“Thanks, Agrona, that really was incredible. It's definitely the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Aww shucks, you’re going to make an old lady blush. Anyway, if you want to get anywhere before it gets busy, you’ll want to get a move on. You only have a couple more hours until the rest of them start waking up. It's still chilly out. Did you want to borrow a scarf? Should I pack you some lunch?”

  “Ah! Thanks, I was so lost in the meal I nearly forgot. Uhm, I think I’ll be back in time for lunch, but could you pass on a note to someone for me? The pink-haired girl I was with yesterday, her name’s Lara.”

  “I know her dear, she’s the sweetest thing. I’m glad to see you’re talking to her. It broke my heart seeing the poor thing being so distraught looking for you.”

  Felix was taken aback that even Agrona knew about his blunder. He could just imagine Lara limping through the common area after getting out of the infirmary, asking after him. He could feel the self-loathing creeping back in —no, in truth, it never left. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him before his emotions could spiral any further, breaking the fragile resolve he’d built up only yesterday.

  “None of that child, the start of your journey is hard enough without you making it harder for yourself. It’s inevitable that you’ll stumble on your path. All you can do is learn from your mistakes and do better in the future.”

  Her words were just enough for him to hold onto the fragile resolve he’d managed to nurture. With a couple of hard blinks, he was able to stop the moisture in his eyes from spilling over.

  “Thank you, I should go.”

  With a squeeze of his arm and a reassuring nod, Agrona sent him off.

  Outside, Felix was surprised to find it was indeed quite chilly, not enough to need a scarf but definitely enough to envy the last couple of people huddled up inside, next to the fireplace. Looking up, the moon was in the same place the sun had been yesterday, stuck in the middle of the sky as it was pinned there yet somehow emanating the feeling of approaching dawn.

  Letting his eyes scan the crossroads, Felix noted that while the shops and cafe were closed, the library seemed to be open. Some distant lights coming from the gym told him that it was probably open as well. Still, he had his mind set on a destination. The Crossroads was a place to rest and prepare, but a Traveller didn’t become a Traveller by standing still. No, his first destination was set. He’d have to enter the Ways again.

  Making his way through the Crossroad and across the lawns, following the gentle bends and turns of the cobblestone path, he soon found himself in front of that golden gate. He tried to follow the path with his eyes as it stretched endlessly into the night sky on the other side of the gate in vain. He tried to find meaning in the shifting constellations and drifting nebulae. It was beautiful.

  “And I’m stalling.”

  The last time he stepped through that gate, he lost something dear to him. Everything he’d read on his identity token about the Ways told him that it wouldn’t happen again, and yet his feet felt heavy.

  Looking over to the distant hill where he sat yesterday, he could see the old tree that sheltered him. Taking deep breaths, he tried to remember why he was here, the peace of that place, and, without taking his eyes off the tree, he stepped forward.

  One step, then another, and he was through the gate. Looking around him, he noticed the path stretching out ahead of him as it had last time, only now the golden gate was still there. He could turn back if he wanted to, leave if he wanted to. Strangely, even though he just gave a couple of steps, he wasn't next to the gate. He stood maybe six carts from it.

  Trying to judge the distance between him and the gate, something strange happened. He could see beyond the path, a deeper meaning in that gap, beyond the stones and lanterns. He could see the journey he had walked to get where he stood. With a start, he realised that somehow the path behind him represented everything he’d faced after leaving the path. The stones closest to the gate spoke of a new understanding of mana and the world he lived in.

  The stones after that spoke of loss and darkness, loathing and jealousy. The echoes of pain continued through the next stones all the way to his feet, yet other stories blended with them, of tea, of a friend, and of a desperate hope that there was still a path in front of him.

  So he turned once again, and he saw the paths stretched to the horizon. This time, he saw it with different eyes. He was struck with horror, realising that everything he’d been through since his first journey barely moved him forward. He saw the road ahead of him and felt crushed by its length. It seemed to never end.

  ‘How could anyone attempt to walk across all that? What type of monster does it take to see that and not be crushed?’

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  As the thought crossed his mind, the night sky shifted, and somehow the answer came to him as if it had always been there. His eyes shifted to the horizon as, for the first time in his life, he had the barest inkling of what it meant to be called a Starfarer.

  Felix didn’t know how long he stared at the horizon, but a compulsion built in him the longer he looked at it. Eventually, only half conscious of what he was doing, he looked down at his own feet. The stones there didn’t speak of the endless path ahead of him. Instead, they spoke of where he stood now, a mere six carts from the start of his path.

  What point was there in looking at the horizon when what brought him back here wasn't some daydream about being a Starfarer? It was a fragile resolve built from a faint ember of desire to find answers. His tiny curiosity didn’t need him to walk to the horizon. It just needed him to take a step.

