The Forsaken Heir

Lorian's heart was still racing when a hand shook his shoulder, pulling him from the remnants of his unsettling dream.

"Lorian, your turn on watch."

His eyes fluttered open, and the dim light of the campfire greeted him, casting long shadows across the tents. Ren crouched beside him, looking tired but still alert enough. The warmth from the fire did little to chase away the chill that clung to Lorian's bones after the dream.

"Alright, I'm up," Lorian muttered, pushing himself into a sitting position and rubbing his face with both hands. He felt groggy, the woman's voice from his dream still echoing in his mind. I will find you... Her words lingered, but Lorian shook them off as best he could. He had a job to do.

Ren nodded before standing up. "Quiet night so far. Nothing much to report," he said with a yawn. "Enjoy the peace while it lasts."

"Yeah," Lorian replied, though he wasn't so sure peace would last long.

As Ren made his way back to his tent, Lorian stretched his stiff muscles, still aching from the day's work. He grabbed his cloak and settled on a log near the campfire, its soft crackling filling the otherwise still night. The ruins loomed ahead, ominous and silent, their jagged edges casting eerie shadows in the firelight.

A soft rustle behind him caught his attention. Lorian turned to see Nia approaching. Her bright red hair, striking even in the dim light, caught the flicker of the fire as she wrapped her cloak tightly around her. She offered a tentative smile as she sat down on the log beside him, just out of arm's reach, as if unsure of the distance between them.

"Can't sleep?" Lorian asked, his tone neutral but curious.

Nia shook her head, her red hair falling over one shoulder. "Too quiet," she admitted. "Figured I'd keep you company... if you don't mind."

Lorian glanced at her, surprised by her offer. He hadn't interacted much with the squad yet, and Nia, like the others, was still largely a stranger to him. "Sure," he said after a beat, turning his gaze back to the fire. "I don't mind."

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Nia seemed content to let the quiet hang for a while, her eyes focused on the flames. After a few moments, though, her curiosity seemed to get the better of her.

"I heard about your fight with the second years," she said, her tone casual but probing. "Three of them, right?"

Lorian smirked faintly, though the memory of the battle made his back twinge. "Yeah, three. It wasn't exactly a fair fight."

Nia tilted her head, a slight grin forming on her lips. "That's what I heard. Rumor has it you handled them pretty easily—like it was no contest."

Lorian chuckled softly, though there was a modest shake of his head. "I wouldn't say easily, especially the slash to my back from one of their swords." Lorian paused in thought for a moment. "Could've been worse."

Nia's expression shifted, her eyes flicking to the spot where the wound had been. "A slash across your back?" She hesitated, then asked, "How's it holding up?"

"I'll live," Lorian replied, absently rubbing his shoulder where the injury had been. "It wasn't as bad as it could've been. I got patched up quickly."

Nia gave a small nod, though her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before turning back to the fire. "Well, still impressive," she said. "Not many first years would take on three second years and walk away with just a slash."

Lorian didn't respond immediately, unsure what to make of the comment. He wasn't used to hearing admiration from his squadmates—especially people he barely knew. It felt... strange, almost uncomfortable.

The fire crackled between them, and Nia shifted on the log, pulling her cloak tighter against the cold. After a pause, she spoke again, this time with a hint of curiosity she couldn't quite mask.

"Are you going to compete in the Grand Melee?" she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Lorian raised an eyebrow. "The Grand Melee? That's still a month away."

"I know," Nia said, her tone light but persistent. "But everyone's wondering. You've already made a name for yourself... well, rumors are spreading anyway. People want to know if you'll be part of it."

Lorian hesitated, mulling over her words. He hadn't given the Grand Melee much thought yet—too many things had been weighing on him lately. His father's constant disappointment, the ever-looming shadow of his sister's success, and now this strange dream that left him feeling... unsettled.

"I'm not sure yet," he admitted finally. "A lot can happen in a month."

Nia seemed to study him for a moment before nodding. "True. But... if you did compete, I think you'd have a good shot. You've already shown what you're capable of."

Lorian gave her a sidelong glance, surprised by the quiet confidence in her voice. "You barely know me."

"Maybe," she admitted with a small shrug, "but I've heard enough. And I've seen enough. You're strong, Lorian."

Her words caught him off guard, but before he could respond, Nia shifted again, clearly not ready to leave the conversation on that note.

"So... you and Selene?" she asked, her tone more casual now, though Lorian detected a hint of curiosity—and something else—beneath the question.

