The walk to the oak tree looks completely different now. The lush green tunnel of summer has vanished, replaced by a vibrant explosion of color. The trees lining the path are ablaze with crimson, burnt orange, and gold. The ground is carpeted in crunching leaves that snap satisfyingly under my boots with every step.
I reach the bottom of the hill and look up.
Maria is already there.
She isn't sitting against the trunk today. She's standing near the edge of the slope, looking out over the valley with her hands clasped behind her back.
She looks ready for the season. She is wearing a thick, cream-colored coat with silver buttons that goes down to her knees, paired with a dark woolen scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. Her white hair is tied back in a simple ribbon to keep it from whipping around in the wind.
I jog up the slope, my breath puffing out in white clouds.
"Hey, Maria!"
She turns around. Her face lights up the moment she sees me.
"Hey, Percy!"
I reach the top, catching my breath, grinning from ear to ear. I don't waste a second. I'm bursting to tell someone outside the house.
"I've got good news," I say, bouncing on my heels a little. "Like, huge news."
Maria tilts her head, her eyes widening with curiosity. "What is it? Did your father finish a big project?"
"Better," I say. I point a thumb at my chest. "I'm going to be an older brother. My mom is pregnant."
Maria's jaw drops.
"No way!" She gasps, stepping closer. "Really? A baby?"
"Really," I nod. "Found out last night."
"That is amazing, Percy!" She clasps her hands together, beaming. "Oh, do you know if it's a boy or a girl? Have you picked names? Is your mom okay?"
I laugh, holding up my hands to slow her down. "We don't know yet. And Mom is doing great. But seriously, can you imagine me with a baby? I'm going to have to teach them everything."
"You're going to be great," she says earnestly. "You're already so responsible. That baby is going to be lucky."
"I hope so."
We spend the next twenty minutes just talking about it. Maria asks a million questions about babies, apparently, and I answer them as best I can. It's nice. It feels normal. Just two kids excited about the future.
"Come on," she says eventually, tugging on my sleeve. "Let's walk. It's too cold to stand still."
We leave the oak tree behind, heading down the other side of the slope toward the edge of the forest where the field meets the tree line.
We walk through the tall, golden grass, chatting about nothing in particular. Maria seems lighter today, too. Usually, she carries herself with that strict, learned elegance, but today she's kicking at piles of leaves and laughing when the wind messes up her bangs.
"Hey, watch this," she says suddenly, stopping near a large puddle of rainwater that has collected in a dip in the ground.
She turns to me, a mischievous glint in her green eyes. "I've been practicing something new. It's cooler than the wind spell."
"Oh yeah?" I cross my arms, grinning. "Let's see it."
She steps up to the puddle. She takes a breath, but she doesn't stiffen up like she used to. She looks relaxed. Comfortable.
She holds her hand out over the water, palm down.
"Spirits of Water, heed my call," she says, her voice clear and happy. "Gather the cold. Harden. Create Ice."
The effect is immediate.
Crackle.
The surface of the puddle ripples, and then, starting from the center under her palm, frost shoots outward like a spiderweb. It spreads rapidly, turning the muddy water white and solid. Within seconds, the entire puddle is frozen over with a thick sheet of ice.
Maria spins around to face me, her face flushed with joy.
"I did it!" she cheers, doing a little hop. "I froze it!"
"That was awesome!" I shout, genuinely impressed. "It froze so fast!"
"I know! My mother said ice is harder because you have to change the temperature, not just move the mana," she explains, breathless and smiling. "I had to practice the chant for weeks to get the structure right."
I look at her beaming face. Then, I look at the ice.
A pang of guilt shoots through me.
She worked for weeks on that. She studied the theory. She practiced the chant. She earned that ice.
Me? I could do that in my sleep. I don't need a chant. I don't need weeks. I just need to remember high school physics molecular deceleration. I'm cheating. I'm playing a game with a strategy guide while she's figuring it out level by level.
I almost tell her. I almost say, 'Hey, you don't need the words. Just think about the atoms slowing down.'
But I stop myself.
If I tell her, I take this moment away from her. If I tell her, her hard work feels less valuable.
"You're getting really good at this," I say instead, pushing the guilt down.
"I am, aren't I?" She grins, kicking the frozen puddle with her boot. It makes a solid thud. "Watch out, Percy. Pretty soon I'm going to be the strongest mage in the kingdom."
"We'll see about that," I laugh. "But for now, I'll admit... that was pretty cool."
We continue walking along the edge of the forest, the excitement of the ice spell slowly settling into a comfortable rhythm. The wind picks up, rustling the canopy of turning leaves above us, sending a shower of gold and crimson drifting down around us like confetti.
