After the wild sprint through canyons and near midair kidnapping earlier that morning, Mia had hoped her first day of beast taxi work would calm down—and, surprisingly, it did.
The afternoon passed in a whirl of routine but oddly satisfying trips. A grandmother needed a lift across the city to her favorite tea market. A pair of young siblings were running late to a birthday party on the other side of the river. One eccentric old gentleman insisted she take him up just high enough so he could feed breadcrumbs to skyfinches for exactly twenty minutes before being dropped off exactly where he started. Mia took it all in stride.
Hootsworth was a professional in the air, even if he occasionally muttered about the lack of "literary stimulation" and Nut demanded tip snacks from passengers who dared bring trail mix aboard. By the time the sun dipped below the rooftops, painting the cobbled streets of Windmere in rich honey-gold, Mia felt worn but accomplished. She'd earned nearly two full silver marks in her first day—an impressive haul for a newbie rider.
She landed softly on the roof of her apartment building—converted staff housing near the elementary school—where the sleepy front security guard, old Mr. Tolley, waved her over with a thick envelope in hand.
"Evenin', Miss Greaves," he said with a grin, pushing the envelope through the little brass slot in the gate post. "Someone real fancy-looking dropped this off. Said it's for you. Hand-delivered, with a stamp and all."
Mia raised a brow, tugging off her gloves and opening the envelope. Inside was a heavy cream-colored invitation, written in embossed gold script:
To Miss Mia Greaves, Esteemed Educator of Class 1A—
You are cordially invited to a celebratory evening hosted by the Valemont family, in honor of the outstanding academic achievement of Class 1A at Windmere Elementary.
Venue: Valemont Estate Gardens
Time: 6:00 PM
Dress Code: Formal or Festive
Please join us alongside your students and their families as we celebrate a term of growth and triumph.
Mia blinked. "Valemont?" she muttered. "Oh—oh. That's Felix's family."
Felix Valemont, her soft-spoken, perpetually blushing student who somehow managed to ace every test while sharing his lunch with anyone who forgot theirs. His parents were famously low-key despite their absurd wealth, but apparently they'd decided to splurge in celebration.
For a brief moment, Mia considered skipping it. She wasn't great at formal events. Her wardrobe barely included anything "festive" that wasn't covered in fur from Nut's seasonal shedding. But then she thought of her students—their excited chatter during the exam week, the sparkle in their eyes when the trophy was announced, the way they'd screamed her name like she was a hero just for believing in them.
She sighed. "Fine. Fancy clothes it is."
At exactly 6:02 the next evening, Mia arrived outside the Valemont estate. She had brushed out her hair, borrowed a dress from one of the other teachers (a flowing forest green number with silver embroidery), and polished her boots to a near mirror shine. Hootsworth, unusually cooperative, was wearing a tiny bowtie clipped to the feathers at his throat. Nut was asleep in the saddle bag, dreaming of candied peanuts.
The estate gardens were breathtaking—terraced lawns, glowing lantern fruits hanging from skytrees, and polished moonstone pathways that glittered underfoot. Children chased sparkling beastflies around the flowerbeds while parents mingled over drinks that changed color every few sips. It was all delightfully excessive.
"Mia!" came a familiar voice.
Felix ran up to her, dressed in a tiny formal suit, his blond curls bouncing and cheeks already red with excitement. "You came! I told Papa you would!"
Mia crouched and gave him a quick hug. "I wouldn't miss a chance to party with my favorite little scholars."
He beamed, then dragged her toward the gathering.
"Come meet my uncle!" he said. "He's really cool. He makes potions that explode!"
Mia's brows lifted. "Wait. Did you say—"
They turned a corner and stopped in front of a small stone patio surrounded by whispering vines. And standing there, sipping from a glass of shimmering fruit cordial, was Rowan.
He wore a dark suit with green and gold trim, looking far more like a noble than a guildmaster. His eyes met hers, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Miss Greaves," he said smoothly. "We meet again."
Mia groaned. "Of course you're Felix's uncle. Why wouldn't you be?"
"I told you he was cool," Felix added proudly, unaware of the complicated history behind their last meeting.
Rowan chuckled. "Thank you, Felix. Could you fetch your mother for me? I believe she wanted help with the seating list."
Felix saluted like a tiny soldier and ran off.
Mia crossed her arms. "You could've mentioned you were a Valemont."
"You never asked," Rowan said innocently. "And I never lie. I am Guildmaster Rowan Caelis of the Windmere Alchemy Division, and yes, I am also the embarrassing uncle of one very academically successful third grader."
"I'm still recovering from our last flight," Mia muttered. "Your idea of a casual ride includes death gliders and potion bombs."
He offered a genuine smile this time. "And yet, you handled it brilliantly. Which is why I wanted to speak with you again. Or rather… with him."
He turned to Hootsworth, who straightened regally. "Yes?" the owl said. "Am I being offered a chance to lecture nobles on grammar?"
"Not quite," Rowan said. "You, sir, are the first Highwind Scholar I've seen evolve in such a specific path in over a decade. Your memory, your logic structures, your speech patterns—all show signs of a rare cognitive progression. I believe you may be capable of advanced alchemical processing."
Mia blinked. "You think Hootsworth can do alchemy?"
"With training," Rowan confirmed. "I'd like to offer him an apprenticeship at the Guild. Not as a pet. Not as a beast taxi. But as a partner. He would learn alongside our researchers. Publish papers. Perhaps even develop new hybrid theories between magical linguistics and potion alchemy."
Hootsworth dropped his teacup. "Oh my stars."
Mia stared. "You're serious?"
"Entirely," Rowan said. "You've done an incredible job nurturing his intelligence. But I suspect he's ready for more. And truthfully… you'd be doing the Guild—and the field—a great favor by letting him explore that potential."
Hootsworth was practically vibrating. "I could lecture herbs into blooming correctly. I could analyze syllabic resonance in mana crystal solutions!"
Mia looked between the two of them, then smiled. "Alright. But only part-time. He's still my partner. And someone needs to make sure Nut doesn't try to invent squirrel-based spell grenades again."
Rowan inclined his head. "Fair enough."
Mia extended her hand. "Welcome to academia, Professor Hootsworth."
He shook it with his wing, eyes gleaming behind his spectacles. "Finally. A place worthy of my footnotes."
The rest of the evening passed in warmth and laughter. Mia mingled with parents, danced a little with her students, and managed to sneak a second helping of gold-crusted dumplings. By the time the moon rose high, the party slowly winding down, she felt content in a way she hadn't in years.
She had a new side job. Her students were thriving. And now, her best friend had a future that soared higher than any sky path could ever take him.