The visit to Skywalk was a complete surprise. I never expected it to be such a meaningful and rewarding outing. While exploring the town, a promising clue caught my attention, a key to unlocking the puzzle surrounding my father’s whereabouts. The trail seemed to lead to a former male student of the academy who, two decades prior, had frequented the dusty shelves of an old bookstore I stumbled upon. Speculations began to arise. Could this student, whose face seemed to look like mine, actually be my dad? I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t ignore the feeling that I was onto something huge. Was this the breakthrough I had been waiting for?

A week later, Hans, my enthusiastic new friend at the academy, who always seemed to know what was going on, burst into the mess hall during lunch. His face was glowing with excitement. “Arianna, you won’t believe it!” he said, barely able to contain himself. “I found out that someone at the school might know more about your father.” The way he said it made it sound like this was it, the big lead I’d been waiting for. No time to waste, of course. Lina and I finished our plates and headed straight to the House of Arcane to meet Professor Aldair Shoren. Hans didn’t follow as he usually would. He had some other urgent matter to attend to, or so he claimed, but promised to catch up with us later.

Lina and I reached the building in no time and ascended the grand staircase to the third level, where the staff offices were located. The atmosphere changed as we climbed. It got quieter, like the place itself knew something important was about to happen. As soon as we stood before Professor Shoren’s door, I knocked softly. A voice from inside invited us in, and I felt like I was walking into some kind of old-world archive of magic and mystery.

Professor Shoren’s office was just as I’d imagined. Books everywhere, old furniture with that classic scholarly charm. It smelled like a place steeped in academic pursuit. The room was spacious, almost too big for just one person, but it felt convenient in a way. The professor himself, with his gray hair and soft eyes, greeted us kindly. It was a welcome that made you feel like you belonged, like you weren’t just there on business, but as someone with a genuine reason to be there. After we exchanged pleasantries, I didn’t waste any time. I jumped straight into the reason we’d come, my voice steady despite the rush of emotions. No small talk was needed. When you’re on a mission to find your loved ones, you go straight to the point.

“I remember your father vividly,” the professor began, crossing his arms as he delved into his memories. “He used to be a swordplay instructor here at the academy before he left rather abruptly. No notice, nothing. I must admit, I miss that man.”

“So, you were close to him, sir?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat.

“Indeed,” Professor Shoren replied with a nod. “He often sought refuge in my office. We’d have lengthy conversations about the Mirrindor kingdom and its floating isles. You see, I spent five years on an assignment there, exploring several islands in the Horlodor Archipelago. Your father was particularly fascinated by that region.”

My brows furrowed as I asked, “The Horlodor Archipelago, sir?”

“Yes,” the professor nodded again. “Your father had a keen interest in Mirrindor,” his eyes glinting as he pointed to a shelf packed with maps and books. “He borrowed everything I had on its floating islands.”

I could almost picture it. My dad, sitting in this very office, poring over those maps and books, studying those distant, magical lands. There was something both comforting and heartbreaking about that image.

“Could you tell me more about him, sir? What was my father like before he left the academy?” I pressed on, eager for any bit of information.

The professor’s eyes softened. He revealed my dad wasn’t really the social type. He kept to himself a lot. Even as a student, he had always been a loner, someone who preferred his own company. It made me sad to think of him alone in those quiet moments. At the same time, it made me even more determined to find him. If this was the person I was searching for, I had to find him.

“In my opinion, the most likely place your father might be is on one of the floating isles of Horlodor,” the professor concluded with a firm and confident voice.

“Are you certain, sir?” My voice betrayed the disbelief I felt. Could it be that simple? Could he really be there?

“Absolutely,” the professor confirmed with a nod. “I always thought he’d head to Mirrindor after getting the information he needed from me. But I don’t know why he would go there.” There was a long pause as he looked up at the ceiling, appearing lost in his own memories. Then he glanced at me and added, “However, I must caution you, young ladies. Visiting Mirrindor requires a permit, typically granted only to our kingdom’s imperial officials or those with academic purposes. Our diplomatic relationship with them is still delicate, despite three centuries of peace.”

