The Feast Hall had never felt so crowded, yet I was drowning in silence. The hum of conversation and the clatter of plates were nothing more than a distant echo as I picked absently at the crust of my bread. My mind was elsewhere, replaying the wand selection over and over. The feel of the cracked Elyndra’s wand, its texture charred and brittle under my fingers. The surge of power, raw and unrefined, coursing through me. The bolt of red lightning that left fractures in the wand, fractures in the very stone floor of the halls.

  And Professor Selvar’s words still lingered with me. ‘You can’t be human.’

  I clenched my jaw, shoving the thought aside. It didn’t matter. I knew what I was. Human? No. Not entirely.

  The bread in my hand crumbled as Rowan’s voice cut through the haze. “What do you plan to do? Should we go with the others to test the wand? You know… cast some spells on those dummies in training grounds.”

  I blinked, grounding myself back to the present. Rowan was leaning forward, his brown eyes still gleaming with excitement from earlier, the ashwood wand resting casually on his knee. He couldn’t stop fiddling with it, like a child with a new toy.

  Before I could answer, Alina spoke up from across the table, her hazel eyes sharp and knowing. “You should come. That wand of yours will need testing if you plan to learn anything.”

  I glanced at her, holding back a sardonic chuckle. “Testing it? I’d rather not break it before Professor Eris gets a chance to make me a proper one. This one’s already hanging by a thread.”

  She giggled, but her gaze lingered, curious and probing. “I’m still curious… What type of magic is this much… wild?”

  I met her gaze, unblinking. “Mine.”

  Lyssa chimed in before Alina could press further, her voice calm but carrying the weight of experience. “He’s right. Magic is different for everyone. There’s no single path. Just look at elven magic—it’s more powerful than most others by nature. Then there’s bloodlines like Valen’s, with ties to the old blood of ancient beasts. That power doesn’t just vanish, no matter how diluted over centuries.”

  Her words carried a weight that silenced even Rowan for a moment.

  Sera, who had been quietly listening, tilted her head slightly, her silver hair catching the candlelight. “Speaking of him, where is he?”

  Rowan leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “He skipped lunch. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

  Lucas snorted from the other end of the table, his emerald eyes gleaming with that familiar disdain. “His pride’s hurt. That’s what.”

  Lyssa frowned at him. “We all have burdens to carry, Lucas. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

  Rowan nodded, though his tone was less serious as he quipped, “Don’t know about Lucas, but I’m definitely carrying mine. A lot lighter than his though.”

  “Shut up, peasant,” Lucas snapped, his sharp tone cutting through Rowan’s grin. He straightened, his expression unusually serious. “He’s different from us. His house is on the brink of extinction. If he doesn’t become stronger and make a name for himself, the Leonhart name will vanish entirely. With what little voice his grandfather had left in the council is already gone. They’re nobles only in name now, kept afloat by the goodwill of a few old families.”

  The bread in my hand turned to dust. My fingers tightened until the knuckles ached. My grandfather. That was my grandfather, too. Edwinn Leonhart, whose name Lucas had just thrown to the floor like dirt.

  I worked hard to sound surprised, though my voice came out strained. “How can that happen? The Leonharts are one of the oldest houses.”

  Lucas raised a brow, not catching the anger in my voice. “There are rumors the High King is on his deathbed. The council is already sharpening their knives for the inheritance. The factions are fracturing. House Valar has the power to seize control—they’ve aligned with the second prince, and everyone knows the Valars have hated the Leonharts for generations. This isn’t just politics. This is survival.”

  Lyssa added in a hushed voice, almost a whisper, “The High King’s sacred eyes—golden, like the gods’. Only his third son has inherited them, but he’s just a boy. Seven years old. The rest of the council won’t wait for him to grow up. They’ll tear the realm apart before they let a child sit in the seat of the High King. There may not be an empire that binds them, but the alliance will break, and the Council will fall if it ever happened.”

  Lucas nodded grimly. “And Valen? He’s just a name to them. The old enemies will use this chaos to crush what’s left of his family’s name.”

