The Forsaken Heir

The academy courtyard bustled with activity as cadets went about their routines. Groups of students gathered in tight clusters, discussing upcoming assignments or lingering rumors, while others hurried to training sessions or classes. Lorian walked through the familiar grounds, his mind distant from the busy energy around him.

His return from the expedition had been a whirlwind—researchers and soldiers had dispersed back to their posts as soon as they entered the capital, leaving the cadets to make their way to the academy. Now, standing amidst the chaos of everyday life, Lorian couldn't shake the feeling that something had fundamentally shifted in him.

The truth was, something had. Ever since Lysara had revealed the existence of the seal that had been placed on him since birth, nothing felt the same. He wasn't the same. The power he now wielded, the raw potential he could finally tap into, was exhilarating, but the bitter taste of resentment still lingered.

His parents—his father especially—had done this to him. They'd sealed him, limiting him from the start, forcing him to struggle while harboring expectations he was never allowed to meet. The more he thought about it, the more the resentment burned inside him. How could they have had any expectations for me, he thought bitterly, when they were the ones who handicapped me?

For years, he'd believed he wasn't strong enough. For years, he'd tried to live up to expectations that had been impossible to meet, not because of his lack of effort, but because his own parents had shackled him. Now, with the seal gone, he could finally see just how much had been taken from him.

Lorian clenched his fists as he walked, pushing the thoughts away. There was no point in dwelling on it now. He had more pressing matters to focus on—like mastering the power now at his fingertips. The shadow and light magic coursed through him, more natural than ever, and he was eager to push those boundaries further.

"Lorian!"

The familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts, and Lorian glanced up to see Aric striding towards him, a teasing grin already forming on his face.

"Well, well," Aric said, clapping Lorian on the shoulder. "Back at the academy and already brooding, huh? You've got to lighten up, kid. Or what, are you still thinking about that little trip into the restricted area?"

Lorian stiffened slightly at the mention, but quickly forced a grin, trying to keep things light. "I wasn't sneaking around, if that's what you're implying."

"Oh, sure, sure," Aric teased, his voice full of mock seriousness. "Because, you know, wandering into restricted areas is something we all do when we're bored." His smile faded slightly, his tone growing a bit more curious. "So, you never did tell me—what were you doing in there? Did you touch the orb?"

Lorian's heart skipped a beat at the question. He had expected it to come up again eventually, but not so soon. He forced his expression to remain neutral. "I didn't touch it," he said quickly, his voice even. "It was lifeless when I got there."

The lie rolled off his tongue smoothly, but he could still feel a twinge of discomfort. He hadn't touched the orb. But Lysara had been inside it, and he knew all too well how dangerous the truth could be. There was no way he could explain that to Aric—not now, not ever. The less anyone knew about Lysara, the better.

Aric studied him for a moment, as if searching for any hint of deception, but then he shrugged. "Fair enough. I guess I'll let it slide this time," he said with a grin, his playful demeanor returning. "Just try not to make it a habit, alright? Getting in trouble with Aldric isn't something you want to do on a regular basis."

Lorian chuckled lightly, relieved that the conversation had shifted. "I'll keep that in mind."

Aric's eyes drifted to the sleek black cat lounging over Lorian's shoulder, her red eyes glowing faintly in the sunlight. "And speaking of things you probably shouldn't have found… where'd you pick up this little troublemaker?" he asked, reaching out to scratch behind Lysara's ears.

Lysara's reaction was immediate—her fur bristled, and she swatted at Aric's hand with a sharp hiss, claws flashing as she lashed out. Aric jerked his hand back, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Whoa! Feisty little thing, isn't she?" he exclaimed, shaking his hand as if to dispel the sting of her claws.

He tried to destroy me once, Lysara's voice whispered in Lorian's mind, her tone cold. Did you really think I'd let him pet me?

Lorian held back a sigh. He knew Lysara's hostility toward Aric had more to do with their past—after all, when Lysara had been trapped inside the orb, Aric had been part of the team that tried to destroy it. She hadn't forgotten that.

"She's… not great with strangers," Lorian explained, trying to keep his tone casual. "She followed me while I was on patrol during the assignment. Guess she decided to stick around." He repeated the same story he'd given Ren and Nia, keeping it simple and nonchalant.

Aric raised an eyebrow, clearly still intrigued but too amused to press further. "You really do have a knack for attracting trouble, don't you?" he said, shaking his head with a grin. "First restricted areas, now hissing cats."

Lorian smirked, brushing it off. "Comes with the territory, I guess."

Aric chuckled before his expression grew more serious. "So, the Grand Melee's coming up soon," he said, his voice thoughtful. "You're planning to compete, right?"

Lorian's smirk faded, his jaw tightening. "You already know I'm barred from it."

Aric didn't miss a beat, his tone laced with sharp defiance. "Yeah, and Thaddeus can kick rocks. You think I care what he says?" His arms crossed over his chest as he studied Lorian, the teasing replaced by a fierce determination. "You've been training harder than anyone here. If anyone's ready for that melee, it's you. Your father's been holding you back for too long. Hell, if it were up to me, I'd have you competing tomorrow."