That news hit me harder than I expected. A permit? That sounded like a major hindrance, something that would complicate the search for my dad even further. I tried to keep my disappointment in check, forcing myself to ask the next logical question. “Is there any other way to get there?”

The professor chuckled. “Well, you could always try smuggling yourself in if you’re brave enough.”

I forced a smile, and after taking a deep breath, I asked, “By the way, professor, do you have a picture of my father?”

It felt like a small request, but I had to ask. It would be a great help in my search for my dad, to show it to people and see if they had come across someone who looked like him.

The professor gave me a wistful smile. “I’m afraid not. Your father disliked being photographed. He refused every time I asked. But you might find a picture of him in the Staff Yearbook. All staff members are photographed annually.”

This was it. Now I could finally see what my dad looked like. Those blurred memories of his face were going to become clear. “Where can I find it, sir?” I inquired, feeling the familiar rush of possibility again.

“In the main library,” he replied simply.

“Thank you, sir,” I expressed my gratitude, before Lina and I offered farewell to the professor.

A quarter of an hour later, the two of us reached the Main Library. It wasn’t like the smaller libraries we’d been to on campus. This place was something else entirely. It almost felt like walking into the very heart of academia itself. The Main Library wasn’t just a place to grab a book. It was a hub of history and ideas, and if you looked closely enough, maybe even the answers to questions you’d been asking for years would come rolling in. I wasn’t sure if we’d find what we were looking for, but standing there, I had to confess, there was something about the place that made you feel like anything was possible. You couldn’t help but think, perhaps this is where the answers lie.

We stepped inside and made our way toward the counter. The librarian was a woman with a warm smile that immediately put me at ease. She had that impression that made you feel like you weren’t a burden, like you could ask the most ridiculous question and she’d still answer it as if it were the most important thing in the world. I raised my hand just enough to get her attention and tried to sound as polite as possible.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said. “Could you please tell us where we can find the Staff Yearbook?”

She looked up at me, her face lighting up. With a slight gesture, she pointed down the aisles toward a section of shelves on the first floor. “You’ll find the books in the C section,” she replied, her finger outlining an imaginary path in the air. “They’re on the third and fourth shelves from the top. You can’t miss them.”

I nodded, grateful for her help. Lina and I began our search, walking through the aisles.

In less than a minute, Lina spotted the shelf we were looking for. “Here it is, Arianna,” she said, waving her hand at me. The Academy Staff Yearbook collection was small, fewer than a hundred records, each one marked by the distinct year it represented. The spines were all different, but they shared a common theme. The school’s history. I ran my fingers over the textured covers, tracing the titles as if touching them would somehow bring me closer to the past.

We pulled each book down, flipping through the pages, hoping for a sign, some small clue that would point us to my dad. Every time I opened a book, my heart beat a little faster. What if he was in here? What if, just maybe, I would turn a page and there he was, staring back at me from some long-forgotten photograph?

But as the two of us turned each page, all we found were brief biographies. Stories of the staff members, their origins, their careers, but nothing that pointed to my dad. His name came up a few times, but it was always just a mention of his roots in my hometown and his time as a former student of the academy. That was it. Nothing more. My heart sank with every page. There had to be something, right? Anything that could help me figure out who he was, what he was like, why he’d been so secretive.

Lina broke the silence. “So, Professor Shoren was right about your dad,” she said quietly. “He really hated having his picture taken, didn’t he?”

I nodded, acknowledging my father’s strong aversion to the camera’s attention. It seemed his unwillingness stretched beyond the confines of the Staff Yearbook. Lina’s eyes met mine, and there was something in them. Something like empathy, but also hope. “Perhaps there’s a photo of him from his student days,” Lina said, almost as if the thought had just connected into place. “Remember, all first years have their photos taken. We just had ours last week.”

“You’re right,” I said, feeling the energy flare up again, shaking off the doubts that had held me back. “It’s in the Academy Student Yearbook, isn’t it?”

Lina nodded, and I could see she was already one step ahead. “Let’s go find it,” she said. And so, our search began anew.