The meeting room was an austere chamber, its dark wood walls accented by green and silver banners bearing the falcon crest of House Marcellus. A long table dominated the space, its polished surface reflecting the golden glow of the lanterns hanging overhead. Adrian Marcellus stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding as ever. His salt-and-pepper hair and tailored black coat lent him an air of practiced elegance, but his expression carried a rare weight of seriousness.

Celeste sat to his right, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her sharp green eyes watching Charles carefully. Ardella stood by the window, her stance relaxed but alert, the faint glow of the magical runes on her cuffs a subtle reminder of her power. Charles sat near the middle of the table, his shoulders straight, though tension still lingered in his posture.

Adrian cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Charles, there’s something we need to discuss—something urgent.”

Charles’s gaze snapped to his father. “What is it?”

“Merchant-Prince Ardan Valen contacted me personally this morning,” Adrian said, his voice low. “He’s warned us that plots are already beginning to stir against the house. Your display at the ceremony was seen by many, and it’s drawn attention—some of it unwelcome. Valen’s intelligence suggests shady figures from outside Mar’Vareen have been moving into the city. They’re keeping their distance for now, but the timing isn’t a coincidence.”

Celeste frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We’ve already taken measures to strengthen the villa’s defenses, but we can’t afford to take risks. Charles, until you’re strong enough to protect yourself, you are not to leave the Marcellan Villa unless accompanied by Ardella.”

Charles blinked, surprised. “Not at all?”

Adrian nodded, his expression firm. “Not at all. This isn’t just about your safety, son. It’s about the safety of the entire family. If someone targets you, they’re targeting all of us. Ardella will be stationed here permanently to provide protection.”

“And you’ll be training,” Ardella added, her amber eyes locking on Charles. “Your job is to grow strong enough to handle these threats on your own. I’ll tutor you personally, and we’re already bringing in the best instructors in magic, tactics, and combat to ensure your progress.”

Charles swallowed hard, his gaze shifting between them. The weight of the situation wasn’t lost on him. “You’re asking me to be a prisoner in my own home.”

Celeste’s expression grew more serious. “There’s… one more matter we need to discuss.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Not worried,” she said carefully, “but perhaps uncomfortable. You’re of age now, Charles, and the invitations have already begun arriving. From women across the city—and even other cities. Many of these invitations come from families with considerable influence, and some are… difficult to ignore.”

Charles’s face fell, a mixture of dread and disbelief crossing his features. “You’re joking, right?”

Adrian rubbed his temples, clearly having expected this reaction. “It’s no joke, son. Your status has shifted. You’re no longer just Charles Marcellus—you’re a potential harbinger of the Fourth Age. That kind of attention is inevitable.”

Charles shook his head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t even think about that right now. I’m barely handling the training, let alone entertaining suitors.”

Celeste’s lips tightened. “I understand that this isn’t ideal, but some invitations cannot be declined outright. If you name any debutante in the city, I can produce a handwritten letter from her sitting in our mail right now. This is how the world works, Charles. Alliances are built on these kinds of arrangements.”

Charles stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not ready,” he said firmly, his voice rising. “I’m asking for time—years. Two, three, four, as long as I can get.”

Celeste exchanged a glance with Adrian, her expression conflicted. “We’ll try to shield you as much as possible,” she said finally. “But, Charles, two years is the best I can promise. After that, the pressure will be too great to ignore.”

Charles’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to sit down again, exhaling through his nose. “Fine. Two years. But not a day sooner.”

Adrian leaned forward, his tone reassuring. “We’ll protect you, son. You’ll have time to grow stronger, to find your footing. No one is going to force you into anything you’re not ready for.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, and Charles nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll do my part. But please, keep the invitations as far from me as possible for now.”

“We will,” Celeste said with a faint smile, though the worry in her eyes remained.

Ardella, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice calm but firm. “Charles, focus on your training. The rest will fall into place. I’ll make sure of it.”

Charles glanced at her, her unwavering confidence in him giving him strength. “All right,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Let’s see what I’m capable of.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

---

The training chamber in the Marcellan Villa was still, save for the faint hum of magic dissipating into the air. Charles sat on the polished stone floor, his breathing uneven as he flexed his fingers, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Around him, the residual warmth of the land’s magic lingered, fading slowly like ripples in a pond.

Ardella stood nearby, her amber eyes sharp and calculating as she studied him. Her staff rested against the wall, momentarily forgotten as her thoughts churned.

“You’re drawing magic directly from the land,” she said finally, breaking the silence. “That’s not something a mage of your level should even be able to attempt. It’s the domain of fourth-circle mages—those who’ve spent years building their power and control. And yet, you’re doing it naturally.”

Charles looked up at her, the weight of her words settling over him. “Isn’t that… a good thing?”

