New Faces, Old Scars

My decision, once spoken aloud, felt like a heavy stone lifted from my chest. It was a compromise between my pride and my purpose. I wouldn't be accepting charity; I would be taking a strategic advantage. I was going to use Amelia's offer as a stepping stone to power.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. We were taken to the city's finest tailor to be measured for new clothes. I felt foreign in the soft, flowing fabrics and the elegant cuts, but Eliza was in her element. She spun in front of the mirror, laughing, looking like a princess from a fairy tale. Amelia also sent us to a bookstore, where we were given a trunk filled with textbooks on magical theory, spellcasting, and magical history. The books felt heavy in my hands, their pages filled with complex diagrams and strange symbols. They were a world away from the battered books I used to read in our tiny apartment.

As the day of our departure grew closer, my stomach churned with a mixture of dread and anticipation. I was finally going back to the upper floors, but under a different guise. No longer a low-floor errand girl, I would be a student. It felt like I was wearing a disguise, and it made me feel like a liar.

On the day of our departure, the grand elevator leading to the upper floors awaited us at the station. Amelia stood with us, a gentle smile on her face. A chauffeur was waiting to take us to the academy.

"You have all my faith, my dears," Amelia said, pulling Eliza into a warm embrace. Eliza hugged her back tightly, tears of gratitude streaming down her face.

Then, Amelia turned to me. I stiffened, unsure of what to do. My heart was still a fortress, barricaded against emotion. She didn't hug me. Instead, she took my hands in hers and looked me in the eye.

"Kira," she said, her voice low and steady. "I know this is not an easy choice for you. I know you carry a great burden. But remember, strength comes in many forms. Sometimes it is fighting, and sometimes it is knowing when to accept a helping hand."

Her words resonated with me, chipping away at the walls I had built. She was right. This wasn't a surrender; it was a tactical retreat. It was the start of a new battle.

I nodded, my throat tight. "Thank you, Madam. For everything."

"You are my daughters now," she said, her smile warm and genuine. "You don't need to call me 'Madam' anymore. Call me Mother."

The word felt strange on my tongue, but looking at her kind face, I felt a flicker of something new—a fragile sense of belonging. I managed a small, hesitant nod.

With a final wave, Amelia sent us off. As the elevator ascended, the familiar, grimy floors of our old life disappeared below, replaced by the sparkling, opulent floors of the wealthy. The ascent was dizzying, a physical representation of the massive leap our lives had just taken.

When the doors opened on the 50th floor, we were met with a sight that stole our breath. Before us stood the Phantasia Magic Academy—a magnificent, castle-like structure with towering spires and walls of shimmering crystal. It was more breathtaking than I could have ever imagined. It was a place of dreams, of power, of magic.

And it was also a place where I planned to find my brother and tear down everything that stood in my way.