  I stared at the table, every muscle in my body tense. The faint hum of conversation around us, the scrape of plates, the laughter at other tables—it all blurred together, muffled and distant. For Valen, this wasn’t just about pride or power. It was survival. And yet, he’d been carrying it alone.

  The table fell into silence after that, everyone lost in their thoughts. Even Rowan had nothing to say.

  After finishing our meal, Alina, Lyssa, and the others decided to head to the outer fields to test their wands. Rowan tugged on my sleeve, practically begging me to join. “Come on. You don’t have to cast anything. Just watch.”

  But I shook my head. “Not today. There’s something I need to take care of.”

  Rowan hesitated, his brow furrowing. Then his expression softened, and he nodded. He knew exactly what I was planning. “Don’t go too hard on him. He’s already had a rough day.”

  I smirked faintly, though the tension in my chest didn’t ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The group left without me, their voices fading as they moved toward the fields. I sat there for a moment longer, staring at the empty table.

  Valen’s words from yesterday echoed in my head. ‘You’re a bastard.’

  He’d looked at me like a stranger. Like a betrayal.

  I stood, pushing the bench back. My feet carried me toward the dormitory, the halls quieter now that most students were out enjoying the midday sun. The torches lining the walls flickered softly, casting long shadows that danced against the stone.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Valen was somewhere in that dorm, probably nursing his pride—or his scar. Either way, it was time we talked. It wasn’t just for him anymore. It was for me too. For family. Old and the new.

  The dorm was quieter than usual, its stone walls holding an unnatural stillness that made my footsteps echo louder than they should have. The common room, usually bustling with students in crimson robes playing chess or talking over books, was sparsely occupied. A pair of students whispered from a couch near the hearth, a girl's laughter muffled as she sat curled up on the lap of her man. I turned away before they could notice me staring and took the stairs leading to the dorm room.

  The room was empty. Rowan’s bed was neatly made for once. The window in the front was open, the curtains swaying gently in the cool breeze that carried the faint scent of salt and wildflowers. I moved to close it, pausing when my gaze fell beyond the ledge.

  From the vantage of the dorm window, The Silent Forest stretched like a deep, unending shadow to the north. Alina had spoken of it once, its name shrouded in mystery, its depths rumored to be haunted. Tall, dense pines rose like soldiers standing at attention, their tips brushing against the pale afternoon sky. Beyond the trees, I could see the faint shimmer of the sea, its waves cresting like distant whispers.

  But it wasn’t the sea or the forest that caught my attention. It was him.

  Far below, on the open field near the forest’s edge, a figure stood alone amidst the overgrown grass and scattered wildflowers. Valen. His ember-red hair was unmistakable, catching the sunlight like a dying flame. He moved in sharp, deliberate motions, casting spells against a massive boulder that bore scorch marks and cracks from repeated hits. His wand glinted faintly as he whipped it through the air, releasing bursts of energy with each flick.

  Even from here, I could see the frustration in his movements, the anger that turned his casting into reckless explosions. Each spell seemed more volatile than the last, each impact less controlled. He wasn’t practicing. He was fighting something invisible.

  I sighed, closing the window softly, though the image of him remained etched in my mind. Crossing the room, I crouched by my bed, pulling my suitcase from beneath it. Digging through its contents, I found what I was looking for; a package wrapped tightly in linen, its weight heavier than it looked.

  I left the dormitory with the package in hand, descending into the backyard. The path was quieter still, the air cool and crisp, carrying the faint hum of distant waves. The backyard was simple yet beautiful, lined with polished stone paths and trimmed grass that stretched into the wild, unkempt field beyond. Pillars stood at intervals, their weathered surfaces a reminder of the school’s ancient roots.

  I followed the stone path toward the field, where Valen’s spellcasting had grown louder. The sound of magic tearing through the air, followed by sharp impacts, broke the tranquil stillness of the area. As I drew closer, the terrain shifted. The manicured backyard gave way to uneven, overgrown grass, dotted with wildflowers and patches of thorny shrubs. The downhill slope made it harder to walk, but I pressed on, the salty tang of the sea stronger here.

  The boulder stood like a sentinel in the middle of the field, its surface charred and cracked. Valen stood a few paces away, his wand raised, his breathing labored. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his hair dishevelled from the exertion. His magic was weak and lacked control. Each spell seemed to carry the weight of his frustration, and his footing was uneven, like he was too angry to care.