“It’s remarkable,” Ardella admitted, pacing slowly as she spoke. “But it’s also a vulnerability. You have no circles, no framework to stabilize your magic. Without them, you’re helpless if your guard is down. You can’t stay awake and alert at all times, Charles. Magic is as much about discipline as it is about instinct, and right now, you’re relying entirely on instinct.”

He frowned, brushing his hands over his knees. “So, what do I do? Build circles anyway? Even if this… connection changes things?”

Ardella stopped and turned to him, her expression resolute. “Yes. The circles are the foundation of a mage’s strength, and you need them more than anyone. Without them, you’ll be overwhelmed. But…” She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“But?” Charles prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Ardella crossed her arms, her voice shifting into the tone of someone considering a theory she hadn’t fully worked out yet. “But your connection to the land might give you an advantage. If you can harness it properly, you could use that power to forge your circles stronger than any mage I’ve ever seen. Most mages build their circles from their own magic alone, but with the land’s magic bolstering yours, the results could be extraordinary.”

Charles tilted his head, his green eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and doubt. “Extraordinary how?”

“It’s hard to say,” Ardella admitted, her tone cautious. “But stronger circles mean greater stability, more power, and fewer limits. It could allow you to wield magic far beyond what even seasoned mages can manage. That kind of strength doesn’t just set you apart—it changes the rules entirely.”

He leaned back, exhaling slowly as he let the implications sink in. “So, I stick to the circles… but do it differently?”

“You’ll have to,” Ardella said firmly. “Even if this is a different path, it’s still a path. And no path worth walking is without structure.” She paused, her gaze softening slightly. “But this is uncharted ground, Charles. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I don’t have all the answers. Which is why…”

She turned toward her staff, retrieving it in one smooth motion. “I’ll write to my mentor. She’s one of the few mages who’ve studied beyond the limits of traditional practice. If anyone can help us make sense of this, it’s her.”

Charles watched her carefully, his fingers brushing against the cool stone beneath him. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Deadly serious,” Ardella said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t just about your potential—it’s about keeping you safe. Without circles, you’re vulnerable, no matter how strong your instincts are. But with them? You could become something truly remarkable.”

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the weight of her words. “Thank you, Ardella. For all of this.”

She gave him a rare, small smile in return. “Don’t thank me yet. The hard part hasn’t even started.”

Charles laughed lightly, shaking his head. “It never does seem to get easier, does it?”

“No,” Ardella said, her smile fading into a determined expression. “But that’s what makes it worth doing.”

She turned to leave but stopped, glancing back at him. “Before I go, I’m assigning you something to work on. Call it… homework.”

Charles groaned, leaning back on his hands. “Can’t I get a break? I just found out I might have to redefine magic as we know it.”

“And that’s exactly why you don’t get a break,” Ardella shot back, crossing her arms. “You need control, Charles. Instinct will only take you so far. Here’s your exercise: I want you to weave strands of mana in the air. Think of it like a game of cat’s cradle. You’ll pull a single thread of magic from the atmosphere—just one—and use it to form shapes between your fingers. Simple ones at first: lines, triangles, maybe a star if you’re feeling ambitious.”

Charles blinked at her, clearly skeptical. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” she said, her tone sharp. “This exercise will teach you precision. Most mages use their internal reserves or draw from structured sources. You’ll be working with free magic in the air—raw, unshaped energy. Pulling it gently, weaving it delicately, and keeping it stable will force you to focus on finesse, not brute force.”

“And if I mess up?”

Ardella raised an eyebrow. “If you mess up, the strand will collapse and dissipate. You’ll have to start over. No harm done—unless you try to force it, in which case you’ll get a very unpleasant feedback shock.”

Charles winced. “Feedback shock. Sounds lovely.”

“It’s harmless,” Ardella said with a faint smirk. “Mostly. The goal is to train your sensitivity to mana. It’s not about power; it’s about control. If you can master this, you’ll be able to shape and manipulate magic with precision. That’s the kind of skill that separates good mages from great ones.”

With that, she turned and left the room, her staff tapping softly against the floor as the door clicked shut behind her.

Charles stared after her for a moment before glancing down at his hands. “Weaving mana like it’s string,” he muttered. “Sure, no big deal. Let me just invent a magical knitting club while I’m at it.”

With a sigh, he sat cross-legged on the floor, extending his fingers and focusing on the air around him. The faint hum of mana brushed against his senses, subtle and elusive. He reached out mentally, visualizing the threads Ardella had described. After a moment, he felt it—a delicate strand, so fine it was barely there.

Gently, he pulled. The thread shimmered faintly, golden and translucent, as it stretched between his fingers. He held his breath, the strain of keeping the connection steady sending a slight tremor through his hands. Carefully, he moved his fingers, trying to shape the strand into a line.

It snapped.

The feedback sent a sharp tingle up his arm, making him yelp. “Okay. Definitely not as easy as it sounds.”

He shook out his hand and tried again, this time pulling slower, his movements more deliberate. A thread formed once more, and he began the painstaking process of weaving. As he worked, a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips.