My shoulders ache—a reminder of the training I’ve put myself through over the past few years. It’s a cycle I know all too well by now: the strange visions that come to me, only to fade, leaving me with an unsettling feeling, as though time itself has slipped away.

Despite the physical strain and the weight of those dreams, I find comfort in the thought that my brother, in some way, still watches over me. Even in the quiet, he feels present.

I push back the lingering soreness and rise from bed, stepping toward the window. As I draw back the curtains, soft morning light spills into the room, filling it with warmth.

The ache dulls slightly as I change into a loose pair of trousers and a buttoned shirt, smoothing out the creases. Just as I finish dressing, there’s a knock at the door.

“Breakfast is ready, young lord,” a maid’s voice calls out.

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a minute,” I answer, taking one last look in the mirror. My reflection gazes back with those deep blue eyes that match my father’s and once mirrored my brother’s. My black hair falls past my shoulders, marking my resemblance to them even further. For a moment, I feel the weight of my family’s history pressing down on me, a reminder of the legacy I’m meant to uphold.

Just as I’m straightening my collar, the maid’s voice sounds again through the door. “The lord of the house has requested your presence. He wishes for your immediate arrival.”

A rare family breakfast. It’s been weeks since we all gathered together. A small smile plays on my lips as I head for the door. Family time, as infrequent as it is, is still something I cherish.

I head down the hallway, and as I near the dining room, I see Jerald, my family’s loyal vassal, standing guard by the door. His sharp gaze softens slightly when he sees me, and he gives a polite nod. “Morning, young master.”

“Morning, Jerald,” I respond with a nod of my own. He opens the door, ushering me into the dining room.

Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the spacious room. The large table is elegantly set, with an assortment of food that fills the air with a delicious aroma. Discreetly positioned around the room, maids stand ready to attend to our needs.

As I step in, my father’s intense steel-blue gaze lands on me from the head of the table. I hesitate, my steps faltering under his scrutiny. He always has this effect on me, making me question every movement. But then I spot my mother seated across from him, and her gentle smile brings a warmth that fills me with courage. She gestures for me to take the seat opposite her, and I move forward, finally settling down.

“Good morning, Mother. You look beautiful today,” I say, offering her a warm smile.

A faint blush graces her cheeks as she returns the smile, though there’s a weariness in her eyes, a redness that suggests recent tears. Her honey-colored gaze has lost some of its former joy, and seeing it tugs painfully at my heart. No matter how much I try, I can never seem to bring her back to the way she used to be, but I won’t stop trying.

“Good morning, Kael,” she says softly. “How was your sleep?”

“I slept well,” I reply, a small smile forming as I recall a fond memory. “I dreamed of the capital—the day you took me to that grand auction.”

A faint laugh escapes her, soft and bittersweet. “Yes, I remember that day well. It’s a good memory to hold onto.”

The nostalgia hangs in the air, filling the room with a warmth that I’ve missed, but my father’s voice cuts through it, bringing me back to the present. “I heard you were training late again, Kael,” he remarks, a touch of disapproval lacing his tone. “I’ve told you before, pacing yourself is essential.”

I straighten, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I know, Father… I don’t know what happened. Time just seems to disappear.” I look at him, hoping he’ll understand, but his face remains firm.

He sighs, his gaze softening just slightly. “I understand your desire to improve, Kael, but overworking yourself will do more harm than good. You’ve only recently awakened your core. Don’t strain it too much.”

I nod, though it stings to hear his words. I know he’s only trying to look out for me, but sometimes it feels like he’s doubting my commitment. I can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t believe I’m ready, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

“Listen,” he says, his tone gentler, “I know you think you’re seeing him. But it isn’t real, Kael. Overworking yourself won’t bring him back.”

“Yes, Father,” I say quietly, keeping my tone respectful, though a hint of frustration simmers beneath the surface. It isn’t easy to ignore the visions of my brother, but I know he wants what’s best for me, even if we don’t see eye to eye.

The conversation eases after that, and as we dig into breakfast, the rich flavors of bacon and eggs remind me of the comforts of home. I savor each bite, appreciating these rare moments with my family. We share small talk, reminiscing about lighter memories, and for once, I feel the weight on my shoulders lift, if only for a little while.

As I finish my juice, I glance at my father, sensing he has something important to say. He nods, understanding my silent question.

