When the last echoes of conversation faded from the dining hall, the vast chamber slowly returned to its usual quiet rhythm. Servants moved gracefully between the long tables, gathering silver plates and crystal goblets while the tall candles continued to burn with a steady golden glow. The scent of roasted meat and warm bread still lingered faintly in the air, though the warmth of the gathering itself had already begun to fade.
Lucian remained seated a moment longer than the others.
Across the table, the heavy doors through which Princess Valeria had departed stood closed once more, leaving only the distant sound of footsteps echoing somewhere in the corridors beyond. For a brief moment the young prince simply stared at the empty chair where his sister had been sitting, his pale gray eyes reflecting the trembling candlelight.
Then he stood.
Queen Seraphina was already waiting beside him.
"Come," she said softly.
Lucian gave a small nod and followed her from the hall.
The moment they stepped beyond the doors of the dining chamber, the warm glow of candlelight gave way to the cooler shadows of the palace corridors. Ravencrest Palace was vast even by royal standards, its endless halls lined with towering stone columns and ancient banners that told the history of the kingdom. Dark tapestries depicting old battles hung between tall arched windows, while rows of iron braziers burned quietly along the walls.
Their footsteps echoed faintly against the polished stone floor.
A familiar figure stepped forward from beside one of the pillars.
Lucian's personal butler.
Elias.
He was a tall, composed man whose calm expression rarely changed regardless of circumstance. His dark uniform was immaculate, the silver insignia of the Ravencrest household pinned neatly to his collar. Though still relatively young, there was something about Elias that gave the impression of quiet reliability—as though chaos itself might hesitate before disturbing the order he carried around him.
"Your Highness," he said with a respectful bow.
Lucian stretched his arms lazily as though the entire evening had been nothing more than a mildly inconvenient interruption.
"Elias," he replied lightly. "Tell me something."
"Yes, Your Highness."
"If a prince were to suddenly vanish from the palace," Lucian continued thoughtfully, "how long would it take before the guards began tearing the kingdom apart looking for him?"
Elias did not hesitate.
"They already did, Your Highness."
Lucian gave a faint laugh.
"Well… I suppose that answers that."
Queen Seraphina shook her head softly, though a small smile touched her lips despite herself.
They continued walking through the corridor until Lucian drifted toward a tall arched window overlooking the outer courtyards of the palace. From this height the southern training grounds stretched across a wide expanse of stone and packed earth, illuminated by rows of iron torches planted along the perimeter walls.
Dozens of soldiers trained below.
Even at this distance their movements were clear. Steel blades clashed beneath the dim evening sky, and the rhythmic sound of combat carried faintly upward toward the palace towers. Commanders shouted instructions as pairs of warriors circled one another across the training field, their armor glinting in the firelight like scattered sparks.
Lucian rested one hand against the cold stone frame of the window and watched them for a long moment.
"So serious," he murmured.
Elias stood quietly behind him.
"Strength is taken very seriously in Ravencrest, Your Highness."
Lucian's lips curved slightly.
"Yes… I've noticed."
Footsteps approached from the far end of the corridor.
Lucian did not need to turn to know who it was.
Princess Valeria stopped several paces behind him.
For a moment she simply watched her younger brother standing at the window, his pale hair catching the faint torchlight as he gazed down at the soldiers training below.
"You enjoy watching them," she said.
Lucian tilted his head slightly.
"It's interesting."
"They are working to become stronger."
"So it seems."
Valeria's voice hardened.
"Something you might consider trying."
Lucian turned slowly.
For a brief moment their eyes met.
She was taller than him now—nearly an adult woman, strong from years of training and discipline. Standing before her younger brother, she looked every bit the warrior her instructors claimed she would become.
Lucian, by contrast, appeared almost fragile.
A thin boy with pale hair and relaxed posture, dressed in dark noble clothing that seemed far too large for his slight frame.
Valeria's gaze sharpened.
"You think none of this matters."
Lucian shrugged lightly.
"I didn't say that."
"You act like it."
She stepped closer.
"Lucian… the nobles of this kingdom laugh at you."
He said nothing.
"They whisper behind your back."
Still he remained silent.
"They call you the weakest prince Ravencrest has ever produced."
The words hung between them like drawn steel.
Lucian's expression did not change.
"People say many things," he replied calmly.
Valeria's hand moved instinctively toward the sword at her waist, though she did not draw it.
"You have no magic."
"No training."
"No discipline."
"And yet you walk these halls as if the throne already belongs to you."
Lucian blinked slowly.
"Well… it is rather comfortable here."
Valeria stared at him in disbelief.
"Do not mistake my patience for tolerance, Lucian."
Her voice lowered.
"Ravencrest will not be ruled by weakness."
Lucian held her gaze for a moment longer.
Then he smiled.
"Noted."
Without another word, he turned and walked past her.
Valeria stood motionless for a few seconds before exhaling sharply in frustration.
"Unbelievable."
Further down the corridor, Queen Seraphina waited quietly.
When Lucian approached, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Lucian."
He looked up at her.
"There is something I wished to remind you about."
"Yes, Mother?"
"You have not visited Princess Astraea Valerius in quite some time."
Lucian blinked.
"Astraea…"
"The third princess of Verithelm," Seraphina said gently. "Your fiancée."
Lucian scratched the back of his head.
"Ah."
Seraphina watched him carefully.
"She asked about you during the last diplomatic gathering."
Lucian's smile returned.
"I'm sure she was terribly disappointed by my absence."
"You should visit her soon."
"Perhaps."
Lucian stepped back slightly.
"I was actually planning to spend some time in the library."
Seraphina studied him.
For a moment she seemed about to say something more.
But instead she simply nodded.
"Do not stay up too late."
