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Three weeks after his awakening, Zephyr stood at the edge of Brightmoor town, preparing to leave everything he had ever known behind.
He hadn't been accepted into any of the prestigious academies, nor invited to join any elite taming corps. But there was one place that had agreed to take him. It was called Lowmoor Academy. It wasn't built for legends. It was a place for the forgotten: low rank tamers, feed farmers, stable hands, and beast workers. The kind of people who existed in the shadow of true power.
His acceptance wasn't earned through talent or achievement. It was a courtesy, a quiet recommendation passed down by Lady Alira Ves after her unexpected visit. They wouldn't train him to fight, and they wouldn't teach him to tame dangerous creatures. But they would give him shelter, a barn to clean, beasts to feed, and a stable boy's apron. It was enough for his parents.
So… His mother packed his coat without a word, her fingers folding the fabric with care, eyes misted but dry. His father stood at the door, arms crossed, jaw clenched as if holding back everything he wanted to say.
"Come back stronger," his father finally said.
Zephyr didn't reply. He only nodded.
Outside, the merchant's cart waited for him. It was wooden, creaky, piled high with sacks of feed and crates of preserved roots. The driver spat into the snow and jerked his thumb toward the back. Zephyr moved to climb aboard when a familiar voice called from behind him.
"Wait."
He turned, and there she was, Fenna Dale.
She carried a small pack slung over one shoulder and wore a light green cloak stitched with beast mark sigils along the sleeves. Her long chestnut-brown hair was tied in a ponytail, swaying gently in the breeze, and a soft green ribbon bound it tight. Her hazel eyes met him with quiet certainty.
"I'm going with you," she said.
He blinked. "Fenna... you don't have to…"
"I know." She stepped forward, her boots crunching through the frost. "But I want to. I am also an awakened tamer. A-Rank." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "They offered me a place at Lowmoor Academy."
Zephyr couldn't hide his shock. " You are an A-Rank. You can join a better academy. Why do you want to waste your talents? "
She smiled sheepishly. "Guess…" then she continued, "I want to be with you. Ahem! I mean I can accompany you in an unknown place. We are childhood friends. We will look after eachother. It's that sound good?"
He stared at her, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. There was none.
She reached for his hand. "Besides, you didn't really think I was going to let you face this alone, did you?"
His throat tightened, and the wind suddenly felt warmer. "No," he whispered. "I guess not."
They climbed into the cart together, side by side beneath a shared blanket of snow dusted cloth. As the cart rumbled down the path out of Brightmoor, away from the fields and broken dreams and toward whatever lay ahead, Zephyr looked over at the girl who had always stood beside him.
And for the first time since his awakening, he didn't feel alone.
The wheels of the rickety cart screeched against the dirt trail as the misty horizon swallowed Brightmoor behind them. Zephyr sat near the back, legs tucked close, arms resting over his satchel. Beside him, Fenna adjusted the hood of her cloak, her chestnut ponytail slipping free beneath it. The cold gnawed at them both, but neither spoke. Not yet.
Snow fell lightly over the fields, the silence between them filled only by the creaking of old wood and the distant caws of mana-crows above.
Zephyr glanced at her. "Still time to jump off and go back."
Fenna gave him a side eye glance. "You say that like I was ever here for anyone else."
He smiled faintly but said nothing. Lowmoor academy wasn't far, just a six hours journey by merchant cart. But the road felt longer. Like it was dragging them not just away from home, but toward something they couldn't quite name.
They passed frost draped trees and beast grazing posts long abandoned for the winter. For a while, they rode in silence again, until Fenna spoke.
"I read about Lowmoor academy last night," she said, shifting in her seat. "It started as a beast hospice during the southern wars. They only turned it into an academy after the war ended and no one else wanted the land."
"Makes sense," Zephyr muttered. "It smells like it."
She elbowed him. "It's not so bad. It's somewhere to start."
"For you, maybe," he said, bitterly creeping into his voice. "You're an A-rank. They'll teach you how to handle elite beast lines, maybe even offer a scholarship. I'm just feeding the things."
Fenna looked at him. Her hazel eyes softened. "Then you'll be the best beast feeder they've ever seen."
Before he could respond, the cart jolted to a stop. The walls of Lowmoor academy rose before them. It was low, gray stone streaked with moss and soot. No towers. No guards in shining armor. Just a wooden gate with two half-frozen guards yawning behind worn scarves.
Above them, a weather-stained sign read: Lowmoor Academy of Beast Professions
The driver grunted. "End of the line, brats. Time to say goodbye."
Zephyr stepped down, boots crunching in the snow. Fenna followed, pulling her small pack over her shoulder.
A stocky guard holding a clipboard squinted at them. "Names?"
"Zephyr Valorian. Fenna Dale," she replied confidently.
The guard flipped through the board, eyebrows lifting. "F-rank utility… and huh… A-rank. Are you two related?"
