The morning sun had barely climbed above the walls of the Vaelith estate when Eryndor found himself walking through the family library. Shelves of leather-bound tomes stretched from floor to ceiling, the air thick with dust and ink.
He ran his fingers along the spines, feeling the weight of generations—strategies, histories, and secrets of a family that ruled through power and influence. Something about it felt… familiar, in a way. Not my history, but a place I could carve my own.
"Master Eryndor." The voice startled him. It was Rorik, the loyal bodyguard, stepping lightly between the shelves. "There's someone here to speak with you… someone from the family council."
Eryndor didn't flinch. "I expected it. Send them in."
The door opened, and a woman entered, her presence commanding. Her hair was silver at the temples, her eyes sharp as a hawk's. She was small, but every movement radiated authority.
"Eryndor Vaelith," she said, voice calm but firm. "I am Lady Seraphine, a member of the family council. We have… concerns about recent events surrounding the household."
Eryndor's expression remained neutral. "Concerns? About what exactly?"
She gave a small smile, though her eyes did not soften. "About the… changes in the family. The previous heir is gone. You have awakened in his place. Many… wonder if the Vaelith legacy can continue with someone new at the helm."
Eryndor's fingers tightened slightly, though no one would see. Legacy? Legacy is earned, not inherited. And I intend to earn mine.
"I see," he said calmly. "Then let me assure you… the Vaelith name will not falter. Not under me, and certainly not under anyone who doubts me."
Seraphine's eyes flicked, as if testing him. "Confidence is admirable… but strength is proven, not declared. The council has arranged a series of assessments—both martial and magical—to confirm your abilities. It begins soon."
Eryndor inclined his head slightly. "Very well. I will not disappoint."
As she left, Rorik stepped closer. "Master, the council… they can be ruthless. If they sense weakness…"
Eryndor cut him off with a faint smile. "Weakness is not an option. And if they try, they'll find I'm… different."
Rorik said nothing, but the faintest trace of relief passed over his face.
Later, Eryndor found himself in the estate gardens, practicing subtle breathing techniques while walking. Martial arts was one thing—he knew his body could react with precision and power—but magic? That was a new layer, one that required focus, control, and understanding the currents that ran through this world.
He extended a hand, feeling the faint hum of energy in the air. A small flicker of light danced across his fingertips, almost playful. So, it's there… the magic responds to me. I just need to learn how to bend it, not break it.
Footsteps approached. Eryndor glanced up to see Lyanna walking along the path, her expression calm but inquisitive.
"You're practicing," she said, stopping a few paces away. "I thought you might be tired after yesterday's… demonstration."
Eryndor shook his head. "Rest comes later. If I want to survive here, I need more than skill—I need control. Martial, magical… and strategic."
Lyanna's lips curved into a faint smile. "I can help, if you want. The Arvelis family has knowledge of the magical currents in this region. Some techniques aren't taught openly."
Eryndor regarded her for a moment. Trust was earned, not given—but there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn't like the others in this court of whispers. "Very well. Then teach me."
A breeze rustled the leaves around them, carrying a faint scent of blooming flowers. For a moment, the world felt still, the only sound the quiet hum of magic beneath their feet.
"Good," Lyanna said softly. "But remember… the world isn't just in the library or the gardens. There are those who watch, who scheme, who wait for a moment to strike. Never let your guard down."
Eryndor's smile was calm, almost faintly amused. "I don't intend to. The Vaelith name survives because the strong protect it—and I intend to be stronger than anyone expects."
And somewhere, in the shadows of the estate, eyes watched him silently. Observing. Calculating. Waiting.
For the first time, Eryndor realized that this world wasn't just about power. It was about knowing who to trust, who to fight, and when to move.
And I'm ready for all of it.