  So he did, one step, and then another. Step by step, he walked his path, stopping each time to listen to what it had to say. That is how he began his journey. Not dashing to greatness but taking tentative steps, cautiously cradling what little of his dreams were left, shielding them, like a candle from a storm. With each step he took, he listened to his path, learning little by little. He didn’t find the answers to his never-ending list of questions, but what he found was still precious.

  The path did not speak to him in words. Rather, with every step he took and every lesson he learned, his understanding grew in ways hard to put into words. His connection to his affinities deepened as his understanding of them increased. Things that he’d chalked down to just being magic started to make sense to him, not in any way he’d be able to articulate, but he intuitively grasped them.

  He realised that the calm he experienced under the tree, that feeling of comfort and support, wasn’t an illusion. He sat in a place teeming with life and emptied his mind, without realising what he was doing, he’d connected to the mana. He’d listened to its flow and interpreted it as a melody sung by the garden. Perhaps without a life affinity, his experience sitting under the tree would have been different.

  The more he walked, the more he understood. From the food he’d eaten and the tree he sat under, he somehow began to grasp the difference between life mana and the plants that contained them, no, that wasn’t quite right. If everything is mana, then he understood how the plant mana carried the life mana, the two supporting each other in ways that were still beyond his ability to grasp.

  He wondered about the leaves he had for breakfast. They, too, somehow had life mana, yet weren’t they already separated from the plant? Could they really still be considered alive? So his second journey began. As he walked his path, he gained answers to questions he hadn’t even thought to ask.

  For each question that was answered, several more questions came to mind, some he found answers to as he ventured, while he could feel that he’d have to find the answers to others on his own.

  The path didn’t just whisper to him about his life affinity. He learned about his mind affinity too. He’d managed to clear his mind after what should have been his breaking point. He’d managed to perfectly recall things like his grandmother’s letter and Alvara’s guidance. He even managed to grasp something of the difference between mind and dream mana. The difference seemed a little like that of plant and life mana, though the specifics still eluded him.

  As he cautiously followed his path, the lessons turned from his affinities and mana to other things. It started speaking of patience and an open mind, of humility and an open heart. While the lessons on mana were easy to absorb, sating his curiosity, these new lessons grated on him.

  How could he be patient? He had six months to figure out how to use his affinities and follow Lara. He had no time for patience. Having an open mind? He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d never be a knight. That was about all the open-mindedness he could stomach right now. Humility? Hadn’t he already suffered humiliation? Finally, an open heart? What does that even mean?

  He tried to push forward, his caution warring with his desire to progress, but it was like he could feel a growing dissatisfaction from his path. It kept nudging him, trying to get him to explore, to learn. He kept waiting for it to change to a different topic again, to teach him more about mana or something useful that would let him follow Lara, but it stubbornly refused.

  He stubbornly pushed forward even as the night sky shifted and the stars spun. He resolutely ignored the Ways and pushed on. Alas, the resolve of a twelve-year-old was nothing compared to the grand workings of Starfarer magic. His attention was drawn to the sky above him, and he tried to resist and continue on, but the compulsion to look was irresistible.

  From a constellation that radiated an air of timeless patience and unwavering resolve, a star fell. Crashing towards him, the ball of light grew. He felt no danger from it, but a primal part of his brain still screamed at him to run as it hurtled towards him.

  The same compulsion that forced him to look kept his legs planted where they were. He fought to lift them as he continued to stare, but they felt so heavy. He strained with everything he had, but he might as well have tried lifting a mountain.

  The star crashed onto his path, blinding Felix as he stood frozen. It felt like hours passed as his vision recovered at an agonisingly slow pace. When he could finally see again, an ornate golden gate stood in front of him. Not grand and imposing as the entrance to the ways, instead, this gate looked like something you might find as a side entrance to a noble’s estate. Ornate and fine, made of gold, the gate stood open on his path, just wide enough so it blocked his way completely.

  Felix felt a foreign understanding of what was creeping into his mind. Having failed to learn what he needed to from his path, the Ways had presented him with his first gate. He looked back at the entrance of the ways, trying to see how far he’d traveled, only to be stupefied.

  While Felix had walked slowly, he’d been walking for a long time, yet the entrance was still right behind him. Carefully judging the distance, he hadn’t even doubled the six carts from when he’d started. Balling his fists at his side, he knew deep down that this wasn’t enough. If he wanted to keep up with Lara, he’d have to keep pushing.

  Taking a deep breath and trying to gather himself, he turned to the first gate. Something this early on shouldn’t be hard. He didn’t feel any danger from the gate. It simply stood open, the space beyond the gate twisted until he couldn’t make out anything about what lay beyond.

  Not wanting to give himself time to waver, Felix closed his eyes and rushed in.

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