Kael lay sprawled across the straw mattress in the dim light of his small room, a tattered book opened before him. His eyes were red, not from tears, but from the weight of everything pressing down on his shoulders—his lineage, his dreams, his future.
He wasn't even really reading at first, just flipping pages to distract himself. But then something caught his eye.
"Magical Beasts and Planar Summons"
The heading was vague, but the illustration beneath it pulled his breath from his lungs.
There, etched in faded ink, was a creature with spined wings, a serpentine neck, and bone-scythe talons that looked capable of slicing stone. Kael sat up sharply, the mattress creaking beneath him. His fingers trembled as he brought the book closer.
"This… this is it," he whispered.
It was unmistakable. The same monstrous beast that Tilly had summoned back in the dark forest. The very same creature that had nearly crushed him under claw and flame.
Beneath the image, the beast had a name: "Wyvern — Dragon Class."
Kael's brows knitted together. A dragon? That thing was terrifying, sure—but was it really a dragon? He flipped a few more pages and landed on another illustration.
This time it was unmistakably regal. Long horns, a majestic body covered in thick, scaled armor, and ancient eyes that seemed to gaze into the soul.
"Dragon — True Class."
He held both pages side by side. The resemblance was clear—they both had wings, reptilian traits, and deadly power. But the aura… the essence… the feeling each one conveyed was worlds apart. The wyvern felt like a rabid beast. The dragon felt like a god.
"Why are they grouped together?" Kael muttered. "This doesn't explain anything."
He scowled at the shallow paragraph describing the Wyvern: "An aggressive dragon-type beast of the lower sky-rank class, known to be volatile and hard to control. Frequently mistaken for true dragons."
"Mistaken?" he muttered. "Then what the hell is a true dragon?"
He barely heard the door creak open.
"Kael, we need to talk."
Virelle's voice rang across the room with quiet intensity.
Kael didn't look up. His shoulders stayed slouched, his gaze stuck to the pages, his voice low with frustration.
"I'm not in the mood."
A beat passed.
Then—thwunk!
A sudden snap of air—and a blade embedded itself into the wooden floor just inches in front of Kael's feet. The short knife wobbled slightly from the impact.
Kael's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the short blade — cold, still, and sunk into the wooden floor like it belonged there.
He turned his head sharply, eyes locking with Virelle's.
Her face was blank. Not angry, not smiling, just… still. A stillness that was deeper than silence.
"I promised your mother, Queen Alirien," she said slowly, her voice measured, "that I would keep you away from harm. That you'd grow up free from bloodshed, from vengeance, from the weight of your name."
She looked away from him, eyes distant now. "But I was naïve. I thought hiding you from the world would be enough. That isolation was safety. But I see now..." she paused, letting the words sink, "...safety is not the same as strength."
Kael swallowed hard, his shock giving way to a kind of reverence. He'd never heard Virelle speak like this—like someone who had buried too many truths.
"You're becoming a man, Kael. I can't stop that," she continued. "You'll make your own choices. You should. So if I can't protect you by hiding you..."
She reached down and pulled the blade from the floor with one fluid motion. The metal sang a whisper of defiance as it slid free.
"...then I'll protect you by preparing you."
Her eyes met his again. This time, they weren't blank. They burned with resolve. An iron will Kael hadn't known was hiding behind her maternal warmth.
"Come with me." She smiled, but it was strange—not soft, not comforting. A knowing smile. The kind a predator might flash before baring its claws.
Kael's heartbeat picked up, confused, anxious, but… drawn in. Something in her words rang louder than reason.
He nodded silently, pushing aside the book and rising to his feet. Without another word, they stepped out of the house, the old wooden door closing behind them with a soft creak.
The sunlight bathed the farmland in gold as they crossed the dirt path. Virelle's pace was steady. Focused. Purposeful.
Kael followed closely, noticing how the wind no longer felt hot. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was her presence.
They passed the edge of the familiar field—rows of cabbages and bitterroot—and then the soil beneath their feet began to change. Drier. Cracked. The trees grew closer together. The air heavier.
