I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring at the spot where the Voice had just been. The void around me began to fade, giving way to the familiar cold, towering shelves of the Oswin family library. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and the musky aroma of ancient tomes. Dim light filtered through narrow windows, casting long shadows over the spines of countless books—each one containing secrets I had barely begun to uncover.

I needed to move. Standing here, brooding, wouldn’t solve anything. The time for seeking answers was over; I had to prepare. But prepare for what, exactly?

A soft shuffle echoed through the room, a sound that wasn’t mine. My hand went instinctively to the small dagger at my side, the blade catching the dim light as I turned to confront whoever had intruded.

“You won’t need that,” a calm, firm voice said from the shadowy corner of the library.

A figure stepped forward, moving with deliberate grace between the shelves. She was tall, her dark cloak blending into the shadows, but I could still make out the sharpness in her gaze as she studied me. Her dark hair, neatly tied back, framed a serious face. There was no hostility in her stance, but something about her presence made the hairs on my neck stand up.

"Who are you?" I demanded, keeping the dagger in hand but lowering it slightly.

She stopped a few paces away, folding her arms across her chest as she regarded me coolly. “Lysandra. Cedric sent me.”

“Cedric?” I frowned, the name stirring a knot of unease in my chest. Cedric Oswin—my father. He hadn’t been at the estate for a while now, so why send someone like her now?

“Why now?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

“Because,” she replied, her voice calm but laced with an undeniable authority, “he knows exactly what you’ve been up to. The cult. The spatial magic. He’s aware of your little... experiments, and your trips to Harmony.”

I felt my breath hitch. I thought I’d been careful—keeping everything hidden, from the spatial rift I’d accidentally torn open in the jungle to my secret training sessions. But of course, Cedric would know. His reach extended far deeper than I’d imagined. He probably had knights or spies watching my every move, reporting back to him. Tch.

“And he sent you to what, spy on me?” My voice dripped with suspicion.

“To help you,” Lysandra corrected, her tone firm and unyielding. “Cedric assigned me as your mentor. The trial is approaching, and frankly, you’re not ready for it. The time has come for you to stop stumbling in the dark and start learning—properly.”

I stared at her, letting the weight of her words settle. She called my father by his first name, without a hint of deference. Few were allowed that luxury—Cedric was the Patriarch, respected and revered by everyone. Either she was someone incredibly close to him, or someone dangerously powerful.

“You’re here to help me with... the spatial magic?” I asked, still trying to process everything.

She nodded. “Among other things. Cedric sees great potential in you. You’ve unlocked something most people your age can’t even fathom, but without control, that kind of power will destroy you—or worse.”

I narrowed my eyes, the skepticism still strong. “So, you’re just here to teach me?” It was hard to keep the suspicion out of my voice.

“Teach, guide, prepare you for the trial,” she replied. “Cedric believes you have more potential than you realize, but you’re reckless. That needs to change.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “Reckless? I’ve been trying to figure things out—”

“And in doing so, you’ve almost torn yourself apart,” she cut in sharply, her gaze hardening. “Spatial magic isn’t a game. It’s not just bending space on a whim. The forces at play are far more complex than you realize. If you want to survive the trial and what comes after, you need control.”

Her words hit me like a hammer, the weight of them settling heavily in my chest. My father had always been an enigma, his intentions cloaked in layers of manipulation and secrecy. But if he had sent Lysandra, then it meant things were much more serious than I’d thought.

I glanced at her, still unsure. “Why now? Why not before?”

“Because now is when you’re running out of time,” she said simply. “The trial is approaching, and after the incident you had with the relic, we can't wait any longer. That can’t be undone, but whether you survive or not depends on what you do next. Cedric believes you can handle it—but only if you stop acting like you’re alone in this.”

I had been relying on myself for so long, keeping others at arm’s length, cause I had been skeptical of everything and everyone… it seemed like I had no other choice.

“Fine,” I said after a long pause. “What’s the first step?”