“You’re turning fifteen in a few months, Kael. I’ve decided it’s time to enrol you at Ravenspire Academy,” he says.

Excitement sparks within me. Ravenspire Academy—one of the most prestigious institutions in the kingdom. It’s what I’ve been working toward for years.

Father continues, his tone steady and unyielding. “Of course, you’ll still need to pass the entrance exams. I assume that’s within your abilities?”

“Yes, Father,” I reply eagerly. “I won’t let you down.”

A rare hint of approval flickers in his eyes before he resumes, “You have six months before the new semester. I expect you to reach tier two by then. We can’t have you embarrassing the family.”

I nod again, though his words dampen my excitement a bit. Reaching tier two in six months will be a challenge, but I’m determined to prove myself.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I start to rise, eager to begin training, but my mother places a gentle hand on my arm. “Hold on, dear,” she says with a smile. “I need you to run some errands in town for me.”

“Yes, Mother,” I say, hiding my reluctance. Going into town always feels… strange. People’s gazes linger a bit too long, and I can’t help but feel their judgments.

“Normally, I’d send Jerald, but he has other duties today,” she explains. “He’ll give you the list.”

Once I’m excused, I step outside the dining room, where Jerald is waiting with a small envelope and a list. “Here you go, young master,” he says with a respectful nod, handing them to me.

“Thank you, Jerald,” I reply, tucking the items into my coat pocket.

The town centre is bustling, people moving about with their own errands. I chuckle to myself; here I am, a noble’s son, running errands just like everyone else.

My first stop is the alchemist’s shop, a small wooden building filled with the scent of strong herbs and chemicals. An elderly man sits behind the counter, his bushy gray hair and ever-present pipe making him instantly recognizable.

“Morning, Hector,” I greet him.

“Ah, morning, young lord,” he rasps, adjusting his glasses. “What can I do for you today?”

“Just here to pick up a few things for my mother,” I say, handing him the list.

“No Jerald today?” he asks, scanning the paper.

“No, he has other duties,” I reply.

“Ah, must be the convoy arriving today. I heard more nobles are supposed to be coming. Other than your family, of course,” he adds with a wink.

I hadn’t heard about any visitors, but it’s likely someone looking to make ties with my father. Hector shuffles into the back room, and a moment later, he returns with a small pouch.

He slowly hands it over, “Be careful with this, boy. Drop it, and the whole town will explode,” he says, his expression dead serious.

Um what??? A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead as I stare at the pouch, horrified. “What exactly is my mother using this for?” I mutter. I know Dad can be distant but to resort to this?

Hector cracks a grin, a cloud of smoke curling from his pipe. “Just pulling your leg, boy. You should’ve seen the look on your face!” He laughs

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but laugh. “Good one, old man,” I say with a smirk, heading for the door. “Have a good day.”

As I finish my errands and begin to make my way home, I wander through the town’s bustling market. It’s busy at this time of day, with stalls and carts filled with goods, fresh produce, and trinkets from every corner of the kingdom. My eyes catch on a small, neatly arranged stand, its wooden surface covered with delicate jewellery and fine ornaments that sparkle in the afternoon light.

Behind the stand is a striking woman with dark hair and piercing green eyes that seem to hold hidden mysteries only she knows. She watches me approach with a warm, knowing smile that’s both inviting and a little unsettling.

“Hello, young lord,” she greets me, her voice smooth and honeyed. “What brings you to my humble stand?”

I clear my throat, feeling a bit flustered under her gaze. “Just browsing,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure why I stopped. I let my gaze roam over the items, searching for something that might be suitable for my mother. “Actually… I was thinking of getting something for my mother,” I admit.

“A thoughtful son,” she remarks, her smile growing. She studies me for a moment before glancing down at the selection of jewellery laid out on the table. “What did you have in mind? I have a little of everything. Something elegant? Perhaps a bit of colour?”

I nod, feeling a bit more at ease. “Yes, maybe a pair of earrings—something simple but… refined.” I picture my mother’s soft smile and her honey-coloured eyes, the way she used to beam on happier days.

“Ah, I see,” she murmurs, reaching down to carefully sort through a small tray of jewellery. She selects a pair of earrings, a delicate design, with silver roses around a small, soft-blue stone. “These should do the trick,” she says, holding them up to the light. “Elegant, but not too flashy. Your mother will appreciate the subtle beauty.”