"Where are we going?" Kael finally asked, breaking the silence that had pressed on his shoulders like a weight.
Virelle didn't even glance back.
"We're here."
Kael narrowed his eyes, glancing around with furrowed brows.
"What do you mean we're here?" he asked, his voice edging with suspicion. "There's nothing here but fields and—"
Before he could finish, Virelle raised a hand—silencing him without words.
Without speaking, she opened her palm, and a cluster of stones shimmered into existence in her grasp. They were unlike any Kael had ever seen — smooth, perfectly spherical, and each etched with strange glowing runes that seemed to hum with restrained energy.
Kael took a half-step back instinctively. "What are those?"
Still silent, Virelle tossed the stones in different directions across the ground. Her motions seemed casual, but too precise to be random. The stones landed without a sound, and then...
They began to glow.
Not just any glow — the symbols on the stones pulsed with soft but vivid light, each a different hue. The air around them grew dense. Thick. Alive.
Kael could feel it — vibrations humming through the soles of his feet and into his bones. One by one, the stones began to rise, floating several feet off the ground, vibrating faster now, casting shifting lights on the soil and Kael's stunned face.
Then the very air in front of them began to warp.
It was no illusion — space itself twisted and shimmered like heated glass, bending the image of the wheat fields beyond it. A chill ran through Kael's spine. The farmland he'd known all his life suddenly felt like a paper mask, now curling at the edges, revealing something far more complex underneath.
Virelle stepped forward suddenly and sharply barked, "Move, Kael. Now."
Kael blinked, but his legs moved before his mind caught up. He followed, eyes wide as the space around the floating stones began to tremble, the air itself seeming to ripple in anticipation.
In a flash, Virelle unfurled a parchment scroll from her sleeve — the paper was old, tan, but the symbols on it burned in radiant blue as if inked in living lightning.
She whispered something under her breath — not a language Kael knew, something older. And then—
Boom!
A soft but sharp explosion of light erupted from each stone. Like a firework made of pure energy, they disintegrated midair, leaving behind faint embers that slowly faded into nothing.
And with them, so did the illusion.
The golden stalks of wheat and the swaying rows of corn peeled away like flaking paint — vanishing to reveal a completely different space:
A hidden chamber.
Wide. Quiet. Dimly lit by small enchanted crystals embedded in the ceiling and walls.
Bookshelves, scroll racks, and cabinets lined one side of the room. In the center was a large wooden table covered with apparatus Kael couldn't begin to understand — glass tubes, runic lenses, metallic frames that looked halfway between magical tools and scientific instruments.
Weapons lined the back wall — not many, but well-kept: an old but polished shield, a short sword with inscriptions glowing faintly on its hilt, and an array of enchanted stones, each stored in its own pocket of a reinforced leather case.
Kael's jaw hung open.
"What... is this place?" he whispered.
Virelle finally turned to him, her voice low but steady.
"This is mine, Kael. Or rather… it was mine. Back when I was more than just a housewife and a former maid."
She stepped into the room, the doorless boundary now entirely stable behind them. "This is where I prepared. This is where I trained myself after we escaped from Varethis. In case… you ever needed to be trained too."
Kael slowly stepped inside, his boots echoing on the stone floor beneath the illusion. His eyes swept over everything — the books, the tools, the ancient scrolls. His heart thudded in his chest.
"Why hide this?" he asked, almost breathless.
Virelle's gaze turned distant for a moment. "Because if someone had found this place while you were still a child… they wouldn't have hesitated to kill both of us. But now?" Her eyes met his again — sharp, unflinching.
"Now you're old enough to know what it means to carry power… and how heavy it is to wield it."
She walked toward the table and placed her hand over a worn leather-bound book titled "Foundations of Personal Magic and Arcane Resistance."
"If you want to go to Thornmere Academy, Kael…" she said, her voice tightening, "…then you won't go as a lost boy looking for revenge. You'll go as my student. And if I've done my part well… as someone they'll learn to fear."