In a dark, silent dungeon, the air hung heavy with dampness and age. Cracked stone walls loomed high around Travis, their surfaces slick with moss and marked by time. Embedded in the cold stone were glowing green crystals, pulsating softly like a heartbeat—casting eerie reflections that danced across the floor in ripples of emerald light.
Travis stood alone at the center of the chamber, barefoot and dressed in simple sleepclothes, his breath visible in the chill. He slowly turned, eyes scanning the too-familiar surroundings. He let out a long sigh, his shoulders sagging.
It was the same dream—the same dream he'd had for as long as he could remember. Since the moment he learned to speak, this dungeon had haunted his sleep. No matter how many years passed, nothing ever changed.
Just ahead, a few meters away, the dungeon widened into a circular sanctum. There, bathed in a shaft of pale light from an unseen source, stood a sword—magnificent, ancient, and unreal. Its blade shimmered in an ethereal, rainbow-colored aura, the colors shifting slowly as if breathing. The hilt was wrapped in deep silver and runes glowed along its crossguard, unreadable but beautiful. It was embedded deep into a black stone pedestal, like a relic waiting for its master.
" This dream again" He muttered, frustration etched in his voice.
Understandly so since it didn't mean anything. It was just teasing him,showing him something he could touch but not have.
Which reminded him of how his older brother would always make him hold his Arcana Mark back when he was young as a reminder of what he could never have.
He walked towards the sword. It was a beautiful sword, shaped in an odd way but was still a work of art.
As a child he told his mother his dreams, who spent a lot time looking for an explanation but it came out dull. His siblings laughed at him. Saying he was making it up so he could seem special. Like that they got another way to ridicule him.
Travis cried day and night after that, his mother always there to cheer him up. None of them believed him. Even worse the dream began to appear to him almost everyday. Haunting him like a nightmare.
He stood in front of the sword, its hilt seemingly calling out to him—silent, yet irresistible. A soft hum vibrated in the air, so faint it could've been imagined. Travis exhaled slowly, resigned. He couldn't wake up unless he touched the sword. That's how it always worked.
With a quiet sigh, he reached forward, his fingers brushing the cool metal. The hilt was cold, smooth, and oddly comforting beneath his palm. He grasped it, already bracing for the familiar jolt—then the fade to black.
But nothing happened.
Seconds ticked by. He blinked.
"…Hmm? This has never happened," he muttered under his breath, glancing around in confusion.
The silence pressed in, but the dream held. Heart pounding, Travis tightened his grip and pulled.
The sword slid free from the pedestal without resistance, like it had been waiting for him all along. A low, melodic chime rang out through the chamber as the blade rose, glowing brighter with each inch revealed. He stared at it, bathed in shifting hues of rainbow light that danced across his face.
"…Wow," was all he could say, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide in awe.
That very moment, the sword vanished—its form collapsing into light and reshaping into a glowing rainbow gem.
'What's this?' he thought, eyes widening.
Before he could react, the gem shot toward his chest, then veered into his palm, sinking into his skin with a searing burn. He winced sharply, clutching his hand as pain flared through him. When he opened his palm, a strange mark shimmered faintly where the gem had vanished.
"Huh—?"
Travis jolted awake, lying flat on the grassy hill. He blinked up at the dark sky, his heart racing.
"It's night… How long was I asleep?" he asked aloud, sitting up in confusion.
He stood and instinctively raised his right hand—and just like in the dream, the mark was still there. Faint but visible. It pulsed softly under the moonlight.
"Is this… an Arcana Mark?" he whispered, awe creeping into his voice.
A rush of emotion surged within him. His eyes lit up, and a grin spread across his face. Without a second thought, he turned and sprinted down the hill racing back toward the manor, heart pounding with excitement.
...
In the manor, all of Travis's family members were gathered in the dining hall. At the head of the long table sat the Baron of Norcrest—Roderic Duskwarden. A broad-shouldered man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard, his muscular frame gave off the quiet strength of a seasoned warrior. He ate in silence, the soft clatter of utensils and quiet conversation filling the space around him.
Seated before him were his two wives. Jolene Duskwarden, mother of four of his children, carried herself with an air of confidence. She had fair skin, flowing blonde hair, and sharp green eyes that gleamed with pride as she took small, graceful bites of her meal.
Across from her sat a woman of darker complexion, her long black hair cascading down her back. Her striking purple eyes were filled with worry as she stared at her untouched plate. This was Elyzhaeth—Travis's mother.
"Have any of you seen Travis?" Elyzhaeth asked the other children at the table, her voice tinged with concern.
Raikzen turned to her with an innocent smile. "Last I saw him, he was at the training grounds, Mother," he replied.
"Oh, thank you, Raikzen. I'll go look for him. Excuse me," she said, rising to her feet. Her chair screeched lightly across the marble floor as she stood.
But before she could leave, the doors burst open. Travis stormed in, slightly out of breath, pausing as he saw everyone gathered at the table—his mother still standing.
"Travis! Where have you been?" Elyzhaeth asked, quickly making her way toward him.
"I was on the hill behind the house. I dozed off. Sorry, Mom," he said with a sheepish smile.
"I was worried sick. Don't do that again, okay?" she said gently, her voice softening into a relieved smile. "Now come, sit and eat."
He nodded and moved to his seat while she returned to hers and resumed her meal.
Travis began eating, trying to calm the excitement bubbling in his chest. He could hardly wait to tell her what he had discovered.
"Raikzen, who will you pick as your tutor?" Jolene asked, turning to her son seated diagonally across from her.
"I haven't decided yet, Mother. But I might go with Mr. Hendrick," he answered casually, glancing at Travis—who froze mid-bite.
"Isn't Mr. Hendrick teaching Travis at the moment?" Elyzhaeth asked, her gaze drifting toward her son.
"Yes, he is. But he's eager to teach me," Raikzen replied with a harmless smile. "He told me he'll stop tutoring Travis and start teaching me next month."
Travis didn't miss the glint behind that smile. He knew better.
"Guess we'll need to hire someone else to teach Travis, right dear?" Elyzhaeth asked, glancing toward her husband, Roderic.
"No," Roderic said firmly. "Travis is twelve now. He'll have to start training on his own. What are your plans, Travis?" he asked, finally raising his eyes to meet his son's.
Travis froze under his father's piercing gaze, his shoulders tensing as he looked down at his plate, uncomfortable.
"I'm… not really sure, Father," he said quietly. "But I'd like to become an adventurer. Or maybe a knight."
Roderic gave a slow nod. "Then you'd better make a quick decision," he said, his tone curt. He reached for a napkin, wiped his mouth, and stood. "Excuse me. I need to finish up some work," he added before turning and walking away. His assistant, who had been waiting nearby, scrambled to follow him as they exited the dining hall.
Jolene rose shortly after, not bothering to excuse herself. She left with a sweep of her gown, her children trailing obediently behind her.
Soon, only Travis and his mother remained.
"Mom, I've got good news!" Travis said, eyes lighting up with excitement.
"What happened?" Elyzhaeth asked, curiosity rising in her voice.
He didn't speak. Instead, he slowly raised his hand, palm facing her.
Her eyes widened the moment she saw it.
TO BE CONTINUED