The sun beat down through the windows into the room that smelt of aged parchment and smoke. Books dotted the floor in messy hills and towers. Half-finished papers dotted the walls with notes and research. An old man sat across a table from a young boy. The old man's robes came to the floor in ruffled waves as they sprawled about his feet and chair. Books lay open strewn on the table in a messy fashion as the boy read the contents. The boy's eyes held onto the page, trying to understand what he was reading. Silent was rooms atmosphere until an exasperated sigh came from the boy.

"Master Vendrick, I don't understand what this means! It says Magicka forms from the 'will of the world'. What is that?!"

The old man looked up from his pipe, a slight, albeit hidden, grin on his face as he monologues.

That is where you find yourself caught? Not in the entirety of the exclusion principle nor the Porelium phenomenon? Mhm, you are your mother's child.

He put down his pipe and walked over the boy. "Arawn what are you and I?"

Arawn was hesitant in his own response to such a basic but tricky question "Er, humans?"

"Yes, but we are something else, more base."

"Animals?"

"Animals? What in the nine signs are you talking about lad?" Vendrick erupted into laughter "No Arawn, we are alive!"

Arawn's brows furrowed as he took the words inside of his mind. Part of him wishing this room didn't somehow prevent his innate ability. Vendrick returned to his chair and his pipe watching Arawn.

"Master."

"Yes, Arawn?"

"Does the world have a mana core?"

Vendrick stiffened for a moment before responding "What brings you to that thought?"

"Well..." Arawn gathered his thought for a moment. "Last week you told me every living thing has a mana, and since you say the 'will of the world' is alive, shouldn't it have one too?"

A wide smile broke out beneath the long white beard of Vendrick showing rows of poorly cared for teeth. "Well, you both right and wrong lad. The world doesn't have a mana core because it is the mana core."

"I-I don't understand."

"Well, let me explain then, hm?" Vendrick rose from his chair and approached one of the many piles of books lying around the room. Vendrick then began digging into one and pulled out a tome. He then walked over to Arawn, and lay the book in front of him, taking the one he was reading already away. "Read this one for now before we continue on."

Arawn studied the cover of the tome. 'The Voice of Ages' was the name in aged gold embellishment. "I thought you said you were going to explain master?"

"I will, once you have read to page 422, paragraph three."

Arawn groaned. "More reading..."

Vendrick chuckled "You should know there always will be." He lit fresh mix in his pipe, puffing it as he cracked open a book himself.

The day's studies ended like that. While Arawn wouldn't admit it, his daily studies were the best part of his. As such he developed a craving for knowledge he had never before felt in his past. He walked outside of his masters home on his mother's estate taking in the fresh air that greeted him. He made his direction to the main building. Arawn passed through the gardens and by servants as they catered to his mother's gardens. He opened the door and stepped in. The hustle and bustle of the servants evident as they carried trays and decorations. After all, it was his eighth day of birth.

Eight years huh...

He tossed about the memories in his new life he had made. The faces he had seen, the people and compared as best he could to his old life. Arawn did this as he walked through the almost endless feeling halls and corridors to his room.

He turned the handle and entered the dark room. Shades covered the windows to let minimal light in as he walked to the chair given to him on his sixth day of birth. The room was large and spacious. Books lined shelves and he even had a writing desk in a corner for when he grew older, as of now he was too short to use it. Arawn's gaze turned towards an orb sitting at the desk, black as night. He approached the orb, called a tuning stone. He picked it up and it glowed a faint white, representing his magical potential. He frowned as the glow hadn't increased at all. He was first tested at age two, most children with magical abilities don't show until age five. Yet, he had grown now beyond age five and his ability hadn't grown further. It wasn't that he had poor talent, it was at best average.

Average...

He remembered the look on his mother's face when Master Vendrick informed her of the result's. He watched and listened through a crack in the door, worried at the time when his eyes froze on her expression. It was a look of pity and disappointment. She never showed that look to himself, as she always smiling when he was before her. Yet Arawn still knew that his mother found his talent lackluster. After all, how couldn't she with all the power she holds in her fingertips. He set down the swirling orb on the desk, watching as the faint blue light died out. That was the only thing interesting about his magicka talent.

When a person held a tuning stone the light is always white. Anyone can learn any magicka, so long as they are able to perform its mana rite, or its 'spell'. Magicka splits into categories of specialization from here. Among those were the main ones such as Elvit, Muro, and Gudan.

Elvit was the power of nature and was the most attack-oriented of the three main groups. Muro altered the perception world itself with alchemy and illusions listed as a part of it. Gudan was the augmentation of the body and the world with enchanting listed under it.