Lorian blinked. "Selene?"

Nia nodded, her expression remaining neutral, but her eyes watched him closely. "Yeah, you know... people are talking. Wondering if you two are... a thing."

Lorian felt heat rise to his face, not from the fire but from the sudden turn in the conversation. "Selene and I? No, we're just... training partners. Friends."

"Oh." Nia's voice was light, but there was a subtle shift in her posture—an easing of tension in her shoulders. "Good to know. People talk, that's all. Figured I'd ask."

Lorian rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling the awkward weight of the question. He hadn't realized that anyone was paying attention to his interactions with Selene, let alone speculating about them. Then again, rumors had a way of spreading quickly at the academy.

Nia glanced away, her red hair catching the firelight as it moved. "It's funny, you know," she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. "We've only been in the same squad a few days, but it feels like I've heard a lot about you already."

Lorian chuckled softly, though there was a hint of discomfort in it. "Yeah? What have you heard?"

Nia smirked, meeting his eyes briefly. "Just that you're dangerous. Good with a sword. Strong. That kind of thing. The usual whispers."

Lorian nodded, not entirely sure what to make of the image people had of him. "Well, it's not all true," he said, trying to downplay the reputation. "I'm still figuring things out, like everyone else."

Nia's eyes softened, and she gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Maybe. But I think you're doing better than most. You'll figure it out."

Lorian looked at her, really looked at her, and realized she was being genuine. It was strange, this mix of distance and warmth between them. He didn't know Nia well, but there was a quiet steadiness about her that felt... different from the others.

"I appreciate that," he said, his voice quieter than before.

Nia smiled again, this time a little brighter. "We're all in this together, right? Watch each other's backs."

"Yeah," Lorian agreed, though he knew that sentiment hadn't quite settled in for him yet. Maybe in time.

The fire crackled softly between them as silence stretched. The flames danced in Nia’s eyes, casting a soft glow over her features. After a few moments, she shifted closer, her knee brushing against Lorian’s. Her gaze flickered down toward his hand, resting on his knee, and then, with a quiet breath, she reached out and placed her hand over his.

The contact was warm, but it sent a jolt of tension through Lorian. Nia’s touch was tentative, but the intention behind it was clear. For a moment, they both sat there, frozen, the weight of the gesture hanging in the air between them.

Lorian’s pulse quickened. He hadn’t expected this, not from Nia, not tonight. The sudden closeness, the softness of her touch—it felt... wrong somehow. His mind, already tangled from the remnants of the dream, grew even more restless.

He stood abruptly, the sudden movement startling them both.

"I should check the perimeter," Lorian said, his voice sharper than he intended, already pulling his hand away. He wrapped his cloak around himself, avoiding her gaze.

Nia blinked, her face a mix of surprise and embarrassment as she quickly retracted her hand. “Oh... right, yeah,” she mumbled, looking away toward the fire. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s fine,” Lorian interrupted, his heart still racing. “Just... need to make sure everything’s clear. I’ll be back soon.”

Nia gave a quick nod, clearly flustered. “Alright. Be careful.”

Lorian turned away quickly, moving out of the fire’s warm glow and into the shadows beyond. His heart was pounding faster now, not from the cold but from the strange sensation pulling at him. He wasn’t patrolling, not really. He was following the voice—the one from his dream, the one that still echoed in his thoughts, beckoning him toward the ruins.

He kept his steps light and purposeful as he moved further from the camp, keeping to the edges of the shadows where the firelight couldn’t reach. The ruins weren’t far, but the guards stationed along the perimeter would be more than enough to stop him if they caught him sneaking off.

Lorian paused behind a large tree, taking a moment to assess the situation. Two guards patrolled the outer edge of the ruins, their movements slow but deliberate. They had been placed to ensure no one wandered too far from camp, especially near the ruins, which had been deemed too dangerous for unsupervised exploration. Lorian’s mind raced as he watched them from a distance. He couldn’t afford to draw attention to himself, but there were ways around this if he kept his wits about him.

Stay calm, think it through.

He crouched low and surveyed the landscape. The patrols followed a predictable pattern, walking a wide circle around the perimeter of the ruins. One guard moved north, while the other headed west, each disappearing briefly from sight as they rounded large rock formations and thick patches of trees. Lorian’s eyes flicked to the ruins. He had a window—a small one—but it was enough.

