Time flew by as the vast, rolling meadows receded from view. The train traversed rugged paths and towering, majestic mountains, but thanks to the enchantments woven into the carriage, the jolts were negligible, allowing the children to fall into a peaceful slumber.
Mary had drifted off without realizing it, her entire body leaning against Catherine. Catherine, who was resting her chin by the window while gazing outside, was caught off guard by the sudden weight, but she didn't react strongly or push Mary away. For some reason, every time a flicker of annoyance rose and she prepared to nudge Mary awake, she would catch a glimpse of the girl's serene face on her shoulder, and the words would catch in her throat, left unsaid.
Shaking her head slightly, Catherine simply let Mary sleep on her shoulder without moving or saying a word. Homus, sitting opposite them, had fallen asleep long before Mary, snoring loudly without a shred of decorum.
Outside, the scenery was gradually stained with the hues of twilight. The train was nearing its destination; ahead lay the coastline. This time, the train didn't brake or turn as it had before; instead, it glided seamlessly onto the surface of the sea. The waves parted under the train's influence, creating a long trail in its wake.
One by one, the children began to wake up. Countless faces pressed against the windows, their eyes shining like stars. Mary slowly stirred as well, lifting her head from Catherine's shoulder as a thin, silvery thread of drool stretching from her mouth to the uniform vanished into thin air.
Still dazed, Mary rubbed her eyes. As her vision cleared, she found Catherine looking intently at her, those emerald-blue eyes reflecting Mary's own silhouette. The two stared at each other for a few seconds until Mary fully regained her senses. Realizing she had been sleeping on Catherine's shoulder all this time, a look of panic crossed her face.
"Ah! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Catherine! Did I bother you?"
Catherine's expression remained as calm as ever as she gave a slight nod. "It's nothing."
"Thank... thank you."
Catherine glanced at the setting sun outside before tilting her head back toward Mary. "We're almost there, Mary. Do you plan to prepare yourself mentally before entering the academy?"
Mary tilted her head, confused. "What do you mean? Do you need mental preparation for school?"
As if she had expected that answer, Catherine didn't show any annoyance but began to explain slowly for Mary to understand. "My sister told me that when you enter the school, you'll encounter countless mystical phenomena. Once, she was so terrified by something strange that she couldn't sleep for days. So, she told me to prepare a few stress-relief spells, otherwise, I'd end up just like her."
Mary's mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say. "But... I don't know how to cast magic..."
Catherine paused for a moment, leaning in slightly toward Mary. "Do you at least know any incantations?"
Mary shook her head with a sheepish, slightly goofy smile. "I only found out about magic a few days ago. It was all from my dad's stories. He showed me some magic once, but I didn't understand a thing."
Catherine fell into deep thought, looking at Mary with utter disbelief. Although she knew Mary didn't come from a prestigious house, it was bizarre for a family with a mage to not guide their child from the start. Starting now was quite late. Children born to ordinary humans usually awaken their Magic Circuits from birth; through dreams or strange trances, they instinctively learn magic and incantations from a very young age, emitting a faint energy. This allowed mages to scout them—or seal their circuits if necessary. It was unheard of for a child over five to awaken their circuits, as the body gradually adapts to its environment, rejects mana, and prevents the circuits from ever fully maturing.
Catherine looked at Mary and finally spoke. "Mary, do you really not know how to use your own Magic Circuits?"
Mary shook her head, having no idea what a "Magic Circuit" was. Seeing that headshake, Catherine glanced at the Flower Crest on the back of Mary's hand and fell into thought once more.
In the magical world, it wasn't just a saying that a mage with a Crest was a great mage—it was a fact forged from the knowledge of countless predecessors. Ordinary mages have a "Magic Limit"; if they try to push past it, their bodies become polluted by knowledge, leading to self-destruction or turning into a rogue Dark Mage.
But a Crest-bearer was different. The most fundamental trait of a Crest is an almost infinite limit for both knowledge and magic. Every Crest has different effects, but all are terrifyingly powerful. Even the weakest Crest-bearer could easily defeat a seasoned veteran in a duel to the death without using a Magic Territory. According to those who had awakened their Crests, knowledge would manifest in their minds unexpectedly. If one awakened that knowledge during a battle, even a mage on the brink of death could turn the tide.
It was essentially a "BUG" in the magical world. Every High Mage of the Council possessed their own unique Crest. There was a saying carved into the river of history: "A truly powerful mage is one who bears a Crest."
Catherine couldn't wrap her head around it, but she decided to set the matter aside. After all, she had only known this girl for a few hours and wasn't close enough to ask such personal questions.
Mary watched the sunset through the window, her eyes widening in wonder. Having lived in a big city where buildings often obscured the horizon, she had never seen a sunset so clearly. The scene was incredibly beautiful. Suddenly, a sliver of golden light from the setting sun caught the edge of Catherine's hair. Mary followed the light; Catherine's black hair was now dyed a deep orange-red, and her profile against the window created a breathtakingly beautiful picture.
Mary couldn't look away. She stared for a long time before blurting out a sentence without context.
"So beautiful..."
Homus, who had woken up at some point, looked at Mary and then at Catherine, letting out a sharp whistle. "Heh, not bad, right?"