The night slipped away like a wisp of smoke, leaving only a faint taste of dreams behind.
Morgan woke before the bells rang, the soft chime echoing in his mind as he pushed away the remnants of sleep. He moved through his morning routine with practiced ease: making his bed with crisp corners, the fabric smooth beneath his fingers; lacing his boots tight, the leather familiar and reassuring. Outside, he pounded the pavement, the rhythmic thud of his feet matching the quickening beat of his heart. Back in the gym, the treadmill hummed beneath him, the digital display counting off kilometers as he pushed through sweat and effort. A cold bath jolted him awake, the sharp chill invigorating his senses as he dressed in his fatigues and combat boots, the fabric cool against his skin. Breakfast awaited him, a plate of food steaming amid the low hum of soldiers sharing stories and laughter, the scent of eggs and bacon mingling in the air.
But now, he stood outside the king's office, a mixture of excitement and anxiety swirling in his gut.
8:58 A.M.
It didn't feel real. The summons, the promise of opportunity—like a fruit too ripe, sweet yet suspicious. Doubts crept into his mind like shadowy tendrils. Had he imagined it all? Was this just a fleeting fantasy that would evaporate with the morning light?
The measured click of heels abruptly interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Queen Yelena approached, her presence commanding yet graceful, draped in flowing silk that shimmered with each step. When her gaze met his, a spark ignited in her eyes—this was no dream; the reality of the moment was undeniable."Your Highness," he bowed, the words slipping out with a mix of reverence and determination.
"Good morning, Mr. Nyxarios," she replied, her voice calm and inviting, a gentle breeze that cut through his anxious thoughts.
As she glided past him, he fell into step behind her, acutely aware of the aura she carried.
"Today," she said, her tone light yet edged with gravity, "I will show you the way to the royal library. Just remember—" a hint of amusement danced on her lips, "—Alex holds it very dear. Almost as much as he enjoys pestering you."
So she knew about the prince's antics. A flicker of interest ignited within him, but he grounded himself, focusing on her directions: first right after the king's office, up the grand staircase, straight ahead to the double doors adorned with carved griffons, their fierce expressions seemingly alive.
At the entrance, she paused, glancing back at him. "Your wrist, Mr. Nyxarios."
He lifted his right hand, and her cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. As she murmured an incantation, light flared between them—a spell circle of intricate patterns glowing above his skin, warm and vibrant. His aether signature coiled upward, a green-gold thread drifting into the tablet mounted on the wall. The runes dissolved into the glass like ink in water, swirling and shifting as if alive.
Once the screen confirmed the scan, the queen stepped aside, gesturing for him to try it.
With determination, Morgan approached the small scanner, wrist raised. A blue flash pulsed beneath his skin, and the screen chimed, recognition sparking in the air. With a soft click, the heavy double doors swung open, revealing a world of knowledge beyond.
"Now," Queen Yelena said, her expression shifting to one of serious expectation, "you'll be expected to show me what you've learned in a month's time. I expect big changes from you, Morgan." Her voice was firm, the weight of her words pressing against him. With a gentle sweep of her robes, she turned, her footsteps echoing in the corridor. "I must return to my duties. Enjoy your time learning."
He stood there for a moment longer, disbelief wrapping around him like a cloak. Regardless of the reality, he would seize this chance with both hands.
The grand library unfolded before him, a breathtaking expanse of towering shelves reaching toward a vaulted ceiling. The spines gleamed with age and knowledge, each one a gateway to another world. Tinted windows cast colorful light across the marble floors, shifting hues as clouds drifted by outside. A spiral staircase coiled upward, its railing adorned with intricate designs that seemed to pulse with energy, inviting him to explore further. The very stones felt alive, shimmering faintly as if remembering the magic woven into their creation.
The air was rich with the scent of parchment and polished wood, the silence thick with potential. It buzzed with the soft rustle of the wind and the ticking of a grand clock somewhere above. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams of morning light, dancing like tiny spirits celebrating the start of a new day.
He wandered between the towering shelves, fingers brushing over gilded titles in languages he barely recognized—combat theory, arcane history, aether cultivation. Each title seemed to whisper secrets, beckoning him closer. He paused, uncertainty gnawing at him like a persistent itch.
Where in the Void do I even start?
A warmth filled the air—subtle but unmistakable. A familiar scent wafted close, bright with a hint of spice, drawing him back to the present. He exhaled slowly, reminding himself he'd made up his mind to become stronger. Still, the weight of the task ahead pressed heavily on his shoulders, a reminder of the journey he was about to undertake.
"Well," a voice cut through the silence, smooth and low, "looks like my parents have decided to grant you… certain opportunities."
Morgan turned to find Alex standing there, that infuriating smile lighting up his face. He leaned casually against the shelf, one hand resting on the bookshelf next to him, the other toying with a thin ring on his finger, as if he had all the time in the world.
"Guess being at the center of my mischief isn't so bad after all, hmm?" Alex tilted his head, feigning innocence, and Morgan couldn't help but feel the corners of his mouth twitching in frustration.
"You're blocking the aisle," Morgan replied flatly. Alex leaned in a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Am I?"
The closeness sent a thrill through Morgan's chest—irritation mixed with something else he couldn't quite place. He forced his voice steady. "Is there something you need, Your Highness?"
"I was going to direct you," Alex said, leaning in just enough to keep Morgan off balance, his gaze locked onto Morgan's with an intensity that made his heart race. "If you're serious about getting stronger, start with the aether cleansing techniques on the top floors. The old masters kept the best material there."
"And you're not going to show me yourself?" Morgan blurted out, surprised by his own boldness.
"Aww, you miss me that much?" Alex's grin widened.
Morgan inhaled sharply. But as Alex pulled away, the moment lingered in the air, charged with unspoken words.
"I would love to," Alex murmured, his voice teasing, "but I have tutoring. Only a few more years before I'm crowned, after all."
Morgan's head snapped up. "What?"
"Oh—" Alex's smile shifted, almost predatory. "You're the first to know. My father will step down when I turn one hundred twenty-one. Time to stop playing prince and start playing king."
"That's… soon," Morgan replied, trying to process the news.
"Mhm." His gaze swept over Morgan, sharp and assessing. "Which is why I hope you'll have reached your full potential by then."
Morgan frowned. "Why?"
Alex let the pause stretch, his eyes locked on Morgan's, the air thickening with tension. "Because I intend to have you—" his lips quirked upward in a teasing smile, "—as my personal guard, of course."
Finally, Alex stepped past.
"Top floor, third aisle from the west balcony," he called over his shoulder, his voice casual yet full of promise. "Don't keep me waiting too long."
Morgan watched him go, the ghost of Alex's words lingering like an ember, surprisingly igniting a spark of determination within him.
It was going to be a long day.