"No, not yet" Fenna said quickly, stepping closer to Zephyr. She holds his hands tightly to her chest then, "We're together."
Zephyr nearly choked, but the guard just snorted and handed them two brass tags.
"Caretaker Wing B. Row Three. You'll be briefed at the stable office. Young miss, you will be on Wing A. In the student dormitory."
With no other instructions, they passed through the gate and stepped onto the grounds.
The courtyard was wide and cracked, lined with training sheds, grooming barns, and a low-roofed central hall. Students moved back and forth between pens and buildings, some leading beasts on leashes, others shoveling hay or studying feed charts. It looked less like an academy and more like a work camp.
"This place is…" Fenna trailed off.
"Everything I expected," Zephyr finished grimly.
But she took his hand."It'll get better. We have each other's company." After that they parted ways. She left for wing A, students dormitory.
Zephyr rooms were in the Caretaker Dormitory, separated by only a hallway. His quarters were as plain as his future, narrow bed, chipped desk, and a trunk with one working latch. A small pamphlet sat on the bed.
'Caretaker Orientation: Feeding Protocol, Beast Behavior, and Cleaning Rotations'
He didn't even touch it. The real work began the next morning. "UP! Thirty minutes till the feeding shift!" came a voice from the hall.
Zephyr dressed in the cold, fingers numb. He pulled on his coat, looped his red scarf around his neck, and grabbed his assigned wooden token pouch.
"Ready?" a man asked him.
"Don't think anyone's ever ready for manure duty," he said.
They made their way through the snow-covered paths toward the stables. The fog clung low and thick, hiding much of the academy grounds in muted gray.
Stable Row Three stank.
The first pen held some Scruff Horn boar. Rank E beasts. Hardy herbivores with aggressive attitudes. Used in footwork drills. Known to charge at anything red. Looked same as wild boars with horns.
Zephyr quickly realized he had made a mistake wearing the red scarf. Fenna came to check on him. She laughed as he ducked a tusk swipe.
The second pen held Silver Claw pika. Rank D beast. Speed-type rodents. Sensitive to noise. Eat five times their body weight in a day. It practically looked like a ball with a silver claw.
"Why do they all look like they're on fire?" Zephyr asked, staring at the twitching furballs bouncing off walls.
"They're stimulant-fed," said a voice behind him. A short man stood beside a grain pile, arms folded, sleeves rolled up to reveal claw scars.
Name: Grent. Age: 29 Rank E Skill: Muck Manipulation. Veteran beast caretaker. Known for sarcasm, stamina, and secretly liking kids with backbone.
"You're the new feeder, right? The manure prince himself."
Zephyr sighed. " Call me Zephyr."
Grent nodded, then looked at Fenna. "You?"
"A-rank. I'm here to help my friend, I am an academy student. My class starts next week." she replied.
Grent let out a low whistle. "Fancy. Well, you can do whatever you want."
He tossed Zephyr both a bucket. "Start with the pikas. If they pile on, scream. If they chew your pants off… still scream."
The next six hours were a blur of heat, smell, kicks, and curses. Zephyr chased down runaway goats, scrubbed fur clumps from stable walls, and nearly got gored by a bored Rockhide Lizard. Rank D beast. Defense-type. Prone to tail slaps. Immune to fire magic. Hates being stared at.
Fenna wasn't spared either. One of the boars tried to eat her herb pouch. She swatted it with a ladle. By midday, they sat beside the pikas' pen, panting.
Huff! Huff!
Zephyr leaned back against the fence, letting the cold numb his spine. "This is hell."
Fenna sipped water from her flask. "You mean heaven."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Because," she said, holding out her palm, "watch this."
She dropped a few sprigs of her cultivated leaf mix into the feed trough. The pikas, jittering seconds ago, suddenly stilled. Their ears twitched. Their noses twitched. Then they sat in a neat line… waiting.
Zephyr started. "How did you do that?"
"My herb resonance. It calms basic instincts." She smiled. "They like my scent."
He shook his head in disbelief. "You're scary."
She poked his shoulder. "You're the one who made the grain glow earlier."
He blinked. "You saw that?"
"I did," she said softly. "The moment you poured it in, the feed shimmered. It resonated. Your skill is not useless, Zephyr. You just don't see what I see."
He looked away, unsure how to answer. Her words stuck with him longer than he expected.
That evening, the caretakers gathered in the dining hall. Rough-hewn benches, wooden bowls, dull chatter. Zephyr and Fenna sat at the edge of a table. No one acknowledged him. Yet for once, Zephyr didn't feel the ache of being alone because Fenna was with him.
He had a job. A bed. And a companion who hadn't left his side even when the world turned its back. As he spooned lukewarm broth into his mouth, the something inside him, the one hidden, sealed, and silent still remained dormant moved.
A shift? A change? He doesn't know. And when it will awaken… he wouldn't be a loser. He will change the world.