Lysandra’s lips twitched into the briefest hint of a smile. “Understanding the true nature of spatial magic and your connection to the Veil. You’ve only scratched the surface, and if you continue the way you are, it will tear you apart.”

She turned and gestured to the shelves surrounding us, the soft glow from the ancient lamps casting long shadows across the rows of books. The air smelled faintly of parchment and ink, the scent of knowledge long buried.

“This library holds more than dusty old histories and forgotten spells,” Lysandra said, her voice cutting through the silence with authority. "It contains the knowledge you need—if you know where to look."

I forced myself to follow her deeper into the labyrinth of books, trying to shake the growing unease gnawing at the back of my mind. The time for doubting was over. If I wanted to survive the Trial, I couldn’t keep pretending I could handle everything alone.

But something about this didn’t sit right. How the hell had I never known about this place? The deeper we ventured into the library, the more it felt like stepping into a secret world hidden right under my nose. And yet, I had lived my whole life in the Oswin estate, the son of the current head of the family. Why had Aric—I—been kept in the dark about this treasure trove of knowledge?

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

*Wait… why was Aric not knowledgeable and so weak to begin with?* The thought hit me like a punch. *I’ve been going along with the flow, assuming Aric’s weakness and ignorance were natural, but nothing about it adds up. Is it the voice again?*

I could still feel the presence of that cryptic figure in the back of my mind—the bright, blinding figure that had merged with my soul when Aric's had collapsed in the Void. That’s when it all changed. Had the voice been there even before I took over? Twisting his memories, making him more vulnerable? What if it had been influencing things all along, guiding Aric toward the prophecy? What even was the prophecy?

My mind raced as pieces of the puzzle started to connect in strange, unsettling ways. Aric's body, his memories, his inexplicable weakness—had it all been by design?

This is so messed up. The more I tried to make sense of it, the more tangled it became.

"Let’s begin." Lysandra's voice snapped me back to the present. I hadn’t even realized we had stopped moving. She stood beside a table at the center of the library, the glow of the lamps casting a golden halo around the ancient tomes piled on its surface.

Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of urgency. “You’ll need to understand just how much space can be warped—and how dangerous it becomes if you lose control.”

I glanced down at the books, their covers marked with symbols that hummed with power. The spines were cracked, the pages yellowed with age, and a faint, eerie energy seemed to seep from them. Ancient texts on spatial theory, magical fundamentals, and even the deeper mysteries of the relic. This wasn’t just about learning to control magic anymore. This was about survival. And Cedric had surely planned more than just a simple lesson on spatial manipulation.

Lysandra’s words washed over me as she launched into her explanation. Her tone was clear and methodical, as if she had repeated this lesson a hundred times, yet I couldn’t fully focus. My mind kept circling back to the pieces I was slowly uncovering. The feeling that something larger was at play—the voice, the relic, the strange manipulation of events that had led me to this moment.

I stared at the stack of books in front of me, their sheer weight oppressive. Each one represented a level of knowledge Aric should have already known. Why hadn’t he?

The sigils and glyphs etched onto the spines seemed to glow faintly, flickering in the dim light. They were unlike anything I had ever seen—arcane, mysterious, and foreboding. The deeper I stared, the more I could feel the pull of the unknown pressing down on me.

I could sense the tension in Lysandra's posture as she flipped open one of the tomes. The pages were thick with dense, cryptic diagrams and symbols that made my head spin. “Spatial magic is not just about warping distance,” she explained, her finger tracing the lines of a runic pattern. “It’s about understanding the space between things—the fabric that binds the Veil and the material world.”

I nodded, but a gnawing exhaustion started to creep in. My head felt heavy, clouded. The weight of everything was catching up to me—Aric’s fragmented memories, the impending Trial, the voice’s influence… It was too much.

I want to sleep.

But there was no time for that. I had to keep pushing forward. Cedric, Lysandra—they were counting on me to be ready.