Lorian glanced at Aric, a flicker of gratitude cutting through his frustration. His mentor had always supported him, always pushed him to be better. But knowing what he did now—that his parents had placed the seal on him from birth—it only made everything worse. All this time, he had been fighting against the very people who were supposed to help him. The resentment simmered beneath the surface.

Aric, sensing the weight of Lorian's silence, clapped him on the back. "Look," he said, his tone softening, "I don't care what Thaddeus says. You've got my blessing, kid. You've got more potential than you realize. And if your father's too blind to see it, then that's his loss."

Lorian nodded, the bitterness in his chest shifting to something more determined. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice low.

Aric grinned. "Don't mention it. Just make sure you're ready. Thaddeus would be a fool not to let you compete, and even if he doesn't, I'll make sure you're in that ring."

Lorian met his mentor's gaze, feeling a renewed sense of purpose settle over him. He had been held back long enough. Whether his father approved or not, Lorian was going to compete. He was going to show them all what he could do—light and shadow combined.

"Well, I'd better get back to Aelshire before your father starts sending out search parties," Aric said, his tone lightening again as he took a step back. "Just remember—if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

Lorian gave a small smile. "I will."

With that, Aric gave a final nod before turning and walking away, his figure disappearing into the crowd. Lorian watched him go, feeling the weight on his shoulders lift slightly. Aric's confidence in him had always been a source of strength, but now it felt like validation—proof that he wasn't wrong to resent the people who had stifled his growth for so long.

You've always been capable of more, Lysara's voice purred in his mind, her tone filled with satisfaction. Now it's time to show them.

Lorian glanced down at the black cat perched on his shoulder, her red eyes gleaming with silent approval. He had spent his life under the control of his father, under the watchful eyes of those who had only ever seen his limitations. But not anymore. Now, with the power of both light and shadow, he would forge his own path.

And no one—not his father, not the academy, not anyone—was going to hold him back.

Lorian made his way through the academy's sprawling halls, his destination set for the Advanced Arcane Weaponry class—more commonly known as the enchantment course. It was his first class back since returning from the expedition, and while he felt an undeniable surge of power within him, the anticipation of what lay ahead sent a ripple of excitement through his veins.

The door to the classroom was already propped open when he arrived, revealing a space unlike any of the other classes he had attended at the academy. Instead of the usual rows of desks and bookshelves filled with musty tomes, the Advanced Arcane Weaponry room was cluttered with workbenches, tools, and magical diagrams etched into the stone walls. Various enchanted weapons hung on the walls, gleaming with faint traces of magic, while crystals pulsed softly on nearby shelves. The air itself hummed with energy, thick with the scent of burned wood, metal, and something almost unplaceable—pure magic.

At the center of it all stood Professor Rythan Farron, the academy's eccentric enchantment expert, known for his unconventional methods and even more unconventional personality. Rythan was tall and thin, with wild silver hair that stuck up in all directions as if permanently charged by static. His robes, a deep shade of indigo, were embroidered with intricate golden runes that shimmered faintly whenever he moved. His spectacles, perched haphazardly on the bridge of his nose, reflected the enchanted light from the room, hiding his sharp, perpetually curious eyes.

Lorian had heard plenty about Professor Farron from upperclassmen, most of whom either spoke of him with awe or exasperation. He was a legend at the academy—both brilliant and unpredictable. Some days, he'd be found muttering to himself while engraving runes on a sword; other days, he'd spend hours staring into a crystal orb, lost in thought. He had the kind of mind that could unearth ancient magic long forgotten and make it seem almost trivial.

As Lorian stepped inside, he caught sight of the professor scribbling furiously on a chalkboard, the writing a chaotic mix of complex arcane symbols and half-finished sentences. It wasn't until the rest of the students had shuffled in behind him that Farron finally acknowledged the class's presence.

"Ah! Wonderful, you're all here," Farron exclaimed, turning to face them with a wide grin that could only be described as manic. He clapped his hands together, sending a small burst of energy through the room, causing a few crystals on the shelves to flicker. "Now, who's ready to make some mistakes today? Because, my dear students, in enchantment, mistakes are the foundation of brilliance!"

Lorian raised an eyebrow. This is going to be interesting.

Farron's voice bounced off the walls as he began his introduction, pacing energetically in front of the class. "Arcane weaponry, as I'm sure you all know, is the ancient and noble art of making sure things explode exactly when we want them to, and not a moment sooner. Too many people assume enchantment is about control, discipline, focus—pah!" He waved his hand dismissively, as if shooing away the idea. "It's about chaos. It's about understanding that chaos and bending it to your will."

Lorian couldn't help but feel captivated by the professor's wild energy. Farron's passion for the subject was infectious, though he suspected this class might be more unpredictable than most.

