A few minutes later, Draven reached the castle gates, the blood on his clothes crusting beneath the rising sun.
He spotted a maid in the hall and said, "Run me a bath."
She blinked, eyes widening as she took in the stains. "Young Master... why are you covered in blood?"
Draven gave a tired smirk. "Don't worry. Ain't mine."
He left it at that and headed upstairs.
---
Warm water steamed around him as he sank into the bath. Muscles ached like hell, but beneath the soreness… something else stirred.
That hurt like crazy... he thought, closing his eyes. But I feel it. I'm stronger now. And I can see it—magic. Floating in the air like smoke in sunlight.
He took a long breath, exhaled slow.
After cleaning up, he got dressed, pulling on fresh clothes. "Bring me some food," he told the maid when she returned. "Take it to the library."
"Yes, Young Master," she replied, bowing lightly before leaving.
Guess Mom and Dad still ain't back, he thought as he walked through the halls, boots quiet on the stone floor.
---
In the library, Draven pulled a heavy book from the shelf: Basic Elemental Magic.
I never cared much for magic, he thought, flipping it open. But what else is there to do but read?
The old pages whispered as he turned them.
> Long ago, before the first sword was forged, before kingdoms rose and fell, the world sang with the pure resonance of the elements.
Fire danced in the skies. Water whispered secrets to stone. The winds carried dreams, and the earth pulsed with memory. From this harmony was born the Art: Elemental Magic.
Each soul resonates with one—and only one—of the Six Great Elements. This resonance is invisible to the eye but perceptible to those trained in the Arcanum.
Some wield only a single element. Others, a rare few, control many. To master all is almost unheard of...
Draven paused. So those who can use all the elements are extremely rare...
Draven leaned back. So... people like that actually exist? Folks who can use everything? He smirked. Yeah, right.
A knock interrupted his thoughts. The door creaked open.
The maid walked in, carefully balancing a tray. "Your food, Young Master."
Draven sat up. "When are my parents coming back?"
She placed the tray down and answered softly, "They won't be returning tonight."
He frowned. "Why not?"
"I... I wasn't told, Young Master."
He waved her off. "That's all right. You can go."
She left, and Draven sat alone in the tall, quiet room. He stared at the old book, appetite fading.
I hope nothin' happened. But if the old man is with her... they'll be alright. Don't think there's nobody takin' him down easy.
He finished the meal, then soon went to bed.
---
The next day came. Then the next. A whole week passed.
Been a week, Draven thought, sitting in the library again, flipping through pages more out of habit than focus. When are they comin' back?
Just then, the door swung open.
The maid rushed in, claimed . "Young Master—the Lord and Madam have returned!"
He shot up, the book thudding closed behind him as he ran out of the room, feet pounding down the halls.
I know I'm grown ass man... but damm hell right now, I'm runnin' like a little kid. Can't help it. Never had a real family before.
He turned the last corner—and there they were.
Without thinking, he ran straight into his mother's arms. She caught him, laughing softly.
"How you been, baby?" she asked, pulling him close and kissing his forehead.
His father stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever. "Hope you didn't slack off while we were gone."
Draven chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Course not."