"You know," Maria starts, her voice taking on a slightly more serious, thoughtful tone. She clasps her hands behind her back again, kicking a pinecone out of her path. "My mother and I were talking last night. About the future."
I look over at her, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. "Yeah? What about?"
"Well, my birthday is coming up soon. I'll be turning six." She pauses, looking up at the sky through the branches. "She told me that shortly after I turn six, my parents and I are going to be moving."
I stop walking. "Moving?"
"Yes," she nods, turning to face me. "We're moving way up North. To the city of Shaltier."
My mind races, pulling up the map I memorized from Sylvia's book. Shaltier isn't just the next town over. It is deep in the heart of the Northern Territories, part of the Milten Kingdom. It is a land of perpetual snow and ice, months of travel away by foot.
"That's... really far," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "Why the move?"
"There is a magic academy there," Maria explains, her green eyes lighting up with a mixture of ambition and nerves. "The Shaltier Academy of Sorcery. My mother says it is one of the two most prestigious magic schools in the entire world. They accept students with high aptitude early, to begin their formal training."
She takes a deep breath, clutching her scarf a little tighter.
"I told my parents that I want to go. I told them that I want to become a Mage. Not just someone who knows a few spells, but a real Mage. It's my dream, Percy."
I stare at her.
On the surface, I force a smile onto my face. I widen my eyes in impressed surprise.
"Maria, that's incredible! Shaltier? That's like... the big leagues. If you get in there, you're going to be unstoppable."
But internally, my stomach drops.
She's leaving.
The thought hits me harder than I expect. For the past two years, Maria has been the only person in this world outside of my parents who I can really talk to. She's my first friend.
"My father..." Maria continues, looking down at her boots. "He's amazing. He didn't even hesitate. He said he is willing to sacrifice anything to make my dream come true. He's already looking into selling the house here and arranging transport."
She looks up at me, and her smile falters, replaced by a look of genuine sadness.
"But... that means leaving you down here, Percy. I don't want to leave my friend."
The sadness in her voice hits me right in the chest. I want to tell her I'll miss her. I want to ask her to stay.
But I don't. This is her dream. She deserves this.
I step forward, making sure my grin doesn't waver for a second.
"Hey, don't look like that," I say, putting on my best confident voice. "You have to go. It's an amazing opportunity."
"I know," she says softly. "But..."
"But nothing," I interrupt gently. "We aren't going to stop being friends just because you're in a different city."
Maria offers a small, hopeful smile. "I will definitely be writing to you. As often as I can. And... maybe you can even visit? It's a long trip, I know, but..."
"Visit?" I laugh, extending my hand toward her. "You can count on it."
She looks at my hand, then back at my face.
"I'm going to be an adventurer one day, remember?" I say. "Traveling the world is part of the job description. I'll make my way up to Shaltier, and I'll come find you. That's a promise."
I close my eyes for a split second. I visualize the map. I visualize the city of Shaltier in my mind, locking it in like a target for a fastball.
I will go there.
Maria's expression clears. She reaches out and grabs my hand. Her grip is firm, her skin cold from the autumn air but her shake is solid.
"Okay," she nods. "It's a promise then."
We stand there for a moment, shaking hands in the middle of the golden field, the wind swirling around us.
"Now," I say, letting go and clapping my hands together. "Since you're leaving soon, we have to make the most of the time we have left, right? We can't waste today being sad."
"You're right," she agrees, the sparkle returning to her eyes.
The rest of the day is a blur of activity. We don't talk about Shaltier or the move again. We run through the fields, chasing each other through the tall grass until our lungs burn. We skip stones on the frozen surface of the lake and talk about everything and nothing.
I keep the mask on tight. I laugh when she laughs. I smile when she smiles.
I bury the feelings of sadness away.
The next few weeks pass in a haze of golden sunlight and falling leaves, a fleeting stretch of warmth before the true cold of winter sets in.
We make a silent pact to ignore the ticking clock. We don't talk about packing crates or travel routes. We just live.
One afternoon, we trekked out to the old abandoned windmill near the river. The village kids whispered that it was haunted by a restless spirit, but Maria marched right in, her nose held high. When a "ghostly moan" echoed from the rafters, she didn't scream. She raised her hand, ready to freeze the spirit solid. It turned out to be a very grumpy barn owl, which hissed at us before flying off. We laughed so hard we nearly fell into the creek on the way back, soaking our boots in the freezing water.
Another day, during the village Harvest Festival, we sat on top of a stack of hay bales, watching the bonfire crackle in the town square. We shared a warm, flaky nut pastry, passing it back and forth, getting crumbs everywhere. She told me about the specific types of wands they use in the Milten Kingdom crafted from white ash and frost-glass to channel the ambient cold and I listened to every word, memorizing the excitement in her voice rather than the facts themselves.