“Focus,” Lysandra snapped, catching my wandering gaze. Her eyes bore into mine with a sharpness that reminded me of the stakes. “You lose focus here, and you’ll lose far more than control over magic. You’ll lose yourself.”

She turned back to the book, flipping to another page with a more complex diagram of spatial distortions. “The key,” she continued, “is precision. If you warp space without understanding the boundaries, the tear will pull everything into the void. Including you.”

I blinked, trying to absorb the information, but the swirling thoughts in my head wouldn’t stop. I glanced again at the books, the relic, the path I had been forced to walk.

Nothing was as it seemed.

"You can’t afford to be reckless with spatial magic," she said, opening the first tome, its pages fluttering like they carried secrets of their own. "The Veil is delicate. Disturb it too much, and the Wyrd will creep in."

Her eyes were sharp, cutting through the casual demeanor she wore.

She flipped to a diagram showing a complex rune. It detailed a sphere, lines crisscrossing its surface, creating layers upon layers of intricate symbols. "This," she tapped the page, "is the core of any spatial manipulation. You’ll need to carve this into your mind, feel it before you even attempt to cast. But remember, the moment you misstep, the moment your concentration falters—"

She didn’t finish, and I didn’t need her to. The consequences were already clear.

"Is this how the Oswins fought?" I asked, unable to contain the question. My curiosity had gotten the better of me. I’d spent so long hearing whispers about the family’s power but never had a clear understanding of what made them feared—until now.

Lysandra smiled, but it wasn’t a comforting one. "The Oswins didn’t just fight, Aric. We dominated." Her fingers traced the rune on the page. "Spatial manipulation is only the beginning. We wielded the Veil like an extension of ourselves, twisting it to our will, moving through battlefields like ghosts. But even we had to respect the Wyrd."

A chill ran through me at the mention of the Wyrd. It was one thing to read about it in texts and hear about it from others, but another to imagine its influence looming over everything I was about to learn.

Lysandra closed the book and met my gaze. "You’ll need to master this if you hope to pass the Trial of the Founder. But there’s more. You’ve inherited the Oswin name, Aric, and with that comes responsibility. Power isn’t just about survival—it’s about hierarchy, structure. The Oswins are not just one family but a pillar in a world where power must be earned and ranked."

She stepped away from the table, pulling down another book from the shelf, this one thinner but no less significant. "To understand your role, you need to know where you stand."

She opened the book to a page detailing ranks—both for magic users and those who mastered the blade. I couldn’t help but lean closer as I saw the titles listed: Initiate, Disciple, Warden… terms I was taught in passing but never truly grasped.

“Those who train in swordsmanship and weaponry follow a different path than the pure magic users,” Lysandra explained, her voice taking on a lecturing tone. “But both are deeply intertwined with the Veil. There are warriors who wield weapons but still touch the mana that flows between worlds.”

She tapped on a line in the text. Initiate (Ironbound). “This is where most begin their journey—strengthening their bodies, learning the basics. But as they progress, they become Disciples (Steelblades), and soon after, the ones with true potential rise to the rank of Warden (Veilstrider). These are no ordinary swordsmen. By this point, they’re manipulating the Veil itself, slipping through space, striking where they’re least expected.”

I let the words sink in. “So… the Veil isn’t just for magic?”

She shook her head. “No. The Oswin family has always understood that power comes in many forms. Some are born with an affinity for the arcane, others with the sword. But in our family, in the world of Aeloria, the greatest warriors are the ones who can master both.”

She turned another page, showing me the ranks of the hybrid warriors—the ones who blended magic and martial prowess. The title of Mageblade stood out, and my mind wandered to the future possibilities, of wielding not just power but something far greater—a combination of both. Though I had tried to infuse mana with my blade before, it didn't really go well. I need to learn how to control it better before I attempt it again.

Lysandra’s voice grew serious again. “You’ll need to find your path, Aric. You’re no ordinary Initiate. You’re a direct heir to the Oswin legacy, and that carries weight. You’re expected to rise faster than others, but you’ll also face greater challenges—especially in the Trial.”

...