A young little boy was tucked away underneath his white sheets, matching the color of his complexion. Only his cheeks and forehead ran the hue of a fever, sweat dripping down his temple as his nose scrunched in discomfort.

By his bedside was an elderly priest, his complexion washed in fear and worry. Not because of the state the boy was in, but the man before him.

"You're telling me that my son doesn't have an ounce of magic in him? As a Faithstone?" the duke scowled, his gloved fists clenched in arousing bate.

The priest lowered his stance, letting out a terrified whimper in response, "M-My apologies, Your Grace. Those were his results..." He tried to tame Duke Faithstone's fury by re-stating the information he received from the procedure, but it was fruitless. He was met with the duke's piercing glare instead, the atmosphere in the room turning grimmer than before.

A pair of crimson eyes glinted with malice, the duke readjusting his gloves by tugging down at the fabric. With a gravely voice, he gave the old man an aggressive warning, "I'm not fond of your jest. Those who are insolent enough to lie before me have their necks wiped off clean by my hand."

The priest fell down to his knees, his hands intertwined together before begging for his life, "Please have mercy, Your Grace! I swear by the holy deity Silran that it is true!"

Duke Faithstone grit his jaw, standing in the chamber for a few moments before excusing himself from the room in rage. His steps were heavy, shoving the door open before it swung back harshly. The priest shrieked at the dramatic exit, taking a moment to recollect himself after realizing that he had just been spared.

The resting boy was barely conscious, startled from the brief uproar his father caused. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the silhouette of his father past the cracks of the door. The crevice began to grow smaller as he watched him storm further away.

With his dry lips, the boy croaked out a weak, "Father?..." His eyes squinted from the brightly lit hallway, a thin shade of blue reflected in his pupils.

His hand reached out towards the pale light, the distorted figure of his father between the spaces of his fingers.

Slowly, the door creaked shut before he could call out once more.

• • •

Lysian sat in the back of the lecture room, comfortably watching from above in his own little corner. The past few days, he had been receiving so much attention that he had grown sick of it. It was a big jump from being tutored at home to being at the academy where there were other kids his age. He hadn't realized how truly famous his family was until he enrolled, overwhelmed with his popularity.

Whether or not his peers had malicious intent, Lysian couldn't help but feel as though he didn't deserve it. He could already picture their faces once they realize he's not as special as his surname made him out to be.

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His eyes grew dreary, his long lashes fluttering to a close for a seconds worth of rest. 'I can't even focus well because of that dream this morning,' he thought to himself, recalling bits and pieces of it, 'Why did I have it again? It's been a few years since I dreamt of that day.'

Reflecting on the memory was immediately ripped away, snapping back to reality upon hearing the sound of his professor's voice. "Faithstone? Can you answer this question up on the board for me?" A blonde woman called out from the podium, readjusting her glasses on her nose bridge.

The glass glinted underneath the classroom's lighting, a sense of sternness coming from her pose. She then spitefully added, "Since you seem like you already know the contents of this unit already, having the gall to fall asleep during my lecture."

Lysian's eyes shot open, his bottom lip protruding out in worry. "Oh, shoot! I wasn't paying attention," he muttered to himself, caught off guard for a moment. But he quickly regained composure, a humble smile spreading across his thin lips, "Of course, Ms. Steiner."

He got up from his seat, receiving stares full of anticipation from his peers as he stepped down the staircase. It was dead quiet when he made it to the podium, Ms. Steiner shifting to the side to give him space to work with.

Upon the white board was a complicated math equation. To most of the students in the room, it must have looked like a bunch of letters next to a few numbers in an elaborate fashion.

Lysian picked up a marker, taking a second to read what was on the board before popping the pen open. Without hesitation, his slender fingers scraped against the surface with the writing utensil's edged tip.

In seconds, the equation was solved from just a single glance.

Ms. Steiner's jaw dropped in shock, her glasses gawking along with her as they had tilted down her face. She did not expect for him to figure it out so quickly, especially when the class demographic was still struggling with the unit.

She quickly cleared her throat to recollect herself, going back to a more professional appearance. "I see..." she coughed, holding a fist to her mouth to hide her embarrassment, "So you were paying attention. You may be seated, Faithstone."

Content, Lysian climbed his way back up the stairs to find his seat. As he did, he caught a red haired boy glaring at him shamelessly. It was hard for him to ignore, as he was the one who left the biggest impression on him on his first day.

The brown haired boy who sat beside him across the walkway stuck his foot out, a mischievous smirk across his face. Lysian was so focused on finding his seat amongst the sea of desks that he failed to notice. He ended up kicking his shoe against his leg before tumbling forward. He managed to catch himself, thankful that he didn't land on his hands and knees like a fool.

Lysian's ruby eyes darted over at the perpetrator, his thin brows furrowing in disapproval.

"Oh, my. So sorry, Faithstone. You should be more careful," the boy snickered with an amused leer, exaggerating his voice with insincerity. "My legs can't help but feel cramped underneath these tiny desks! You'd understand that sentiment too, right?" He feigned an apologetic smile, his head tilting down to gesture at Lysian's lengthy limbs for reference.

Lysian's eyebrow twitched, unsure how to respond to such deviant behavior. He had never faced such discreet hostility before. He glanced over at the redhead again, noticing that his expression of contempt hadn't changed.

"Faithstone?" Ms. Steiner called out from the front. Her tone was a lot less rude compared to before, but she was still as stern, "Please go back to your seat."

There was a weird sense of dissatisfaction that spiraled around Lysian's chest, his fists clenched as he stood in the middle of the walkway. He then sighed, taking another step forward to do what he had originally wanted: go to his desk.

The silence was now even more deafening than before, the sounds of his light footsteps echoing across the expansive room. Once he was sat, he could hear the remaining giggles from the small group of boys that had humiliated him. It was unnerving.