NADIEL'S POINT OF VIEW
The hour-long journey from the palace was a smooth rumble over the capital's perfectly laid cobblestone. We were heading toward the city's testament to magical engineering and raw power—the capital's most impressive feat of magical engineering: the Grand Nexus Port.
It functioned, for all intents and purposes, like a fantasy-Middleville airport, though it housed no flying machines. Instead, it was a massive, open-air marble plaza dominated by a single, breathtaking structure—a hub of transit and farewells—but its methods were far more elegant. The air here thrummed with a constant, low-level hum of contained energy. Commoners and merchants bustled about the open-air plaza, their voices echoing as they awaited their scheduled departures, while officials in crisp uniforms directed the flow of traffic.
At the plaza's center, dominating the skyline, stood the Aethelgard Arch. It was a colossal ring of polished obsidian and gleaming, mana-infused silver, at least fifty meters in height. Its surface was a dizzying, seamless tapestry of interwoven runes and geometric magic circles that pulsed with a soft blue light. This was the kingdom's gateway to distant lands—a marvel of magic craft. It operated on a principle I found both clever and inefficient: it formed a stable, instantaneous link with another Arch at a registered destination, but only once the receiving mages accepted the connection and synchronized their own mana matrix.
Upon our arrival, a contingent of port mages in formal blue and silver robes hurried to greet the royal procession. Master Corrin dismounted his horse, his stern presence alone commanding silence from the onlookers. He spoke briefly with the head mage—a man whose weary eyes and faint tremor betrayed the immense concentration required to manage such a powerful artifact. After a curt nod from Corrin, the head mage relayed the order.
A dozen mages took their positions around the Aethelgard Arch. They raised their hands in unison, mana circles appearing on their palms as they signaled the Arch. The runes on the obsidian ring flared to life, the ambient hum rising to a powerful thrum. The empty space within the circle began to shimmer, then swirl like a liquid mirror, coalescing into a mesmerizing vortex of silver and blue light that distorted the air around it. With our escort of twenty knights—ten in front, ten behind—and Corrin leading the way, our carriage rolled forward into the glowing portal.
The transition was instantaneous—jarring and brutal on the senses. One moment, we were bathed in the familiar, golden warmth of sunlight in the capital. The next, we were plunged into its complete opposite. A piercingly cold air flooded the carriage, carrying the sharp, clean scent of ancient pines and deep frost. Outside the windows, the sky was a canvas of heavy, bruised-grey clouds. A thin, pristine layer of fresh snow blanketed the ground, muffling the sound of our horses' hooves and swallowing the light. It was a world drained of warmth and color.
The shift was so abrupt that it stole the breath from my sisters. It was Riva, however, who surprisingly turned to me, a bright, almost feverish smile on her face—an expression so alien on her usually timid features that it put me on edge. This was a new variable. The quiet, reclusive Riva was a known quantity, easily dismissed. This cheerful, knowledgeable version was unpredictable. A potential asset—or a new kind of annoyance? I would have to observe.
"What's mak—?"
I didn't even finish the question before the words spilled out of her, a dam of silence breaking. "Finally! I know you've been curious about the big magic gate, right? Right?"
Runo, sitting beside me, slapped a hand over her face with a dramatic groan. "Nad, you just had to ask."
I watched, fascinated, as the quiet, reclusive Riva transformed. It was as if leaving the capital had unlocked a part of her I never knew existed.
"The Aethelgard Arch is a marvel of magic craft!" she began, her eyes sparkling. "It's built with ancient spells for stability, thousands of focusing runes, and a core magic circle that handles the spatial displacement. The mages don't create the portal; they just guide and power the Arch that does the work. Even commoners can use them, but they have to gather for a scheduled destination and pay a fee—just like a ferry. There are two kinds: local, for travel within the kingdom to any city with its own Arch, and international, for travel outside Viradom—though that requires a lot more power and diplomatic clearance."
She finished her lecture with a proud little puff of her chest. "Isn't that impressive?"
My face, however, had unknowingly settled into a look of profound unimpressiveness. Impressive? I thought. These humans require a massive, costly material structure just to tear a hole in space? I could manifest a stable portal in thin air in my former life. This is merely clever construction, not true mastery of spatial magic. But of course, that was not something I could say to her.
I forced my expression to shift into one of feigned awe. "Oh, I am impressed. What they did is very impressive."
