Ch 118: Parting Advice

The valley's once-bustling encampments were now silent. The merchants folded their tents, adventurers prepared their horses, and scholars packed their scrolls with care. The allure of the ruins, once a magnetic force drawing in opportunists and dreamers alike, had faded. What remained were only the memories of discovery, conflict, and a shared chapter that had now come to an end. Kalem stood at the edge of the Ironworks, his enchanted spear leaning against a nearby anvil, its faint glow barely visible in the dying light of the sun. The valley, which had been a crucible of ambition and power struggles, was finally at peace.

The quiet was almost unnerving, but Kalem had little time to dwell on it. Elira and Darvin approached, their silhouettes framed by the golden hues of sunset. They were among the last to leave, lingering for a final word. Their farewells carried an unexpected weight, a blend of pride and concern.

"You've done something few could," Elira said, breaking the silence. Her voice was steady but tinged with a note of seriousness that made Kalem pause. "What you achieved here—draining the ruins, restoring balance—was extraordinary. But this isn't where your journey ends. It's where it begins."

Kalem shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. The weight of the moment pressed on him, and he could feel the unspoken expectations behind her words. He had never sought to be anything more than a craftsman, yet here he stood, the architect of something far greater than himself.

Darvin crossed his arms, his rugged features softening into something almost paternal. "She's right. You've got a gift, Kalem, but gifts like yours need honing. You've been figuring things out on your own, and that's impressive. But if you want to reach your full potential, you need the right training and resources."

Elira reached into her satchel and withdrew a parchment, handing it to Kalem with a look of quiet encouragement. The parchment bore an intricate crest—an unmistakable symbol of The Bank, a golden quill encircled by an unbroken ring. Kalem traced its embossed design with his fingers, a mix of curiosity and hesitation clouding his expression.

"This," Elira began, gesturing to the parchment, "is an invitation to the Arcathis Academy of Mystical Arts. It's more than a school—it's a gateway to understanding magic and crafting on a level most can't even imagine. They don't just accept anyone, but after what you've done here, I have no doubt you'll thrive."

Kalem looked up, his brow furrowing. "The Bank runs it?" he asked, his voice cautious.

Elira nodded, her tone serious but reassuring. "The Bank sponsors Arcathis because they believe in fostering talent that can shape the world responsibly. Their artifact, Grungier, ensures fairness in all dealings, magical or otherwise. You'll be in a place where your work is respected and protected. And, frankly, you'll learn things that make what we've done here look like child's play."

Darvin chuckled, stepping forward and clapping Kalem on the shoulder. "And let's not forget—there's a whole world out there, kid. This valley is special, sure, but it's not the only place that needs someone like you. Arcathis will prepare you for what's out there."

Kalem's gaze drifted to the quiet expanse of the valley, its once-turbulent energy now stilled. This place had been his world for so long, his refuge and his responsibility. The thought of leaving it felt almost like betrayal, as if he were abandoning a part of himself. Yet, Elira and Darvin's words stirred something in him—a flicker of curiosity and ambition he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge.

"Think about it," Darvin added, his tone softening. "You've already done more than most people twice your age could dream of. But you're eighteen, Kalem. You've got a lifetime ahead of you. Don't waste it standing still."

Elira smiled warmly, her gaze unwavering. "The valley will wait for you, Kalem. But the opportunities Arcathis offers won't. Take the chance. You've earned it."

As they turned to leave, Kalem watched them go, their figures gradually shrinking against the horizon until they disappeared entirely. He stood there for a long time, the parchment still in his hand, its edges glowing faintly in the twilight. The valley stretched out before him, quiet and vast, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on the academy, on the world beyond, and on the possibilities that awaited him.

For the first time, Kalem allowed himself to imagine a future beyond the confines of the valley. The idea was both daunting and exhilarating. He glanced back at the Ironworks, the forge that had been his sanctuary, and then at the parchment in his hand. The choice was his to make, but the path before him had never seemed clearer.

As the stars began to emerge, Kalem turned and walked back toward the Ironworks, the weight of the moment pressing on him but filling him with a newfound determination. This was not an ending—it was the beginning of something far greater than he had ever dared to dream.