The morning sun filtered through the dense canopy above the courtyard, casting dappled shadows over the stone tiles where my father and I trained. His long black hair was tied back, swaying slightly with each movement, and the dragon scales along the sides of his eyes caught the light like molten emeralds. His stance was precise, unshaken, even as sweat glistened on his brow.
"Again," he commanded softly, stepping back as I lunged forward with a burst of energy, my palm glowing faintly. I missed, again.
I stumbled, huffing out frustration. "Why does it keep slipping away from me?"
"You're trying to control it with force," he said, kneeling beside me. "Magic isn't just about power, Noah. It's about intent, about clarity."
I nodded, wiping my forehead, but my thoughts were far from the lesson.
There'd been a name.
Lucy.
I didn't know why it had stuck with me for so long. A passing whisper, nothing more. I was barely a toddler when I first heard it, half-asleep, standing in a hallway beyond the study doors where my parents spoke softly into the night. I hadn't even understood what it meant back then. But as I grew, the name lingered, quietly echoing at the edges of my memory.
Today, I couldn't hold it back any longer.
"Father," I asked, dusting off my knees, "who is Lucy?"
His hands froze mid-motion. For a moment, he didn't look at me. Just stared down at the training floor like it held something sacred or terrible.
Then, slowly, he turned. "Where did you hear that name?"
"I overheard you and Mother a few years ago," I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady. "You said her name like... like you missed her."
He stood, brushing off his robes. His expression was unreadable. "Come," he said. "Walk with me."
We moved through the side garden, the path winding between cherry blossoms and rune-etched stones. My heart beat faster with every step. He wasn't angry, that much I could tell. But something in the air had shifted. Heavy. Nostalgic.
"You've grown faster than I imagined," Father said finally, his voice quieter now. "And your ears are sharper than I gave you credit for." He said with a slight chuckle.
I gave a small, shrug.
He continued, "Lucy is your sister. And Jeremiah... he is your older brother."
The world seemed to slow around me.
I blinked up at him, trying to match any trace of them in our home. But there was nothing. "I have siblings?"
"Yes, you," he said gently with a pause. "You do. But they haven't been home in many years."
We stopped near the koi pond, where silver and orange fish drifted through crystalline water. My father knelt beside the edge, his eyes distant.
"Lucy was always... spirited," he said with a faint smile. "Sharp-tongued, bold. She challenged me every day, especially with her training. But she had a kind heart. And Jeremiah... he was quieter, more reserved. A protector through and through. He looked after Lucy like a guardian wolf."
I said nothing. I didn't trust my voice. My chest felt tight, like a string pulled taut inside me.
"They both turned twelve," he said, "and we sent them to Thyridya. My homeland."
That name. Thyridya. It rolled through my mind like distant thunder.
"For training?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes."
"Will I... go there too?"
He looked at me then, and I realized I hadn't hidden the tremor in my voice as well as I thought.
Father placed a hand on my shoulder. "You might. If that's the path you choose."
There it was again: choice. A gift, a burden.
But I didn't want to leave. Not now. Not when I was only just beginning to find my place here. The idea of siblings I had never known, training in a distant land where magic likely flowed like breath, it sparked a flicker of envy deep inside me. They had gone. They had been chosen. And I was still here, struggling to shape raw energy into something more than sparks.
Were they stronger than me? Braver? More worthy?
I pushed the thoughts down. Hard. I was scared.
Father's gaze was steady, like he could read every word I wasn't saying. "You don't need to compare yourself to them, Noah. Your path will look different. It's meant to."
"But they left," I whispered, the words escaping before I could stop them.
"Yes," he said. "Not because we loved them more, or because they were better. But because their journey led them there. Yours hasn't yet."
I nodded, but the pit in my stomach remained.
"Your mother and I didn't tell you about them before," he said gently, "because we wanted you to grow without that pressure. Without the weight of who came before you."
I understood. I really did.
But still.
There was a sadness now, in knowing I wasn't the first child to bear the Reizei name. That I wasn't alone in that legacy. I had siblings, real ones, who had already stepped into the roles I still struggled to understand. What had they thought when they left? Had they wanted to go? Had they looked back?
"They'll return," Father said, as if hearing my thoughts. "One day. And when they do, I hope you'll be ready to meet them. Not as a boy chasing their shadows, but as your own light Noah."
I swallowed hard. "Do you think they'll like me?"
Father smiled, pulling me into a sudden hug. "They'll love you."
I didn't say anything more after that. We stood by the pond until the sun began to lower, painting the sky in soft golds and purples. The training session was forgotten.
In my heart, something had shifted. Not broken. Just… stretched i suppose. I wasn't alone in this family, not really. And though jealousy had crept in, I understood now what I had to do.
I would become strong. Not for comparison. Not for legacy.
But for myself.
So that one day, when I met Lucy and Jeremiah, I could stand beside them, not behind.
As their brother.
As Noah Reizei.
End of Chapter.