Evander shuts his eyes for a moment when you announce your decision, thinking. "Yes," he says after a few moments, blinking them open. "I think that would make the most sense. The demons and the prophecy are what's most important right now."
Evander crumples the letter with some satisfaction, and falls asleep not long afterward, leaving you to contemplate the rest of your journey alone.
Next
You glance idly at Evander on occasion, but he doesn't stir. You imagine he might have been awake most of the night agonizing over the letter, and the prophecy, and whatever other concerns are weighing heavily on his mind.
You let your gaze stray back to the window.
The Royal Arcane Academy has loomed large in your mind for as long as you can remember. Even setting aside the aspirations of its chancellors, the Academy is the only royally-accredited magical institution in Ithos, so attendance is a requirement if you intend to make a name for yourself through magical means. But that was never an option for you, even if you'd had the money or family connections to earn a seat. The Academy accepts only students who can demonstrate power over the elements, the sorts of abilities Ithos's rulers always used to wield. More esoteric talents, like your illusions, are deemed too irregular to be worthy of further study. Prophets have enough of a hallowed history to be granted admittance despite their unusual nature, but they're the only exception.