Knowledge, Elysia believed, was the first form of power a child should learn to respect.
Not strength. Not magic. Not blood.
Understanding.
The lesson took place in the western library, a circular chamber lined with tiered shelves that rose like a quiet amphitheater. Sunlight streamed in from a domed skylight, illuminating dust motes that drifted lazily in the air. Vincent and Melaina sat at a low table carved from darkwood, their silver bracelets glinting faintly as they rested their hands upon its surface.
Today, they listened.
"The world you will inherit," Elysia began, "is not ruled by nations alone. It is ruled by races, and among them, the Beast Race stands apart."
She gestured, and the air above the table shimmered. Four images formed—vast, living silhouettes shaped of light and shadow.
"These," she said, "are the Four Sovereigns of the Beast Race."
The first image took shape—wings wide, talons sharp, eyes keen with intellect.
"Griffins," Elysia said. "Masters of sky and stone. They rule through vigilance and balance. Griffins possess bloodline abilities tied to perception, guardianship, and judgment. Their power is subtle but relentless."
The image shifted—scales like molten gold, eyes burning with ancient memory.
"Dragons," she continued. "Dominion incarnate. Their blood remembers the world's birth, and their abilities revolve around knowledge, destruction, and authority. Dragons do not merely cast spells—they understand them."
Vincent leaned forward.
The third image ignited into radiant flame—rebirth and ruin entwined.
"Phoenixes," Elysia said softly. "Beings of cycle and renewal. Their power is drawn from life itself. Creation and annihilation are not opposites to them, but companions."
Finally, the air darkened, water forming a vast, coiling shape that swallowed light.
"Leviathans," Elysia said. "Rulers of depth and erasure. They govern oceans, pressure, and the stripping away of excess. Where they move, the world is reduced to essence."
Melaina's voice was quiet. "And vampires?"
Elysia smiled faintly. "We are observers… and inheritors."
She waved the images away.
"Each race," she continued, "possesses bloodline abilities—powers unique to their species. These are not learned. They are awakened."
She turned a page in the book before her, though no text was written upon it.
"Let us begin with one of the most dangerous."
The air crackled faintly.
"Life Maelstrom," Elysia said. "A technique that harnesses stored world energy within the body, compressing and refining it until it can be released as silver lightning."
She lifted her hand, and a thin arc of silver energy danced between her fingers—beautiful and terrifying.
"This energy is raw existence," she explained. "It can destroy cities or invigorate life. It can empower living beings, artifacts, golems—anything capable of holding energy. Creation and destruction are equally possible."
She closed her hand, and the lightning vanished.
"Most who wield it fail to understand restraint."
Vincent nodded slowly.
Elysia's gaze sharpened. "Next—Dragon Eyes."
The room seemed to deepen.
"These eyes allow their bearer to replicate any spell they witness," she said. "But do not misunderstand—they do not grant understanding automatically."
She looked directly at Vincent.
"They reveal structure. Flow. Intent. But without knowledge, what you see is meaningless. A Dragon Eye wielder without study is blind despite their sight."
Melaina tilted her head. "So learning matters."
"More than power," Elysia agreed.
She exhaled, and the air warmed.
"Origin Flames," she said, her voice lower now. "Also known as dragon fire… or phoenix flame."
Fire bloomed briefly above the table—not red or orange, but white-gold, alive and devouring even the light around it.
"These flames are born from the union of world energy and life force," Elysia said. "They consume everything—matter, magic, enchantment, even ambient energy itself."
The flame vanished, leaving the air eerily clean.
"Sand becomes glass. Arrays collapse. Nothing survives unchanged."
Melaina swallowed.
"For phoenixes," Elysia continued, "there exists an extension of this power—Molting Essence."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"A phoenix may transform their entire body into living Origin Flames. Damage becomes meaningless. But abuse of such power strains the life force itself. Rebirth is not infinite."
The room fell quiet.
Then Elysia straightened.
"And finally," she said, "the power most feared by all races."
The temperature dropped.
"Doom Tide."
The very wards of the room seemed to hum uneasily.
"Doom Tide drains world energy from the surroundings," she said. "Spells fail. Arrays shut down. Techniques dependent on world energy are sealed. Even bloodline abilities weaken."
Her voice was precise. Unemotional.
"Cores erode. Artifacts become mundane. Power collapses."
Vincent whispered, "And afterward?"
Elysia's eyes were dark. "The stolen energy may be released."
She spread her hands slightly. "A violent, omnidirectional return. Few survive the release."
Melaina frowned. "That sounds… absolute."
"It is," Elysia said. "But Doom Tide carries a passive gift—Elemental Flow."
She traced invisible lines in the air.
"Arrays may be formed instantly. Moved freely. Altered at will. Activated or dismissed without effort. Control replaces brute force."
She lowered her hands.
"Remember this," Elysia said quietly. "Power that destroys without understanding is common. Power that controls reality is rare."
She looked at her children—bracelets gleaming, eyes bright with comprehension rather than hunger.
"And humans?" Vincent asked.
Elysia paused.
"Humans," she said slowly, "possess no known bloodline ability."
Melaina sensed the hesitation. "Yet."
Elysia smiled.
"Yet."
The lesson ended not with awe—but with respect.
And that, Elysia knew, was how true power began.