Abbernathy and Magick's End |Trilogy Now Complete!

(30) - One Last Step, Ivory Slippers -

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THE STEPS of the Acadium loomed before Abby, each a mountain impossible to climb. Though she had climbed them many times before. But it was different now. She wasn't just taking a stroll with Mandon as he showed her the various upgrades to the Acadium's housing wards and potioneering labs - accomplishments he was proud of since stepping into the vacated shoes of his predecessor.

Abby was an official student, the Acadium her home for the next four years, and caught in its shadow, it was like she'd forgotten how to walk.

Her ivory boots dragged along the cobbles, sweat pooling at her heels and soaking through her socks.

She grimaced, the comfort she'd always felt wearing them gone. It was like the shoesmith hadn't just repaired her shoes, but given her a brand new pair - they were unfamiliar, too clean, too unblemished, the leather too smooth, the laces perfectly held together, not a single thread frayed.

Her ivory boots had been scuffed and stained, toes scorched from an attempt to breed fire-belching plants, the idea one she'd gotten after an evening spent listening to Lucy whine about the cold.

But the shoes on her feet now were too heavy, too constricting, and sure to slow her down.

"Abs? You okay? You've been staring at those steps like they'll grow teeth and eat you." Sebbi glanced down at her, worry lines creasing his forehead, making him look near identical to the crinkled tunic he'd thrown on that morning. "We got here when it was still dark, and now--" He glimpsed over his shoulder, where the sun was just beginning to crest the Terrabound Mountains. Soft pinks and delicate plums haloed the great, white peaks. "The sun's rising."

She blew out, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag. It was an unwieldy thing, made that way because she'd refused to pack light and risk overlooking something. She had a dozen tunics, several pairs of trousers, a few light-weight dresses, extra quills, ink pots and beakers - though the school promised to provide every potioneering student with their own set, her ribbon box, her charm bracelet, her mother's worlds keys, and the painting Crum had gifted her on her thirteenth birthday.

"I'm fine." Her gaze drifted away from him toward the hill, where, during the school term, she had seen students huddled together, practicing magick, reciting incantations, and mixing different binders together to better observe their reactions. "Maybe the steps are like the Evernight's tree roots."

Sebbi snorted.

"You never know, perhaps their taste for flesh needs to be awakened."

"And you think your sweaty feet will be what draws out their hunger?"

"Hey!" She whipped around and lobbed an accusatory finger at Sebbi's chest. "I'll have you know my feet aren't that sweaty. There's only a pond gathered in the bottom of my boots, a small one at that. Fine feet for a step to feast on."

He leaned down and took her hand, cradling it gently between hers. "Abs--" His voice was so soft, so imperceptibly there, had a breeze blown it would have snatched it away and carried it over the mountains. "You've never been one to stay in a place for too long."

Her eyes fell to the ground, where once again, she tried to move her feet, and they wouldn't budge. "I had something worth running towards then," she whispered.

"And a spot at the Wizard's Acadium, studying under the best teachers in Mirea to master potioneering, isn't worth running towards?"

She fidgeted, her free hand bunching up the hem of her tunic. "It is. Or it should be. But--" Eyes wet, she turned to face him. "What if I trip? What if I fall and land on my face? What if--"