  I stopped a few feet away, crossing my arms and tucking the package inside my robes. “You’ll break it.”

  Valen turned sharply, mid-spell, and the burst of energy shot wide, missing me by a few feet before dissipating into the air. His blue eyes narrowed when they landed on me, his expression twisting into one of disgust. “Why are you here?”

  I raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. “Thought I’d give you some company. After all, we’re the only ‘failures.’”

  His laugh was bitter, cutting through the tension in the air like a blade. “You? A failure? Every wand in that hall hummed for you. But look at me.” He gestured to his hand, where the plain black wand rested. “I’m the real failure here.”

  I stepped closer, watching him carefully. “My mother was called a failure by everyone. Being her son makes me one too. Oh, and let’s not forget, a bastard.” I let the word hang in the air, sharp and cold.

  Valen froze, his hand lowering slightly. For the first time, his voice wavered. “She wasn’t a failure. She was… strong. The world didn’t know her.”

  “Then why do you listen to it?” I snapped. “Calling me a bastard, calling her a failure. My mother loved one man in her life. They married in secret. Even grandfather knew about it. Didn’t he tell you that?”

  His voice cracked. “He… He always spoke of her. More than my father, even. It was as if she was the only child he ever had. There was never hate in his words, only love.”

  “You feel left out,” I said quietly, stepping closer still.

  He flinched, his guard lowering further. “Sometimes, yes. But I never lingered on it. Seeing him happy when he spoke of her… It made me happy.”

  There was something raw in his voice, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before. It was the first crack in the wall he’d built around himself.

  “How is he?” I asked, my tone softer now. “How is Grandfather?”

  Valen’s shoulders slumped. His voice was barely a whisper. “He’s dying, Einar. These last few years have been hell for our house. The markets are gone, the city is emptying, and those who remain are barely holding on. High taxes. Even the council has long abandoned us. The day I left, he was in bed. He’s getting old, and I’m afraid…” His voice broke, and he faltered, reaching for support.

  I caught him before he stumbled, steadying him as he wiped at his face. His breathing was ragged, his tears hot against the cool air. “You’ve been carrying all this alone,” I said quietly. “Valen, you’re strong. Far stronger than me.”

  He chuckled bitterly, though his voice shook. “Strong? You’re the monster here, Einar.”

  I smirked faintly. “You saw it in the Wand Hall, didn’t you? I’m not human, Valen. I would never be able to embrace my lineage. But I’ll tell you this: Leonharts will not vanish. You’ll carry their legacy forward.”

  I stepped back and pulled the package from my robes, unwrapping it carefully. The wand inside gleamed faintly, its rough firewood and carved with three runes in the middle, tells a story of sorcerer who wielded it.

  Valen’s eyes widened. “That’s firewood… My father’s wand was like that, but it’s broken. Just a memento now.”

  “This was my mother’s,” I said, holding it out to him. “You’ll need it more than me. Something tells me it’ll be compatible with you.”

  He hesitated before taking it, his fingers tracing over the runes. “It’s… incredible. These runes…”

  “Try it,” I said, stepping back.

  He turned toward the boulder, raising the wand with newfound precision. His voice was steady as he cast, “Vistros.”

  The energy shot from the wand was orange, streaking through the air like a comet. It hit the boulder dead center, leaving a blackened scorch mark. The power was controlled and refined.

  He turned back to me, a small smile breaking through the doubt on his face. “It feels… perfect. Like everything else I’ve held was dull in comparison.”

  “It’s yours now,” I said simply.

  Valen’s eyes softened, his voice almost breaking again. “Why give this to me? You could’ve kept it as a memento.”

  I stared out at the sea, my voice distant. “I thought of giving it to my sister… But it felt like it should be yours.”

  Valen froze. “You have a sister? Where is she?”

  I clenched my jaw, the weight of the memories pressing down on me. “Her name is Alira. I don’t know where she is. The bastards who killed my mother took her. But I swear…” My voice dropped, colder than the wind. “I’ll find her. Even if I have to become a monster to do it.”