"I know, right?" she replied, beaming.
As if on cue, the carriage stopped. A new set of mages, these ones clad in thick, wolf-fur-lined robes over their uniforms, came to offer their greetings. Everyone here, from the guards to the officials, wore heavy attire designed to suppress the intense, bone-deep cold of the North. The chill was beginning to seep past my fine clothes and into my bones now. Winter in the palace was cold, but my maids and Aunt Belmira always ensured my chambers were warmed with heat-emitting runes. This was a far more aggressive cold—an active presence that sought to leech the life from you. My small body began to shiver involuntarily.
My mother noticed, her warm gaze softening with concern. "Nadiel, why don't you try circulating your mana? It will warm you from the inside."
The statement, though kind, struck me with the force of a physical blow. I, the former peak of all magical knowledge, being reminded of the most obvious application of mana control. How much lower could my situation get?
Theria, naturally, had to make things worse, her voice laced with venomous satisfaction. "Wow. The so-called genius is being told how to get rid of the cold."
I gave her a single, indifferent look, willing myself not to react—a silent dismissal that I knew infuriated her more than any retort.
"Stop it, you two," our mother interrupted, her voice gentle but edged with steel. "I know you don't get along, but please, both of you need to be careful with how you behave in the Serathin hold."
Theria looked away with a dismissive, "Whatever."
The queen sighed, the sound heavy with a familiar weariness. "Riva, why don't you tell Nadiel a few things about the Serathins?"
Theria and Runo looked at their mother in unison. "Moooom?" they groaned, but the queen simply kept a straight, smiling face.
Riva, however, looked delighted at the opportunity; she was sparked back to life. "House Serathin is one of the five highest-ranked noble families in Viradom!"
She began while I wondered—this sudden, uncharacteristic chattiness was perplexing. What is it about the palace that made her feel different?
"They reign over the frost-bound North. They are known for their unbreakable warriors and ironclad loyalty towards the royals."
Runo quickly grunted, "Yeah, right. People only say that because the first Serathin was the first king's best friend and sworn brother!"
Riva only paused a moment after the grunt, shooting her a disapproving glance before continuing. "House Serathin stands as the bulwark of Viradom's northern frontier. It has two famed physical features they are known for: gleaming silver hair like Mom and us, and also—more importantly—MANA SIGHT. Not like yours, though; theirs are eyes of vivid azure."
"Most true-born Serathins inherit one or both of our signatures: silver hair that shimmers like moonlit ice, and MANA SIGHT that manifests as vivid, azure-blue eyes. The MANA SIGHT gives them an enormous boost in their already impressive magical talents," my mother added softly, tucking a strand of her own gleaming silver hair behind her ear.
"They're also masters of frost magic," Theria chimed in, unable to resist speaking on a topic of martial prowess. "Their mages use Frost Art to weave blizzards. Their swordsmen use the Hailbrand sword art, and their combatants specialize in Permafrost combat art—a brutal grappling style. They are the kingdom's unchallenged masters of cold and strategy." She said it with a grudging respect, the combatant in her unable to deny their skill.
"That's why they're so strict about marriage," Riva continued, her voice dropping slightly. "To preserve the traits, any heir who displays them—especially the eyes—must wed within the extended family circle. For one and only purpose: keeping the MANA SIGHT concentrated in their bloodline."
The carriage stopped, its door aligning perfectly with a long red carpet. On either side, two lines of knights in polished silver and blue armor stood at attention. As we disembarked one by one, they raised their swords in a silent, formal salute. At the end of the carpet, three figures stood waiting. All three possessed the piercing azure eyes of House Serathin that Riva spoke of, but only two had the silver hair—the woman on his right had black hair.
The man in the center was tall and powerfully built, with the same shimmering silver hair as my mother, cut short and swept back from his high forehead. His eyes were a piercing azure blue, sharp and intelligent. The woman on his left had an aristocratic severity, her silver hair coiled in an intricate, icy braid, her gaze as sharp and cold as the icicles clinging to the eaves. The woman on his right was different—quieter, her beauty more subdued, substituting the missing silver hair with black. Her azure gaze was more measured as she took everything in with an unnerving stillness.
As we stopped before them, the three figures bowed their heads.
"We welcome you to the Serathin hold, Your Royal Highnesses," the man said, his voice a warm, deep baritone.