"You all have basic proficiency with internal mana channeling, yes? Good! If not, well… you'll figure it out!" Farron continued, gesturing to the workbenches scattered around the room. "Today, we'll begin with an easy task—infusing your weapons with elemental energy. Sounds simple, right? Well, it's not. Elemental energy is volatile. Unstable. It doesn't like being put into a neat little package. But once you've got it locked into your weapon, oh, the things you can do…"

Farron's voice trailed off as he began rummaging through a pile of enchanted objects on his desk, muttering to himself. "Ah, here it is!" He pulled out what looked like a broken dagger, its blade cracked down the middle, but still faintly glowing with fire magic. "This! This was my first project. A failure, if I'm honest, but a beautiful failure. See how the fire magic melted the metal here? Couldn't control the infusion process. But that's the beauty of enchantment—you learn from every disaster."

Lorian watched as Farron twirled the ruined dagger in his hand before tossing it casually back onto the desk. There was something oddly charming about the professor's approach, and despite his eccentricities, Lorian could tell he was a master of his craft.

Farron turned back to the class, his grin returning. "Now then, let's see what you can do. Pair up, grab your weapons, and begin channeling elemental energy into them. Fire, lightning, ice—whatever strikes your fancy! Just… don't blow anything up. Well, not too much."

As the students began to shuffle around and form pairs, Lorian made his way to a nearby workbench, his mind already buzzing with possibilities. He unsheathed his sword, laying it carefully on the table in front of him. He'd never attempted an elemental infusion before, but with his newfound control over light and shadow magic, he felt confident that he could handle it.

Lysara's voice echoed softly in his mind. Elemental magic? How quaint. Let's see what you do with this, darling.

Lorian smirked, knowing Lysara was watching with interest. He took a deep breath, focusing on the task at hand. He had worked hard to master the internal channeling of his mana, so summoning it wasn't the problem here. His light magic responded instantly, the familiar glow of warmth radiating from within him. With practiced ease, he directed his mana into the blade, coaxing it with the precision he had learned over years of practice.

The blade responded, glowing with a soft, steady light as Lorian bound the energy. The mana flowed smoothly, intertwining with the steel until the entire blade was illuminated by his magic. He felt the bond strengthen, the light becoming part of the weapon itself.

"Not bad," Farron's voice called from across the room. The professor had apparently been watching him. "But let's see you bind something a bit more volatile. Light magic's one thing, but fire is another beast entirely."

Lorian's brow furrowed as Farron stepped closer, holding up a glowing red crystal. "Fire crystal," Farron explained, tossing it casually to Lorian, who caught it. "Now, most enchanters can bind elements they're familiar with. Light is clearly your affinity, so this wasn't much of a challenge for you. But what about fire? How do enchanters work with elements they don't have?"

Lorian hesitated, his fingers curling around the crystal. "They use items that carry the affinity," he answered, recalling some of his previous lessons.

"Exactly," Farron said, his grin widening. "We use crystals, monster parts, even special artifacts—anything with a trace of elemental magic. That's how enchanters bind elements they don't personally wield. And now it's your turn."

Farron gestured to the pile of daggers, all in various states of disrepair. "These have been generously provided by our blacksmithing students. Don't expect perfection, but they'll do the job. Your task is to bind the fire element from that crystal into one of these blades. Simple, right?"

Lorian nodded, picking up one of the rough daggers from the pile. He wasn't worried about channeling mana, but fire wasn't his element. This would be different from his light magic.

"So, let's start with the basics," Farron continued. "Channel your mana into the crystal, draw out the fire element, and bind it to the blade. You're not using fire magic yourself, just coaxing the element out and into the weapon. And remember—don't try to force it."

Lorian took a deep breath, holding the fire crystal in one hand and the dagger in the other. He could feel the warmth of the crystal radiating against his skin, pulsing with energy. Carefully, he channeled his mana into the crystal, feeling the fire magic stir within. The essence of the element responded quickly, fiery energy surging outward.

He tried to guide that energy into the blade, but it resisted. The fire was wild, slipping through his control as he attempted to bind it to the metal. It was nothing like his light magic, which came so naturally to him. This was foreign, volatile.

"Careful now," Farron said, watching with keen interest. "You're not channeling light anymore. Fire doesn't follow the same rules. Guide it, don't force it."

Lorian grit his teeth, adjusting his focus. He relaxed his grip on the fire magic, letting it flow more freely as he gently coaxed it toward the blade. Slowly, the resistance faded, and the energy began to seep into the dagger. But as he worked, he could feel some of the fire's potency slipping away. The flames dimmed as they bound to the metal, and when he finally finished, the blade glowed with a faint orange hue—far weaker than it should have been.

Farron approached, his grin widening. "Not bad for your first attempt. You lost a bit of the essence along the way, but you got the binding to hold. With time and practice, you'll be able to retain more of the potency."

Lorian glanced down at the dagger, feeling a mix of satisfaction and frustration. He had managed to bind the fire magic, but the result was weaker than he had hoped.

Farron clapped him on the back. "Remember, boy, elemental binding isn't about brute force. You've got to find the balance between the element and the weapon. But don't worry—you'll get the hang of it."

Lorian nodded, his mind already racing with ways to improve. As Farron moved on to observe the other students, Lorian set his sights on another crystal, determined to master the process.