Elias's words sliced through the warm air of the room, and the fragile peace of my return shattered like glass. My mother's hand tightened on my arm, a silent plea for calm. Seraphina, who had been bustling with plans for a restorative meal, froze in place, her expression of happy relief curdling into one of pure anxiety.
"Well, well," my brother repeated, sauntering into the room with the easy arrogance of a man who had never known true failure. "Look what the dungeon spat back out. I heard you found some power. Don't tell me you actually learned how to use it."
I felt a ghost of the old Lancelot rise up within me—a cold, familiar knot of fear and shame in the pit of my stomach. This was the dynamic I'd read about, the one the original boy had lived his entire life. Elias, the competent if unremarkable Artisan, lording his Tier 3 status over his useless Tier 1 brother. It was a well-worn pattern of casual cruelty.
But the ghost was just an echo. I was not that boy. The Two-Heart Cadence in my chest was a steady, calming rhythm, and my mind was my own. I looked at my brother—at his perfectly tailored clothes, his smug expression, the faint, almost sour aura of his power—and I didn't see a fearsome older sibling. I saw an insecure man terrified that his family's designated failure might have finally stopped playing his part.
A slow smile spread across my face. It felt natural. Easy.
"It's a process," I said, my voice calm and laced with an amusement that clearly wasn't what he expected. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, brother? Still working on breaking through to Expert, I hear. The capital must be so demanding."
The sneer on Elias's face faltered, replaced by a flash of genuine anger. His own progress had stalled for the better part of a year, a sore point for a man desperately trying to escape the shadow of our prodigious older brother. I had taken his casual jab and returned it with a surgeon's precision.
"You dare—" he started, his voice rising.
"Elias," our mother cut in, her tone sharp with a warning. "Your brother has just returned. This is hardly the time."
"It is precisely the time," Elias shot back, his full attention now on me. He took a step forward, the Aether around him flaring with a messy, emotional energy. "He vanishes for weeks, brings shame on the house, and comes back with this… arrogant act. Whatever fluke of power you stumbled upon in that hole, Lancelot, it doesn't change what you are. You're a liability."
"Then let's find out," I said, my smile not wavering. This was the moment. I could see the path forward, the one the old Lancelot would have been too afraid to walk.
Elias's eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"
"Let's find out if I'm a liability," I repeated, my tone reasonable, conversational. "Morning drills. In the main training yard. You and me. A friendly spar to welcome me home."
The room fell silent. Even my mother was too shocked to speak. In seventeen years, Lancelot had never once willingly challenged Elias to anything. He had hidden, fled, and endured. He had never, ever fought back.
Elias stared at me, searching for the trick, the angle. Finding none, his arrogance swelled to fill the vacuum left by his surprise. A cruel, confident smirk returned to his face. "A spar? You want me to spar with you? You just reached Adept, didn't you? I'm an Artisan. It wouldn't be a spar, little brother. It would be a lesson."
"Good," I said, giving him a cheerful nod. "I could use one. It's been a while since I had a proper... well, any kind of lesson, really."
The self-deprecating humor seemed to infuriate him more than any insult could have. It was as if I was treating his superior power not as a threat, but as a mild inconvenience. He was a mountain, and I was acting like he was a pebble in my shoe.
"Dawn," he snarled. "Don't be late. I'd hate for you to add cowardice to your list of failures." He shot one last, venomous glare at me before turning on his heel and storming out of the room, leaving a trail of simmering fury in his wake.
My mother turned to me, her face pale. "Lancelot, what have you done? He'll hurt you."
"He'll try," I said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. "But I'm not as fragile as I used to be, Mother. I promise."
She didn't look convinced, but after another moment of worried pleading, she too departed, leaving me alone with a deeply anxious Seraphina.
The moment the door closed, she was on me, her voice a frantic whisper. "My lord, you cannot be serious! He is a Tier 3! His control over his aura is—"
"Shaky when he's angry?" I finished for her, a genuine grin on my face.
She stopped, blinking. "Well… yes, but he is still far stronger than you! You've only just stabilized your power!"
"Sera," I said, turning to face her fully. I softened my voice, my smile becoming something warmer. "What's the worst that can happen? He roughs me up a bit? I've had worse from a cave wall, believe me. But if I don't do this, if I let him walk all over me like he always has, then nothing has changed. Sometimes you have to show the wolf pack you've grown teeth, even if they're still coming in."
Seraphina stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. I could see the gears turning in her head, the surprise warring with her ingrained worry. This wasn't the moody, withdrawn boy she had served for years. This Lancelot was calm, strategic, and… confident. He was treating a confrontation with his powerful brother like a game of chess.
"You've… changed, my lord," she said, her voice full of a quiet awe.
"I nearly died," I said simply. "It tends to offer a new perspective." I decided to push the change, to show her that my world no longer revolved solely around my own problems. "Speaking of new perspectives, how is our little gardening project? Any unusual properties to report?"
The sudden shift in topic caught her completely off guard. "The… the Silverwood Sapling?" she stammered, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "It… it seems to like the evening light. And it feels… warm, sometimes. When I touch it."
"Good," I said, giving her a knowing look. "Keep an eye on it. I have a feeling it's more special than anyone realizes. Just like its caretaker."
The blush on her cheeks deepened. She looked down, a small, shy smile playing on her lips. It was, I thought, the first time she had looked at me not with pity or duty, but with something akin to admiration.
That night, as I lay in a real bed for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I didn't feel the fear that should have come before a hopeless fight. I felt a calm, focused clarity. I would likely lose the spar tomorrow. Elias was, after all, a full tier above me. But I wasn't fighting to win the duel.
I was fighting to win my place. And that was a battle I had no intention of losing.