The voices echoed in the grand hall, but I couldn’t see their faces. Not that it mattered—I’d long since stopped trying to imagine the expressions that accompanied the words. It was always the same: a mix of disappointment and disdain, thinly veiled behind polite smiles. I stood still, hands clasped behind my back, while my father’s voice thundered above the rest.

“Do you understand the burden you place on this family, Caelan?” His tone was cold, clipped. The kind of tone that didn’t expect an answer. “A son of House Veylora should be a pillar of strength, not... this.”

This. The word lingered in the air, sharp as a blade. My blindness wasn’t something he could say outright—it wasn’t dignified enough. Instead, he danced around it, letting his silence speak louder than his words.

I tilted my head slightly, a habit I’d picked up when I wanted to seem thoughtful. “Yes, Father. I understand.”

I could feel his eyes on me, scrutinizing every inch of my posture. My mother, as always, was silent. I knew she was there, sitting a few steps away, but she rarely intervened in these moments. Her presence was like a faint breeze—comforting, but unable to shield me from the storm.

“You understand,” he repeated, his voice lowering. “But what do you do? What do you offer this house, Caelan?”

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. What do I offer? That question had haunted me for years. I wasn’t like Aric, my older brother, whose swordsmanship and charisma had earned him my father’s pride. I wasn’t even like my cousins, who contributed to the family’s alliances with their talents in politics or trade.

“I will find a way to contribute,” I said quietly. My voice betrayed none of the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

There was a scoff from my right—Aric, no doubt. His voice cut through the silence like a whip. “Find a way? What way is that, little brother? You can’t even find your way to the training yard without help.”

Laughter followed, low and cruel. I felt heat rise to my cheeks but forced myself to remain still. Reacting would only make it worse. That was a lesson I’d learned early: never give them the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

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“Enough, Aric,” my mother said softly, finally breaking her silence. It wasn’t a command, but a suggestion. A gentle plea that would be ignored, as always.

“Enough?” Aric’s tone was mocking. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

“Aric,” my father interjected, his tone sharp. “That will do.”

For a moment, silence filled the hall. I stood there, motionless, as my father’s words lingered in the air. Finally, he let out a long sigh, the sound heavy with disappointment.

“Dismissed,” he said curtly.

I turned and walked away, keeping my pace steady, my head held high. The cool stone floor beneath my boots was familiar, comforting in its consistency. The moment I left the hall and stepped into the quieter corridors of Veylora Keep, I exhaled, letting the tension drain from my shoulders.

What do I offer? The question echoed in my mind again. The answer was painfully clear: nothing. Not yet.

I traced my fingers along the smooth stone wall, finding my way to the library. It was my refuge, the one place where I could escape the weight of expectations. Master Briar would be there, as he always was, surrounded by piles of books and scrolls.

As I stepped inside, the familiar scent of parchment and ink greeted me. Briar’s voice, warm and steady, reached me before I could call out.

“Ah, young master Caelan. Come in.”

I walked toward the sound, navigating the room with practiced ease. The library was one of the few places I felt truly comfortable. Here, I wasn’t judged for what I couldn’t do. Instead, I was valued for what I could learn.

“Rough morning?” Briar asked, his tone light but knowing.

I let out a dry laugh. “You could say that.”

“Your father means well, in his own way,” Briar said carefully. “But his vision is... limited.”

“Limited?” I raised an eyebrow, amused by the irony. “You mean because he has it.”

Briar chuckled softly, the sound like rustling leaves. “Touché, young master. But sight isn’t everything, you know. There are other ways to perceive the world.”

I tilted my head, curious. “Other ways?”

“You’ll understand in time,” Briar said cryptically. “For now, why don’t we focus on your studies? I found an interesting scroll about the history of magic infusion. I think you’ll find it fascinating.”

I nodded, letting his words settle in my mind. Other ways to perceive the world. The thought lingered as I sat down and began to listen, his voice weaving stories of ancient magic and forgotten techniques.

For the first time that day, the weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter. Maybe I didn’t have the answers yet, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of the library, I could at least begin to search for them.