Lucian bowed slightly.
"Of course, Mother."
He turned and walked away down the long corridor.
Seraphina remained where she stood, watching her son's retreating figure.
She knew.
Perhaps better than anyone else in the kingdom.
That behind that careless smile… her son was slowly breaking.
And he was trying to mend himself alone.
---
The royal library of Ravencrest lay deep within the inner halls of the palace, far from the noise of soldiers, courtiers, and servants. Few people visited this place unless summoned by duty or drawn by curiosity for knowledge. The thick stone walls muffled nearly every sound from the outside world, leaving the chamber wrapped in a heavy, almost sacred silence.
Lucian pushed the tall wooden doors open slowly.
The hinges groaned faintly as they moved, the sound stretching softly across the vast chamber beyond. Inside, the air carried the quiet scent of old parchment, aged leather, candle wax, and dust that had settled upon books untouched for decades.
The library was enormous.
Towering shelves of dark oak wood stretched upward toward the high vaulted ceiling, their surfaces lined with countless volumes gathered over centuries of Ravencrest rule. Ladders rested against the shelves, some left half-climbed where scholars had once reached for books far beyond arm's length. In several places, candles burned low upon iron stands, their small flames flickering gently and casting long wavering shadows that crawled across the stone walls.
Lucian stepped inside.
The door closed behind him with a dull, hollow thud.
For a moment he simply stood there.
His pale gray eyes moved slowly across the room, scanning the towering shelves filled with knowledge that seemed almost endless. The silence inside the chamber felt different from the silence of the palace halls. It was deeper… heavier… as though the countless words stored within these books were quietly watching him.
This place had become his refuge.
The only place in the palace where no one laughed.
Where no one whispered behind his back.
Where no one looked at him with disappointment.
Lucian walked slowly toward a familiar corner of the library, his footsteps echoing softly across the marble floor. The faint tapping of his shoes carried farther than expected in the empty hall, each step reminding him just how alone he was.
At the far end of the chamber stood a narrow wooden table surrounded by scattered stacks of books.
He had left them there days ago.
Lucian reached the table and gently placed his hand upon the top book.
For a moment he hesitated.
Then he pulled the chair back and sat down.
The chair creaked quietly beneath his small frame.
He opened the book.
The dry pages whispered as they turned beneath his fingers.
Symbols.
Ancient scripts.
Arcane diagrams drawn with careful precision.
Lucian leaned closer to the candlelight, his pale eyes moving quickly across each line of text. His mind worked rapidly, searching for patterns, meanings, connections—anything that might explain the strange power hidden within his blood.
Page after page passed.
He turned another.
And another.
The sound of rustling parchment slowly filled the quiet library.
At first his movements were calm and methodical, like a scholar patiently studying a difficult lesson. But gradually the pace quickened.
His fingers moved faster.
The pages flipped more sharply.
His breathing grew uneven.
Lucian grabbed another book from the pile.
This one was thicker, its cover worn from age. He opened it quickly, scanning the text as though the answers he needed might suddenly leap from the pages.
Nothing.
Only more diagrams.
More theories.
More explanations that seemed to apply to every mage in the world—
Except him.
Lucian's hands tightened around the edges of the book.
"…No."
He turned another page.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
The silence of the library pressed in around him.
Somewhere high above, one of the candles flickered as a faint draft of air slipped through the tall windows. The flame wavered, and the shadows cast by the towering bookshelves shifted slowly across the walls.
Lucian slammed the book shut.
The sound echoed across the chamber.
It bounced off the stone pillars, traveled across the vaulted ceiling, and returned to him moments later as a hollow reflection of his own frustration.
He grabbed another book.
Pages turned quickly now.
Too quickly.
The candlelight trembled as his shadow moved violently across the table.
"Why…"
His voice sounded small in the vast room.
Another page.
More symbols.
More explanations meant for mages who could actually feel magic flowing through their bodies.
Lucian's hands began to shake.
"Why can't I…?"
His voice cracked.
The book slipped from his fingers and struck the table with a dull thud.
Lucian grabbed the next one desperately, flipping through the pages as though the answer had to exist somewhere within the endless knowledge of the Ravencrest library.
Page after page flashed before his eyes.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
The frustration finally burst.
With a sudden movement he tore a page from the book.
The ripping sound tore through the quiet room like a blade.
Lucian froze.
The torn parchment trembled in his hands.
For a moment he simply stared at it.
Then another page ripped free.
And another.
The fragments fluttered downward slowly, landing across the marble floor like scattered feathers.
Lucian's shoulders trembled.
His breathing became uneven.
The silence of the library no longer felt peaceful.
It felt suffocating.
"Why can't I do it…"
His voice echoed faintly through the chamber.
Lucian slid down from the chair until he sat on the cold marble floor beside the table. His back pressed against the wooden leg of the desk as his head lowered, pale hair falling across his face.
The tears came before he could stop them.
Warm drops fell silently onto the scattered pages beneath him.
The prince of Ravencrest tried to wipe them away with the sleeve of his coat, but they kept coming.
"I'm trying…"
His voice shook as he whispered into the empty library.
"I really am…"
The words echoed softly across the towering shelves filled with knowledge he could not use.
His mind filled with memories.
The laughter of noble children during lessons.
The quiet whispers of servants who believed he could not hear them.
The powerless prince.
The useless heir.
Lucian's hands clenched tightly into fists.
"I'm not useless…"
But the words sounded weak even to him.
He tried to smile.
Tried to force the same careless grin he always wore in the halls of the palace.
But the tears continued to fall.
And in the vast silence of Ravencrest's ancient library, the sound of a young boy quietly crying echoed between the towering shelves—carried through the room like a fragile secret the world was never meant to hear.