2025-02-04 17:09:41"I’ll make sure you, Actavio, and that wretched mother of yours end up as beggars."
I don’t pretend his words don’t hurt. They slice through me, sharp and direct. But I hold my smile. “It wasn’t my mother who abandoned her family for a Grand Duke, Zenthio,” I say. “She stayed in this house for years—to care for us. To care for you.” I see the way my words hit Zenthio and his siblings. I know I’ve gone too far—it’s not their fault. Guilt crawls up my spine, but I push it down. Because every time Zenthio or Demario insults my mother, I feel the same sting. And as always, he doesn’t even flinch. Zenthio lets out a dry laugh. “Care for me? And what exactly can a mortal like your mother do, Helio? Sweep the floors? Scrub the halls?” "Everything alright?" Bernard’s voice cuts in, sudden and unwelcome. I pray he hasn’t been listening, but the moment he speaks again, my hope crumbles. “Helio, can we talk later?” ⚔️ I always hate the way Bernard closes the library doors before one of our serious talks. I hate the way he sighs—heavy, sympathetic. "Helio—" "Stop," I say before he can continue. "I don’t know what you saw or heard in the study, but it’s not as black and white as you think. Zenthio was wrong, but so was I. So don’t take my side just because I’m blind. I don’t need your pity." The silence stretches between us. The night air drifts through the window, making the curtains rustle. The scent of old books lingers—books I will never read. Then Bernard exhales, deep and disappointed. "I knew you’d say that," he mutters. “But this isn’t about Zenthio. It’s about… university. Zenthio will be the next Marquess. Demario is headed for the battlefield with his sword magic. But what about you? I see something in you, Helio. The way you see things differently, the way you remember and strategize—like when you beat me at Triarcane chess last week. Have you ever considered studying strategy and warfare?" I blink. Not what I expected. "Bernard. University? There are so many fields—medicine, education, and countless others. Why would I choose Strategy and Warfare? Medicine in Varidianth is advanced. Strategy and Warfare is outdated, brutal, and—" "Which is exactly why you belong there, Helio," Bernard says, unwavering. "Because you believe it can change. And as the son of Marquess Alessio, your mind will be invaluable to this kingdom." "Wow, I… I don’t know what to say," I murmur, pressing my lips together to keep the disappointment from showing. "You know I hate war, Bernard. If I could change one thing, it would be this—I’d get rid of war entirely. But whatever. This conversation is over. I need to rest. Goodnight, Bernard." I grip my white cane and make my way down the corridor toward my bedroom in the western wing. But as I pass my father’s study, his voice calls out. "Helio? Is that you? Can we talk for a moment?" I hum in acknowledgment, though my body aches with exhaustion. I step inside, lowering myself onto one of the sofas. "What is it, Father?" His footsteps move closer. Then he kneels in front of me. I can feel his unease. "Just tell me," I say. "I’m listening." A pause. Then, finally— "I didn’t mean to be harsh with you earlier, Helio," he says. "And… the King has issued a decree. Our kingdom is going to war against Zyronox. Which means… I won’t be here tomorrow morning. I leave before dawn." I tighten my grip on the sofa’s fabric. My throat closes up. My chest aches. "You’re going to war? Why?" I ask. "We have an army, weapons, everything. War isn’t safe for mages like us, Father." "Helio," he says, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "Mage or not, everyone has battles to face. As a noble of Varidianth, it’s my duty to lead. I only hope that one day, you’ll be ready too." I shake my head. I can’t picture what this war will be like, but the thought of losing him—losing anyone—twists my stomach. "I have one request," he says, quieter now. "Would you do something for me?" "Anything, Father," I promise. He exhales, full of hope. "Then keep our family safe while I’m gone. I trust you can do that." ⚔️ A summer storm rolls in out of nowhere. It feels like a bad omen. It’s been half an hour since Father’s carriage left. I grip the hilt of my dagger, trying to steady my nerves. Something in my blood tells me to be cautious. But it’s probably just my anxiety. Just because my mother is a Seer’s descendant doesn’t mean I inherited her gift. I take a breath and let it out slowly. The world sharpens. The rain pattered against the window. The wind slipped through the vents. Actavio giggled, playing with his doll. My mother sang, her voice a lullaby in the dark. Then— A door slams. From the front of the house. The main door. I jolt, reaching for my white cane. For a second, I think maybe Father forgot something and came back. But there are no horses. No rushed footsteps. No familiar presence. I step into the corridor. The scent of rain and damp earth lingers. And then— "What do you mean they failed?" Zenthio’s voice. Sharp, angry. "My Lord, forgive me," another voice answers. I freeze. Bernard. What is he doing here at this hour? "It’s not easy to catch an Illusionist. I’m certain His Lordship already suspects the ambush." My heart stumbles. Are they talking about my father? An ambush? "You idiot! I don’t care how you do it. By sunrise, I want his corpse in this house. Do you understand? If not, it’ll be your body in the coffin instead, Bernard!" No. No, this isn’t real. My own brother—plotting with Bernard to kill our father? "Well, My Lord," Bernard clears his throat. "I know an Illusionist far stronger than he is. Killing another Illusionist would be child’s play for him. The only issue? He doesn’t work for money." "Then what does he work for?" "Power," Bernard says smoothly. "They call him Nyx, My Lord. He has resided in the palace for many years, a pet to the Queen. As you know, the Queen has no noble blood. But that is the nature of this creature. He bows only to those with an unyielding thirst for power. I’ve heard he has no fondness for the Young Prince—he doubts the Prince will ever become a worthy heir to the throne," Bernard explains. "But if you can prove to him that you will become a great ruler, he will follow you, My Lord." Nyx. A sorcerer in the form of a hound, infamous for hunting down and killing anyone who dares betray his master. I had always thought such stories were mere myths. I never imagined them to be true. Zenthio chuckles darkly. "So, you're saying that if I crave power more than I do now, this creature will follow me?" he asks, his voice low and calculating. "Exactly, My Lord." "Very well. If that’s the case, I will seek him out tomorrow." I can’t let that happen. I have to warn Father. I quickly turn around and walk briskly down the hallway. I’m sure I’m almost at my room when someone suddenly grabs my shoulder. “You think you can just walk away after hearing our conversation, Helio?” Demario asks. His voice is heavy and dangerous.
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Pain blossoms across my jaw before I even register the movement. The impact snaps my head to the side, my ears ringing, the taste of iron blooming across my tongue. I stagger but do not fall. My grip tightens around my cane, steadying myself. My breath hitches for a moment before evening out, but the pain lingers—a dull, throbbing ache where Hale’s fist connected. He hit me. Hale hit me. I exhale slowly, tilting my head back toward him. “Are you finished?” My voice is level, but there is a coldness beneath it. Hale stands rigid, his chest rising and falling sharply. His fist is still clenched, his knuckles white. His entire body is wound tight, as if he’s barely holding himself together. “No,” he growls. “Not even close.” I swipe my thumb against my lip, smearing the blood there. “So that’s how we’re handling disagreements now?” Hale scoffs, his face twisted in frustration. “I don’t know how else to get through to you.” He takes a step forward, his eyes burning. “You weren’t liste