I take a closer look and nod in approval. “They’re perfect.” I feel a surprising sense of relief, hoping that maybe this small gift will bring a smile to my mother’s face, if only for a moment.

She watches me with an amused glint in her eye, clearly enjoying herself. “You have good taste, young lord,” she says with a wink. “It’s not every day I get a noble with such an eye for quality.”

I shift under her gaze, feeling both flattered and a little embarrassed. “Thank you,” I reply, doing my best to match her confidence, though I can tell she’s amused by my effort.

As I hand over the payment for the earrings, my eyes catch on another piece of jewellery lying near the back of the table. It’s a necklace, simple but eye-catching, with an hourglass pendant crafted from polished silver. The sand inside is a rich, golden colour, and it seems to shimmer faintly as it catches the light.

“Ah,” she says, noticing my gaze. “Drawn to that one, are you?”

I hesitate, unsure why the necklace captivates me so much. “It’s… interesting. Different from the other pieces,” I murmur, reaching out to touch the hourglass pendant. There’s something oddly compelling about it, like it was waiting here just for me.

“Indeed,” she replies, her tone dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “An unusual piece, to be sure. I don’t often display it. Not everyone appreciates its… unique nature.” Her eyes glint, watching me closely as if gauging my reaction.

“Is it for sale?” I ask, slightly mesmerised by the pendant.

She studies me for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “For you, young lord, consider it a gift.”

I blink in surprise. “Are you sure?”

She nods, her smile widening. “Absolutely. A token for a noble soul. I can tell it suits you.”

“Thank you,” I say, slipping the necklace into my pocket. “That’s very generous of you.”

Her expression softens, and she leans in a bit closer. “Think of it as a charm. You never know when you might need a little extra luck… or a reminder of time’s precious nature.”

Her words linger in the air, cryptic and weighty, as if she knows more than she’s letting on. I feel a chill run down my spine, but I shake it off, offering her a polite nod. “Thank you again. I’ll take good care of it.”

“Do take care, young lord,” she replies, watching me with that same mysterious smile as I turn to leave. I glance back once before moving on, finding her gaze still fixed on me, her eyes full of secrets I can’t quite understand.

With my errands finished, I make my way back home, my mind still lingering on the strange pendant and the merchant’s cryptic manner. By the time I approach the gates, several carriages are lined up outside, indicating the arrival of visiting nobles.

I pass through the main doors and continue down the hall, noticing that Jerald isn’t there to greet me this time. As I approach the training yard, the sound of steel slicing through the air draws my attention. I step into the courtyard and freeze at the sight before me.

A girl, around my age, her brunette hair sticking to her face as she dances around the training yard. There’s a fierceness to her, a focused intensity that captivates me.

But she’s not dancing. She’s practicing a deadly, beautiful martial form.

As if sensing my presence, she suddenly stops, her gaze locking onto mine. Her green eyes are intense, holding me in place, as if demanding an answer to a question I don’t yet know.

“What are you staring at?” she snaps, her voice sharp.

I blink, momentarily thrown off.

“Are you deaf?” she presses, crossing her arms. “It’s not polite for servants to gawk.”

I glance down, realizing my clothes are dusty from the trip to town, and I must look a bit disheveled. Embarrassment flares up, but before I can correct her, she interrupts.

“Are you slow, too?” she taunts. “Can’t even speak?”

My prior admiration for her quickly fades as irritation rises. This girl, beautiful as she is, seems like quite woman. And not in the good way…

“I can speak just fine,” I say, forcing calm into my voice.

She scoffs, a slight smirk forming on her lips. “Then why were you staring? Do you need me to teach you some manners?”

Before I can respond, she tosses a wooden practice dagger at me. I catch it instinctively, my grip steady despite my confusion.

“Good. At least you’re not entirely useless,” she remarks, her tone mocking. She shifts into a fighting stance, her gaze narrowing. “Come on, then. Let’s see if you’re as slow in a fight.”

I stare at her, caught between annoyance and amusement. This girl is… absolutely infuriating. But there’s something undeniably captivating about her confidence and boldness.

With a sigh, I grip the wooden dagger, steeling myself. If she wants a fight, I won’t back down.