The day began like many others, but today, something felt different.I found myself beneath the twisted black-barked tree again, the place where Fen had first awakened the flow of mana within me. The air was heavy with the scent of soil and rotting wood, yet there was a quiet peace under its gnarled branches, as though the tree was waiting for something—waiting for me to become something more.
I closed my eyes and began.
Breathing in the mana around me, slowly, deeply. It wasn't just air that I drew into my lungs anymore. With every breath, mana seeped into my body, filling the hollow spaces that had once been so painfully empty.
At first, my limbs trembled like they were fighting the energy. It felt like I was wading through an ocean of resistance, my body aching, but it wasn't pain anymore—just an uncomfortable push. Then, the pressure behind my eyes came, familiar now, like the shift from the vague discomfort of growing pains to the sharp thrill of reaching for something new.
As the mana coursed through me, I thought about how this—this magic—could be the key to improving my health, to undoing the damage of my past. It wasn't just about surviving, not anymore. With every breath, I could feel my body growing stronger, the muscle wastage that had once defined me slowly starting to fill in. The changes weren't immediate, but they were real. I could feel my limbs responding, the pulse of magic flowing through my veins, giving me more than I had ever dared hope for.
The words my mother had whispered to me when I was young came back, clearer now than ever: "Take care of yourself, Elias. Don't let your body become a stranger to you."
I straightened, inhaling deeply, and made my decision once again: I will live. Not just exist. Not just fade away in the shadow of my past life. I will live.
With that resolve, I headed for the great hall of House Dorne.
The great hall echoed with silence as I approached the dais, the cold marble pillars watching over me like silent sentinels. Etched into them were the symbols of battles fought long before I had even drawn breath—the legacy of my family, both their victories and their bloodshed.
At the far end of the hall, seated on his throne of stone, was Lord Armath Dorne, the Sword of the Eastern Dominion. A Sixth-tier Sword master whose figure was an immovable presence, cloaked in black steel, his piercing eyes sharper than any blade in the armory.
"You've grown," he said, his voice cold but not unkind.
I bowed low. "My lord."
He studied me with a gaze that seemed to see through the layers of flesh and bone, searching not just my body but my soul. His eyes narrowed, sensing something new.
"There's... something," he muttered. "A faint flicker in your body. Mana?"
I straightened, meeting his gaze. "I came to request something, my lord."
He gestured for me to continue, the motion casual, though his posture remained as firm and cold as ever.
"I need a teacher," I said. "Someone who can instruct me in magic."
A heavy silence settled between us, the air thick with the weight of my request.
"Magic," he repeated, his voice carrying the weight of House Dorne's history. "This is House Dorne. Our name is carved into the battlefield. We are swordsmen, Caelan—not spell scribes. Do you understand what it means to ask for this?"
I didn't look away. Not now, not when I was so close.
"Yes," I said. "But I want to live, Father."
The words hung in the air, unspoken thoughts floating between us, before he looked away—perhaps lost in some distant memory, perhaps reflecting on a time when another voice had asked him the same thing.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he spoke.
"So be it," he said, rising from his seat with a fluid grace that belied his age. "You will have your teacher."
He turned his back to me, gazing out through the windows as the light of the day slowly filtered in. His hands clasped behind him, and his voice, soft yet unyielding, reached me.
"Your brother—Seren—will be named heir."
I blinked, the words hitting me harder than I'd expected.
"I understand." He reached the third tier of the Sword Path at twelve. He is thirteen now. And I am... fourteen, barely standing.
Seren Dorne. Golden-haired prodigy. Trained by Armath himself. His strikes were said to break shields at thirteen.
He was everything I wasn't. Everything I could never be.
But as I stepped out of the hall, my mind swirling with a mix of emotions—fear, determination, uncertainty—something settled inside me. It wasn't defeat. It wasn't jealousy.
It was resolve.
Later, as I walked through the corridors of the estate, the echoes of my father's words still lingering in the air, I passed by a familiar face. The lady, dressed in the colors of the Valek line, bowed low as I walked past her. The crest on her uniform wasn't the sword of House Dorne... but the black fang of the Valek family.
Seren's mother—Lady Nyra Valek.
The Panther of Raves. A swordmistress of the old ways, she was a legend in her own right. She once wielded a Ripper Blade—serrated edge, soul-bound, designed not just to tear flesh, but to rip the very will of the enemy from their soul.
The Valeks had always been feared, not just for their strength, but for their cold efficiency. It made sense. Seren's precision, his calm fury, his instinct to strike clean through anything in his way—it wasn't just Dorne steel. It was Valek blood.
And I? I had my mother's name... but none of her strength left to guide me.
I stopped in my tracks, turning to face her as she passed me. She glanced over, her expression unreadable, but for the first time, I felt the weight of her gaze.
"Mother..." I whispered, the words feeling strange on my tongue. "Lady Nyra."
She paused. Her eyes flicked over me, noting my steadier frame. There was a soft surprise in her gaze, but it faded quickly.
"You're eating, finally," she said, her voice gentler than I expected. "Good. A Dorne heals best when he remembers he's not just bones and duty."
I nodded, though her words did little to soothe the ache in my chest. She had never been there for me when I needed her most. She had watched from the sidelines while I deteriorated.
"If you really cared about me, why didn't you help?" I thought bitterly, but the words didn't leave my mouth. Instead, I took a deep breath and walked away, not looking back.
I had my own path now.