But, Arawn found himself unable to wield even the most basic forms of magic due to the blue light of his mana core. It frustrated him, he had mana but he couldn't use it! Part of him felt fear. What might happen if he disappointed his mother again? After all, even if she had always been so doting on him, would it continue as he aged? Part of Arawn wished his innate ability helped him plan things out. Arawn was never good at considering possibilities in times like this.

Arawn sighed as a knock came to the door, an older woman in a uniform stepped in, wrinkles creased her features. Arawn felt as old eyes shown a dying spark of life, though still, they shined with kind gentleness fell upon him. He felt them even as his front faced away. "Young master, the mistress calls for you in her room."

Arawn nodded and turned his gaze from the stone to the woman.

= "Alright, Gres, I'll go see mother."

Arawn always found it silly his talent showed up in the most basic of conversation. Yet, then again, it had helped him countless times too. The number of times he had been able to say the right thing at the right time was insane. Even at his young age, he had been building connections to people through their children. It helped that the parents wanted to get close to his mother themselves. Even now he didn't quite understand his mother's position. Whenever he asked it was always 'wait till you're older'. Even the talent he possessed couldn't wrestle anything out of them. This irritated Arawn. Hidden tension would immediately enter the air upon bringing up the subject. Like some sort of physical manifestation of fear.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Arawn walked out of his room. The maid, Gres, following shortly behind as he walked the length of the hallway to his mother's room. His gaze traced along the countless paintings and artworks as his eyes fell on the dark oaken door at the end. Arawn knocked upon the wood thrice as his mother called him to enter.

Entering the room, one wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Though the expression too ordinary would fit better. Almost completely opposite of the rest of the home. This room alone felt as if it belonged inside of cottage on some distant hill. Here too, books lined shelves much like his own did. Except here there were magicka tomes. All tomes were bound by various spells and barriers to prevent them from theft. His mother sat at her desk in the center of the room.

"Mistress Idil, I have brought your son as requested." Gres bowed once she finished speaking. Idil continued writing without speaking. Idil waved her free hand in dismissal of the maid, who bowed once more before turning. The only sound being Gres shutting the door behind her as she departed.

Silence came over the room's atmosphere save the scratching of the quill on parchment. Evermore did Arawn want to say something, but when all your options were these.

-    "You called me mother?" =    Say nothing -    "I've come as you asked mother."

Arawn realized in this moment you weren't supposed to speak till spoken too. Minutes ticked by, and neither did Arawn's choices change or did his mother speak. The tension grew heavier as he began taking in the details he never noticed before. Scratches on the table, tiny scars on her face were among the discoveries. Arawn grew worried what he did, unsure of what trouble he had caused.

"Arawn." His mother spoke and he flinched. "Do you know why I called you?"

Arawn's mind was still playing catch-up, so it took a moment to process the question.

=    "I did something bad?"

In truth, if Arawn didn't have this talent, he would have likely stuttered a no in response.

Idil chuckled "I'm surprised, it is your eighth day of birth after all."

Ah... In truth, Arawn had already forgotten what today was due to the tension. Even though not even hours ago he watched servants move passed him. Preparing the night's festivities.

"So you had forgotten, hm? Well, it is good to invest in one's studies, though not to the degree of forgetting one's surroundings." Tension melted out of the room as if it was never there. "That isn't why I called you here through my child." Idil rose from her chair and walked to a shelf. "Come Arawn, let me give you your gift early." She reached towards a dusty bookshelf and pulled out a tome, only to put it back after flipping it upside down.

A loud chunk rang out from behind the wall, as the shelf sank into it. Arawn watched with rapt attention as the shelf slunk to the side. Revealing a torch lit passage beyond. Idil held out her hand, and Arawn took it.

They descended side by side, step by step down the stone stairs at a slow, pace. Dust and cobwebs covered the walls, as the scent of mildew assaulted his nostrils. Arawn wanted to cringe. Yet he couldn't as any action risked affection. Worse was he didn't know how much either.

The stairs ended in a circular, cylinder-like room. In the center sat the sole furniture, a table with a tuning stone on-top. Arawn opened his mouth only to speak empty air with the warning of affection loss by his talent. Idil let go of his around and walked to the table, picking up the stone.

"Arawn, come."

Arawn's legs walked without his own will to his mother, his eyes on the stone. It was now he realized what was before him couldn't be a tuning stone. Arawn studied the orb as a black mass swirled within the dark crystal whispering sweet lust in his eyes.

"My child, it is the eighth day of birth. Thus the day in our family upon which you, my eldest and only child, receive your inheritance as is due." Arawn swallowed hard as anxiety-filled him like a basin the more he watched the mass move.

"It is time you come to know your history, your legacy, your right. Touch the stone Arawn."