My mother, who was closest to him, stepped forward and gently took his arms to raise him up. "Come on, Boo. This is hardly a public setting," she chided playfully.
He straightened, a teasing glint in his azure eyes. "Well, I can't help it when you look so majestically stunning." They shared a warm, familiar hug. After releasing her, my mother moved to greet the two women.
"Relina. Elara," my mother said with a nod. "It is good to see you both well."
"Ardelyn," Relina—the one with silver hair—replied stiffly. "You look... healthy."
Elara simply offered a cool, polite smile and a slight inclination of her head.
While that stilted exchange occurred, Runo dashed past them and launched herself into a surprise hug from behind the man. "Uncle Boo!"
He turned, catching her with a laugh. "Hey, Runo! Is it just me, or have you grown taller?" he asked, ruffling her hair.
"What can I say, Uncle Boo? Aunt Bel makes sure I eat all my food," she chirped.
"Yeah, I can see that," he said, smiling. He then looked to his left, where Theria stood awkwardly. "Hello, Theria."
"Hi, Uncle Boo," she mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. He then turned to his right as Riva approached and gave him a gentle hug. "Uncle Boo."
"For goodness' sake, what is Belmira feeding you all?" he joked. "Riva, you're just as tall as Runo now!" Riva let out a rare, genuine laugh.
Suddenly, the playful atmosphere vanished. Boorogle, Relina, and Elara all looked past the twins, their gazes locking onto me. In unison, their azure eyes began to glow, their MANA SIGHT activating as they scrutinized me without a shred of subtlety.
Boorogle then walked past Runo and came to a stop directly in front of me. The air grew still. He knelt, bringing his face level with mine, his powerful frame eclipsing the grey sky. A heavy hand settled on my left shoulder.
"Hello, you must be Nadiel. I'm Boorogle, but you can call me Uncle Boo. I'm the current patriarch of the Serathin family, and I would like to welcome you to the Serathin hold."
His voice was a warm baritone, but his glowing eyes were a cold, analytical fire, dissecting me layer by layer. The pressure of his MANA SIGHT felt like a physical weight—an intrusion I had not felt since my weakest days as a whelpling. My ancient pride, dormant and simmering, began to boil.
My face remained impassive, showing indifference to his welcome. Then I spoke.
"I have heard a lot about the Serathins," my voice dangerously calm, cutting through the frosty air, "but to think this is how they welcome a guest—especially one who is royalty." I let my gaze sweep over the three of them, a silent indictment. "The Serathins' bravery is quite laudable."
The tension snapped taut. Theria gasped softly. Runo's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock. Behind me, I felt Corrin's and Veronica's posture stiffen.
"Nadiel!!!" my mother's voice cracked through the silence. She was still near the patriarch's wives at the end of the carpet, trying to halt the confrontation, but Boorogle raised his left hand slightly—a gesture of absolute command that silenced her without a word.
His smile remained, but it no longer reached his eyes.
"Is there something we did wrong to warrant this absurd claim of yours, Nadiel?"
"Since coming through that gate," I began, my voice level and devoid of emotion, "I have been the target of invasive gazes from your people. It is annoying. It is insulting. And now, you and those two women do the same—right in front of me." I met his glowing azure eyes with my own. "Tell me, Uncle Boo. Does possessing MANA SIGHT give you the right to probe whomever you wish? Especially someone like me—a…"
My anger nearly made my tongue slip, a flash of ultimate fury threatening to reveal everything.
Too close.
"…a guest in your home?" I finished smoothly.
Boorogle's smile finally tightened. "Nadiel, you're right. What we did in front of you was definitely something we shouldn't have done, and for that, I apologize." He stood, put a small space between us, and gave a shallow, formal bow.
Relina bristled with indignation. "My lord, you don't have to apologize for some silly claim by a child!"
"No, Relina. I believe he's right. We are in the wrong," Boorogle said firmly. He straightened and stepped closer, looking down at me, the playful mask gone, replaced by the cold authority of a Northern lord. "But about the gazes you've been receiving—I believe that must have been due to some motion sickness, either from the carriage or the portal. So keep your absurd thoughts to yourself, if you don't mind, Your Royal Highness."
The sheer audacity of the dismissal was breathtaking. He acknowledged his transgression only to belittle my perception of a dozen others.
A small, cold smile touched my lips. I held his gaze without flinching.