But reality has a way of intruding.
As the days dwindled, the signs of their departure became impossible to ignore. I saw Soldat at the workshop more often, not to buy furniture, but to finalize the sale of their estate to a wealthy merchant from the capital. I watched from a distance as wagons were loaded with trunks, stripping the Grimgrove manor of its life, leaving it looking like a hollow shell.
Then, the day arrives.
It is late autumn. The world has turned grey and brown. The vibrant colors of the season are rotting on the ground, and the trees stand like skeletons against a steel-grey sky. The air is heavy with the metallic scent of impending snow.
I am standing outside the gate of my cottage.
A massive, black carriage sits on the main road. It's an expensive vehicle, reinforced with iron and drawn by four heavy draft horses that stamp their hooves impatiently in the dirt, their breath puffing out in thick white plumes.
My parents are standing by the carriage door, talking with Soldat and Elise. The mood isn't somber; it's warm.
"We wish you safe travels, Soldat," Roxas says, shaking the man's hand firmly. "The North is harsh, but if anyone can thrive there, it's your family."
"Thank you, Roxas," Soldat replies, his voice steady. "And thank you for the work on the chests. They'll keep our belongings safe."
Elise is hugging Sylvia, the two women exchanging whispered promises to write.
I tune them out. My attention is focused entirely on the girl standing a few feet away from the adults.
Maria.
She looks like a doll ready to be put back in her box. She is wearing a thick, deep burgundy travel coat with a high collar lined in white fur. Her hair is braided tightly against her head to keep it neat for the long journey, and she's wearing sturdy leather travel boots.
She isn't crying. She's smiling. It's a brave, bright smile that tries to defy the grey sky.
I walk over to her, my hands shoved deep into my pockets to hide the fact that I'm clenching my fists.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," she replies, rocking back on her heels.
We stand there for a second, the silence stretching between us, heavy with all the things we aren't saying.
I take a breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. I pull my hands out of my pockets and offer her the gentlest smile I can muster.
"Maria," I say softly. "I'm so glad I got to meet you."
Her eyes soften, the green irises shimmering slightly.
"I am as well, Percy," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "You've been such a good friend. The best friend I could have asked for."
I look over at our parents. They are all smiling at us, watching the two "children" say goodbye. To them, this is just a cute childhood friendship. They don't know that she was the only person who made this new world feel real to me. They don't know that she was the catalyst that woke me up.
This isn't a time to be sad. If I cry, she might cry. And she needs to leave with her head held high.
"You're going to knock them dead at the Academy," I say.
Maria laughs, a wet, shaky sound.
Suddenly, she steps forward. She closes the gap between us and throws her arms around my neck.
It catches me off guard, but only for a second. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her back tightly. The fur of her collar tickles my chin. She smells of lavender soap and the cold autumn wind.
"I'm going to miss you, Percy," she whispers into my ear.
"Me too, Maria," I whisper back. "Me too."
She pulls back, sniffing once, and wipes her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. She looks at me, her determination returning.
She reaches out and gives me a firm, playful punch on the shoulder.
"Don't you dare break our promise," she says, feigning a stern look. "You better come find me."
"I never break a promise," I say, rubbing my shoulder.
"Maria! It's time to go!" Soldat calls out from the carriage door.
Maria turns. She looks at her parents, then back at me one last time. She flashes a brilliant, blinding smile, one that burns itself into my memory.
"Goodbye, Percy!"
She turns on her heel and runs to the carriage. Soldat helps her up the steps. She disappears into the dark interior of the cabin. Elise follows, then Soldat.
The heavy door slams shut with a finality that echoes in my chest.
"Hyah!" the driver shouts, snapping the reins.
The horses lurch forward. The massive wheels grind against the gravel, groaning as they take the weight.
I walk out onto the middle of the road.
I watch the black carriage slowly roll away. It moves past the village square, past the bakery, getting smaller and smaller as it heads toward the main northern road.
Memories flash through my head like a flickering lantern.
The first time I saw her under the oak tree, looking like a miniature noble.
The way her eyes lit up when she explained mana theory.
The splash of water when she cast her first wind spell.
The sound of the ice cracking over the puddle.
The carriage becomes a speck, then a blur, and then it disappears over the crest of a hill.
She's gone.
I stand there in the middle of the road, the cold wind biting at my face, staring at the empty horizon. The silence rushes back in, louder than before. The village feels smaller. The world feels a little less colorful.
I let out a long, shaky breath, watching the dust settle where the wheels had been.
See you later, Maria.