The Mysticwood stretched before them like a living tapestry, trees towering higher than any building in Velmora, their canopies woven together so thickly that sunlight barely touched the mossy ground. The air was heavy with magic, faintly humming as though the forest itself were alive, aware of the intruding students. Dorian stepped forward carefully, boots crunching against the soft undergrowth, his mind cataloging everything—the patterns of growth, the way light filtered through the leaves, the subtle shimmer that hinted at latent energy in certain flowers.
The other students chattered nervously, some excited to see rare magical plants, others already arguing about the first assignments. Dorian noticed them all, every twitch of a hand or glance over the shoulder. He cataloged it like a scholar might record a complex experiment, noting rivalries, alliances, and the simmering resentment aimed in his direction. He did not speak unless necessary, letting observation serve as both shield and study.
Professor Kaelen moved with deliberate pace, occasionally bending to examine a plant or whispering instructions about sampling methods. He paused by a particularly strange vine that pulsed with a faint golden light. "Careful," he warned, "this one can react violently to sudden movements. Approach slowly, or it may strike." Most students hesitated, but Dorian merely leaned in, feeling the vibrations of the energy with a sensitivity no one else possessed. He made a note in his journal, careful to avoid touching it.
The class split into smaller groups, each assigned a different sector of the forest. Dorian walked alone, knowing that his pace and methods would frustrate the others. He preferred solitude anyway; it allowed him to think without interruption, to study not only the flora but the patterns of energy in the environment itself.
But even here, in this vast, wild place, envy followed him. A pair of students, siblings with elemental affinities in water and wind, whispered behind a cluster of ferns. "He'll finish before us, as usual," the girl muttered, her eyes narrowed. "We can't let him embarrass us."Both of them were from a Noble family of merchants that dealt in the trade of spices and like most other noble families they valued face and hence the two were always under constant pressure for letting Dorian best them.
Her brother scowled. "Do you think… what if we slow him down? Just a little?" Dorian's keen senses, honed by years of study and observation, caught the faintest shift in the air, the subtle hesitation in their energy patterns. He filed it away, silent, but not naive.
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Hours passed as Dorian methodically cataloged plant growth, energy fluctuations, and the minute behaviors of small magical creatures flitting among the underbrush. He had just begun taking detailed notes on a cluster of luminescent mushrooms when he heard a scream. Sharp, sudden, and terrified, it pierced the otherwise peaceful forest.
Dorian ran toward the sound, his mind calculating the safest route, anticipating obstacles, and already preparing a spell to defend anyone in danger. But when he arrived, the scene in front of him froze him in place.crimson fluid flowed on the ground painting the forest floor ,One of his classmates, a young man from the same year, lay sprawled on the forest floor, his body still, a dark, spreading stain across his tunic. The smell of burnt magical energy lingered in the air—a clear sign of foul play.
Around him, other students had gathered, their faces pale and terrified. "Who… who did this?" someone stammered. Dorian looked around, scanning the dense foliage, trying to catch a trace of energy, any signature that might indicate the culprit. He sensed nothing familiar—no elemental disturbance, no magical signature he could immediately identify. And yet, the murmurs began, a slow wave of suspicion building against him.
"He… I saw him," said one female student ,she had a look of horror painted on her pretty face , pointing directly at Dorian. "He was following… he wanted to experiment on the others! I saw him moving after him before the scream!"
Another voice chimed in. "Yes! He was always obsessed with being the best. This is exactly the sort of thing he would do!"
Dorian opened his mouth to protest, to explain, but the words felt hollow, almost irrelevant against the tide of fear and accusation. Every calculation he had ever made, every spell he had ever learned, suddenly seemed meaningless in the face of raw human suspicion.His eyes danced around in fear as his hands trembled trying to come up with a counter but all the students started chattering amongst themselves.
The professor appeared moments later, eyes widening as he took in the scene. He scanned the group, his gaze lingering on Dorian. "Step forward," he said, voice heavy. "You will answer for what has occurred."
Dorian's stomach twisted. "I didn't—" he began, but before he could finish, the students' whispers became shouts, and fingers pointed relentlessly. He could feel their resentment, their envy, their fear coalescing like a physical weight pressing down on him. He was the perfect target: brilliant, isolated, and now accused of a crime he did not commit
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Then he saw her. Lyra. His closest friend, his confidante, the one person he had trusted above all. Her eyes were cold, and her lips curved in a smile that did not reach them. "You always think you're better than everyone," she said softly, almost tenderly. "Maybe now they'll see the truth."
Dorian froze. Her words struck deeper than the accusations of his classmates. She stepped closer, joining the chorus of blame. "He planned this," she whispered to the others. "He wanted to test his power on them. He killed him."
A gasp ran through the group. Professor Kaelen's face darkened, and for the first time in Dorian's life, he felt truly isolated. Every ounce of trust he had placed in his closest companion had been shattered in an instant. The betrayal burned hotter than any fire spell he had ever cast, leaving a hollow, gnawing pain in his chest.
He tried to speak again, to defend himself, but the words stumbled out, weak and unconvincing. Every argument, every plea, seemed swallowed by the collective fear and resentment. The forest, once a place of learning and observation, now felt like a trap, its shadows closing in with every glance from his peers.
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Dorian was escorted back to the academy under guard, his hands bound with shimmering magical restraints. Each step echoed in his mind like a death knell, a reminder that no skill, no knowledge, no intellect could protect him from human malice. He could hear the whispers following him, the quiet judgments of students and teachers alike, and the cold, finality in the words of Lyra, whose betrayal stung worse than any physical wound.
By the time he reached the academy gates, he understood a bitter truth: his brilliance had made him a target. His genius, which had once earned admiration, now earned envy, suspicion, and hatred. And in the quiet of his cell, he realized that this was only the beginning. The forest had not been the threat—it had been the spark that ignited a fire built from human resentment, one that would consume everything he had once held dear.
As night fell over Velmora, Dorian sat alone, the weight of betrayal pressing down on him. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the warmth of Lyra's laughter, the fleeting pride of his family, the security of knowledge and mastery. All of it had been stripped away, leaving him with only one certainty: the world had turned against him.
And somewhere, deep inside, a spark of fury ignited. That spark consumed him like a raging inferno,how could they do this for him for being who he was he hated everyone .He wanted to rip apart all who had accused him. He did not yet know how, nor did he know what fate awaited him, but in that moment, he swore silently that every betrayal would be repaid, every injustice overturned. The path ahead would be dark, but he would walk it.
The Academy outside was a flurry of activity as rumors spread around about what happened.The funny thing about this rumors was how each was different from the last some said that he was practically the devil and that is why he had a higher intellect from the rest of the students,some said that he had gone mad from all the knowledge and that he wanted to practice a forbidden spell on the unlucky student.
While all this was going on Dorian just sat in the holding cell crafted for holding a 3 stage lesser wizard awaiting his fate.
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