He waited until both guards turned their backs, then darted forward, keeping his body low to the ground as he slipped between the rocks and trees. His movements were quiet, every step calculated. He pressed himself against a large boulder, his breath steady and slow. His mind raced through potential risks—missteps, sounds, or the timing of the patrols—cataloging each detail to minimize any mistake.

As he peeked around the boulder, Lorian saw one of the guards moving closer to his position. The man’s boots crunched over the dirt and gravel as he neared. Lorian’s muscles tensed, but he remained perfectly still, pressing himself against the cold stone, blending into the shadows. The guard walked right past him, oblivious to his presence. Lorian allowed himself a shallow breath, but he didn’t move. Not yet.

He watched carefully as the second guard continued his patrol on the far side. If his timing was off by even a second, they’d spot him as soon as he made his move.

Lorian’s eyes flicked to a narrow path between the rocks ahead, just wide enough for him to slip through without being seen. It was risky—he’d have to pass dangerously close to the guard on the return route—but it was his best option. He crouched low, waited for the guard to pass again, and then swiftly slipped through the gap.

The rocks provided just enough cover. He moved quietly, staying close to the natural barriers, careful to avoid making noise that would draw attention. His brain worked like a finely-tuned machine, mapping out every step, every movement, running through his options like pieces on a chessboard.

He was close now. The entrance to the ruins loomed just ahead, a dark shadow against the moonlit sky. But there was one last obstacle.

Lorian spotted a third guard near the entrance, standing at attention with his back to the ruins, his gaze sweeping the perimeter. He was alert—more so than the other two—and positioned in a way that would make it difficult to slip past without being seen.

Lorian scanned the area, searching for anything he could use. His eyes landed on a cluster of small rocks near the edge of the ruins, just out of the guard’s line of sight. If he could create a distraction, something subtle but effective, he might be able to slip past while the guard’s attention was elsewhere.

He crouched low, carefully picking up a small stone. Weighing it in his hand, he aimed for a spot just beyond the guard’s position—far enough to make him curious, but not so far that it would seem unnatural. With a quick flick of his wrist, Lorian sent the stone tumbling across the ground, where it landed with a soft clatter.

The guard tensed, his head snapping toward the sound.

Lorian held his breath, waiting.

The guard moved cautiously toward the source of the noise, his sword drawn, his steps deliberate. He left the entrance unguarded for just a moment, but that was all Lorian needed. As soon as the guard turned his back, Lorian darted forward, slipping into the shadows of the ruins before the man could realize what had happened.

He crouched low, his heart racing, but the guard didn’t notice. Satisfied that the sound had been nothing more than an animal or a loose rock, the man returned to his post, none the wiser.

Lorian exhaled softly, his pulse still quick but his focus sharpened. He was inside the ruins now, hidden from view. The orb room was close. The pull was stronger here, as if the shadows themselves were guiding him.

He moved quickly but quietly, navigating through the narrow pathways of the ruins. His mind buzzed with the memory of the dream, the woman’s voice urging him forward, deeper into the ancient structure.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of sneaking through the maze of stone and shadow, Lorian arrived at the entrance to the orb room. The air was heavy here, thick with the same strange energy he had felt in his dream. The walls seemed to hum with it, and the shadows danced unnaturally around the edges of the chamber.

Lorian’s heart pounded as he stepped into the room.

There, in the center, was the orb.

It sat atop a cracked marble pedestal, its surface swirling with dark, ominous energy. The air around it was still, yet charged, like the calm before a storm. Lorian’s breath hitched as he approached, his body moving on instinct, his mind already consumed by the pull of the orb.

The room felt both impossibly large and claustrophobic at the same time, the shadows pressing in around him as he stood before the orb. His hand trembled as he reached out, the cold air biting at his skin. The swirling darkness within the orb seemed to respond to him, the shadows inside growing more frenzied as his fingers hovered just above its surface.

Free me...

The voice was louder now, more urgent, wrapping around his mind like a vice. Lorian’s hand twitched, his thoughts torn between the promise of power and the warning in the back of his mind.

But in that moment, he gave in.

His fingers brushed the smooth, cold surface of the orb, and the world around him shattered.

Lorian felt his mind being sucked into the orb, pulled into the swirling void within. His body went weightless, the physical world disappearing in an instant, replaced by an endless expanse of darkness. He was floating, suspended in the void, with no ground beneath him, no air around him—just darkness, stretching out in every direction.

Panic surged through him, but he couldn’t move. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. He was trapped, his consciousness spiraling deeper into the abyss.

And then, he heard the voice.

Welcome, Lorian...