ahead, they stepped into the exam hall.
The space was enormous, lined with towering bookshelves, glowing glyphs, and floating candlelight that flickered without a breeze. At the far end of the hall stood a group of examiners—seasoned magicians who would determine their worth. Some had neutral expressions, others watched with the detached curiosity of scholars dissecting a new subject.
And there, standing at the highest point of the room, was Jouska Hyptho, the headmaster.
They had seen him only a month ago, yet it felt like a lifetime.
His voice rang out, firm and absolute—surprisingly powerful for someone of his stature.
"The exam will be conducted in three parts—first, the practical, to weed out those not worthy. Then, the theoretical. And lastly, an assessment of your proficiency in your chosen specialty. Those who pass will earn their right to attend Herow and claim its knowledge and resources."
A murmur spread through the examinees. Some looked relieved. Others paled.
Sonder turned to the witches, quiet but steady. "Good luck to you all."
The witches lined up, waiting for their names to be called. Their hands twitched at their sides, restless with anticipation.