Zen…

  It’s hard for me to write this letter.

  Much harder than any before it.

  I wrote the first line…

  and then sat staring at it for probably half an hour.

  For the first time, the words feel like they’re resisting.

  Today we were told something that still makes my hands shake.

  Our class is being sent on a year-long exchange to another kingdom.

  Not for a month.

  Not for a few weeks.

  For a year.

  A whole year.

  The teachers were happy for us.

  The royal family was proud.

  Students from other courses were jealous.

  Lyrella was glowing as if she’d been gifted her own continent.

  I should be happy—it’s an honor for the elite class.

  A chance to gain different experience, see other schools of magic, learn new cultures, enter libraries closed to all but the chosen.

  But the very first thought that appeared in my mind was completely different.

  “What about Zen?”

  It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Absurd.

  But my chest felt tight.

  As if the air suddenly grew heavier.

  As if the future itself had dimmed.

  You’ll be entering the Academy soon.

  And I won’t be there.

  I won’t be there when you first step into the main hall.

  I won’t be there when you meet those who try to understand you—or judge you.

  I won’t be there when you take your first step into a new world.

  I won’t be there to come up beside you and silently say with a look that you’re not alone.

  I promised I would protect you…

  and now, every time—

  And worst of all…

  I won’t even be able to write to you.

  Letters will take too long—

  the road crosses two kingdoms and the sea.

  They could take months.

  Or be lost entirely.

  I’m afraid we’ll lose something important between the lines.

  That you’ll change and I won’t know.

  That I’ll change and you won’t see it.

  That silence will appear between us—too long, too deep.

  It hurts.

  So much.

  I imagined so many times how we would grow side by side.

  How we would compete.

  How your Academy and mine would intertwine.

  How we would laugh at our successes and failures.

  And now…

  Now I’m leaving.

  And you’ll stay here without me.

  I’m scared.

  I shouldn’t write like this—

  I’m supposed to be strong.

  I’m supposed to be a leader.

  But with you, I can be myself.

  You always saw in me not a title,

  not a surname,

  not power…

  but a person.

  You’re the one who first made me think,

  search,

  learn,

  doubt,

  understand.

  And it’s hard for me to accept that a whole year of my life will pass without you.

  But I promise one thing:

  I will return stronger than ever.

  And we’ll continue from the place where we stopped.

  You are my goal, Zen.

  Not in the sense of rivalry.

  But in the sense of a path.

  You are the one who first made me think, search, learn, understand.

  And I don’t want to lose this connection.

  I’m afraid you’ll become so strong that I won’t be able to catch up.

  That you’ll forget me—or that I’ll start forgetting you.

  Even if the distance between us becomes enormous—

  I will keep you in my heart.

  Until I return.

  — Mira