Arawn moved his right arm as if in a trance. His fingers shook above the black orb, his heartbeat in his ear at a running pace. His breath quickened as his fingers grazed the stone. Arawn's body spasmed as he touched the stone, his eyes glowed white and he began to scream.

Letters and number danced across his vision throwing his mind into disarray. They organized into feelings, emotions, thoughts, power. The numbers and letters became people destroying cities. Into people saving lives, ruling men, and beast, and ruling even the undead. He saw countless men and women, his ancestors, pass through his vision till he saw his mother, then himself. Arawn's body froze in place as he saw himself come undone before his own eyes. Layers stripped off this mental image. Skin, flesh, bone, all taken away till all that remained were two dots. He understood what they were, his soul and mana core. They rotated around a fixed point, and something was there. His subconscious almost screamed that was the case, but Arawn couldn't see what.

Yet he wanted it, he needed it. A craving for the unseen crept from within, and he reached for it. His vision turned black and he lost consciousness.

Idil's face twisted into a disturbed grin, her face like that of a beast having found fresh prey. Her eyes took in every feature of her collapsed child and she began panting as if a dog in heat. She said not a word, but picked up her child and laid him bare upon the table, the orb on his chest. She waltzed back up the stairs and triggered the hidden door to move back. The sadistic smile upon her features gone like a dream.

For you, my child shall possess everything I have and am...

A wet spot appeared in her lower section beneath her multi-layered dress, hidden. She licked her lips as she opened the door. Night had long fallen as she approached the hall, already many guests had arrived for child's day of birth.

As such worms should.

She smiled at all who looked her way, the mask of the kindly mother back onto her features. She walked up the impromptu stage and waved her hands to become the focus of the hall. Of course, not that such a hard thing for her of people to do though.

"Apologizes, but may I hold your attention for a moment." Silence fell into the hall as if no one was there at all.

"Thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming for my child's eighth day of birth. It is unfortunate for me to say but Arawn has taken ill so cannot join his own celebration."

With perfect movements did this she-devil in disguise bow as if a princess of the oldest blood. "Yet, I doubt my son would want to cause anyone such trouble after you all took the time to gather for him. Thus will have the festivities still! Enjoy yourselves on the food and the activities." She spread her hands wide as the bards took up a tune. She stepped off the stage to immerse herself in the crowd to perform the pleasantries she so did hate. Idil walked among the guests with smiles and sweet words. Ever so fitting the convincing act she had created and acted for fifteen years now. After the hours grew into the late hour, the guests dispersed from her home. The guests left the gifts they had brought in another room, and Idil smiled and waved them off. Only when the last guest left and her door shut did the smile melt off her face like wax leaving a cold air about her. The head butler Serrant stood by her. Being the only member of the household privileged with the secrets of the family. Then again when you had served a family as long as he had loyalty wasn't a question.

"Mistress Idil, how has the young masters awakening gone?"

"Better than expected, beyond in fact. If I understand things it may be the closest we've gotten." Idil walked up the ornate staircase with Serrant close behind.

"Of course, such an outcome is understandable since you are at the helm mistress."

Idil cracked a cool smile, loving whenever she heard compliments. Her perfection was clear was it not. "Mm, so it is. Now we wait to see what the outcome of the awakening will be."

"I await the new lords commands with vigor." Serrant bowed as Idil entered her room.

Serrant didn't budge until the door clicked shut. He turned back down the staircase and walked towards a wall, and melted into it. On the other side was a bedroom, Serrant's own. He walked to a shelf a plucked an aged tome from it and sat in a chair before a crackling blue fire reading.

Will his wish finally come true? Serrant's mind turned to memories of the past, a time where he held a different name and title. How joyous it would be,

Oh young master Arawn, grow up soon so I may be of use to you too.

Behind Serrant on the wall sat his shadow as he read. If one paid attention they would realize it was not a shadow that should belong to a man, but to a beast.

Arawn's eyes flickered as his consciousness returned. He groaned as he felt the weight of the orb on his chest. He looked around the dark room as the memories of what had happened surfaced. He shot up into a sitting position causing the orb to roll off his naked body towards the floor. Instead, it was caught by someone before it reached.

"Good morning Arawn." His mother greeted him as she always had, no trace of anything out of the ordinary. He calmed down as seconds passed, his body shivering as he came to realize something.

It's cold in here. Idil smiled and handed clothing to him, a robe to be exact. Arawn hopped off the table and felt the soft silk and tuft robe and put it on himself. Almost the moment the robe touched his skin he felt cold wash away. Part of him began to wonder why he felt fear and confusion towards his mother. A warm feeling crept up in his stomach washing it away.

"Come with me Arawn."

"Uh huh..." Arawn's eyes gained a hazy hue as he followed behind his mother through the sole door in the room.