What a gutsy human.
Then, I let my own power answer him. I activated my MANA SIGHT, and my white-blue eyes flared into a glowing luminescence that was starkly different from their azure. The air between us crackled as our senses clashed—I felt his surprise.
"Since you're strong enough," I said softly, "I know you can feel them, can't you? The hidden watchers. About twelve, to be exact."
His face broke. The confident smirk, the lordly authority—gone. Replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated shock. He stared at me, utterly speechless, the numbers hanging in the air like frozen motes of dust. Then, just as quickly, he mastered himself. The shock vanished, replaced by a wide, unnerving smile. He broke our stare and glanced at Corrin—a silent acknowledgment passed between the two men.
He then turned toward the building, the atmosphere shifting as he clapped his hands together.
"Come!" he called out, his voice once again cheerful. "Allow me and my wives to personally show you your rooms."
BOOROGLE'S POINT OF VIEW
Later, I stood on the balcony overlooking the endless, snow-dusted expanse of my domain. The steaming glass of tea in my hands did little to warm the familiar chill that had settled deep in my bones—a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. Ardelyn stood beside me, a silhouette of impossible grace against the grey sky.
"I'm so sorry about the way Nadiel acted this afternoon, Boo," she said, her voice a soft melody laced with apology.
I managed a faint smile, my eyes fixed on the horizon. "There is nothing to be sorry about, Ardey. He was right—in every way that matters."
She sighed, a small, perfect cloud of mist in the frigid air. "Nadiel is… difficult," she confessed, her voice thick with a mother's exhaustion. "One moment, I feel he is more mature than any of us, and the next, he's pulling some ridiculous, childish prank with Runo. And Theria… that girl hates me, for reasons I'll never understand. And as for Runo, I don't even want to know what goes on in that one's head. Poor Riva is so often lost in her own worries… it's all starting to stress me out."
Each word was a small, sharp pang in my chest. To see her burdened—to hear the strain in her voice—was a pain I had carried for years. I wanted nothing more than to sweep it all away, to stand between her and the world, but that was a privilege I had forfeited long ago.
After a moment of silence, I asked the only question I could.
"How is Auren dealing with their troubles?"
She turned to look at me, and her expression—a mixture of exasperation, deep-seated pity, and a sliver of dark humor—said everything. It was the look of a woman bound by duty to a man who would never truly understand her.
"Trust me," she said dryly, "he has his hands so filled with Naddy that he's literally spilling."
I had to look away, down into the swirling tea in my cup.
Yeah, no doubt, I thought. That kid is a monster. The word was inadequate, but it was the only one that came to mind.
My brain, a moment too late, replayed the thought. I glanced at her—and, as I feared, her brow was furrowed in confusion.
"Hey, wait, not in the way that you think," I said quickly.
"Then in what way?"
I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the effortless way her presence could unravel my composure.
"Nadiel has two mana senses open."
Her eyes widened in genuine shock. "What! I mean, I'm aware of the MANA SIGHT—even though the eyes are a bit different from yours..."
"Yes, his sight is a different variation," I confirmed, my voice a cold, analytical whisper to mask the turmoil within. "But I believe he also possesses MANA REACH."
"What? But that doesn't make any sense," she said, her voice dazed with disbelief. "I'm aware of how even the children here struggle to master the sight sense through pain—all because of the information overload. But you're telling me Naddy has two of those senses and never went through that?"
Interesting, my mind noted—the strategist in me taking over.
I replied, "So he didn't have to go through the process of shutting his eyes to master them. And he wasn't just using the sight but also the reach this afternoon—and with that sort of precision. He's more of a monster than I thought. And mixed with that calm, mature, and direct personality, I see why Auren is struggling."
When I snapped out of the thought I was spilling, I was getting a confused look from Ardelyn.
"I know Nadiel is difficult," she said softly. "But he's also simple. He returns the respect and kindness given to him—no matter how small—which is something Auren can't easily give, thinking he needs to toughen the kid up."
"Kindness, huh?" I murmured, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
She walked two steps past me to the edge of the balcony, closer to the view, closer to the wind. I watched her silver hair dance, each strand a shimmering thread of what could have been.
The familiar ache settled deep in my chest, a constant companion.
To think, I thought, a silent, hopeless confession to the uncaring sky, that you are forever out of my reach… it still puts a strain on my heart.