Loric Cromwell stumbled into the grand estate of his family, followed by his visibly distressed escort. The Cromwell residence stood as a testament to refined wealth—an expansive mansion with stately stone walls, arched windows, and ivy crawling up its edges. While not on par with the homes of true nobility, its meticulously landscaped gardens and polished marble steps showcased the family's affluence.
Loric was a young boy of striking appearance, with short-cropped blonde hair and sharp, confident eyes. However, his usual composure had crumbled. His hands trembled slightly, and his face was pale, etched with a haunted expression. Each step he took felt heavy, weighed down by the oppressive memories of what had transpired.
As he and his companion made their way to report to the family head, they encountered Loric's older brother, Elros Cromwell. Elros stood taller and more composed, a young man of equal distinction. His golden hair was swept back neatly, accentuating a sharp jawline and piercing green eyes. Despite his commanding presence, there was a softness to his features that tempered his air of authority. The moment he saw Loric in such a distressed state, he immediately stepped forward.
"What happened?" Elros's voice was firm but tinged with concern.
Loric's lips parted as though to answer, but no words came. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. Each time he recalled the oppressive pressure from earlier, it felt as though an invisible hand clenched around his heart. His green eyes darted nervously, as if expecting the memory itself to manifest and strike him down.
Seeing this, the escort stepped forward to speak. "Young master Elros, we… We encountered a man at the Divine Fragrance Palace. He was… not someone ordinary. He exuded an aura… something unnatural. Loric spoke out of turn, and the man…" The escort paused, searching for the right words, "... the man's presence alone overwhelmed us. It was like facing an abyss."
Elros's gaze hardened. He turned to Loric and said, "How many times have I told you? Your arrogance will get you into trouble. You can't keep throwing your weight around like this." His voice carried the weight of frustration but also genuine concern. "I knew something like this would happen eventually."
Loric said nothing, staring at the polished marble floor as though it might swallow him whole.
***
Loric, along with the escort, soon stood before the Cromwell family head, Edric Cromwell. Edric was a man in his late forties, with streaks of silver running through his otherwise dark hair. His sharp cheekbones and stern, hawk-like eyes gave him an air of unyielding authority. He sat in the family's study, a room lined with towering bookshelves and adorned with the scent of aged leather.
As Loric entered, Edric's gaze fell on his youngest son. Usually brimming with energy and an air of entitlement, Loric now looked like a shadow of himself. The contrast made Alistair's brows furrow deeply.
"Speak," he commanded, his voice low but carrying an undeniable weight.
The escort once again took it upon himself to relay the events. He left nothing out, recounting the encounter at the restaurant in meticulous detail. When he finished, silence filled the room. Edric's fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, his expression unreadable.
Finally, he exhaled sharply and gestured for Loric to leave. "Go see the healer," he said curtly. "And afterwards prepare to leave for the academy alongside your older brother."
As Loric left, Edric leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze settling on the escort. "Find out who this man is. Start with the Divine Fragrance Palace; they should know something since he made a scene there."
the escort nodded, his expression grim. "It will be done."
***
Meanwhile, in another corner of the city, Mizan stepped through the gates of his uncle's modest home. His uncle, being the son-in-law of the Lightwards, resided within the family estate in their private courtyard. Unlike the grandeur of the Cromwell estate, the Lightward residence was understated—a reflection of their modest standing as a small merchant family. They lived comfortably, neither indulging in luxury nor struggling to meet their needs. Inside, the warmth of a lived-in home welcomed him, though it felt hollow to Mizan. He usually stayed at the academy dorms despite the ridicule he faced there. But with the semester break, he had no choice but to return.
Mizan's room, while small, was practical. It had a single narrow bed with a neatly folded quilt, a wooden desk arranged with some books and a lamp powered by a magic crystal, and a small window overlooking the garden. He sat on the bed, his head resting in his hands as the events of the day replayed in his mind. Ark's words echoed within him, tugging at something deep and buried.
Should he follow the mysterious man and carve out a new path? Or should he accept his fate and resign himself to a life of mediocrity?
The night passed without a wink of sleep, Mizan hadn't realized it was already dawn. The soft light of sunrise seeped through the window, illuminating his sleepless face. He had spent the entire night lost in thought, wrestling with a decision that weighed heavily on his heart. As the golden rays warmed his skin, a sense of resolution began to settle over him.
He would tell his uncle. Tell him that he was leaving the city, setting out on an adventure to carve a new path for himself. Or maybe he wouldn't. With the new semester starting tomorrow, perhaps it would be easier to pretend he was heading back to the academy and slip away without a word.
The memories tugged at him. He recalled how kind his uncle and his uncle's wife, Catelin, had been when he first enrolled in the academy. Everyone had believed he was destined for greatness back then. But as time passed and his progress faltered, Catelin's warmth faded. Her gaze turned cold, her words sharp, she started seeing him as a burden instead. And even his uncle, once a steadfast figure of support, slowly began to be influenced by his wife's behavior.
In this house, there was only one soul who still treated him with genuine kindness—Jesseca, the innocent little girl who always greeted him with a smile untainted by judgment.
At breakfast, Mizan joined his uncle's family at the table. Isaac Madden, a middle-aged man with kind but tired eyes and a thinning hairline, asked, "Why did you skip dinner last night?"
Mizan forced a weak smile. "I wasn't hungry. I was tired and went straight to bed."
Isaac nodded,"The academy starts tomorrow, doesn't it? When are you leaving?"
Mizan's grip on his fork tightened. "I… I'll leave today. It's half a day's journey, so I'll arrive by evening."
Catelin, gave an audible "hmph." She was a sharp-featured woman with piercing blue eyes and a stern demeanor. Her gaze swept over Mizan, and she spoke with thinly veiled disdain.
"You're wasting your time," Catelin said bluntly. "If you're going to get expelled anyway, it's better you stay here and start learning real work."
Mizan's face burned with shame, but he said nothing. Isaac turned to Mizan, his tone softer. "What do you think Mizan? Do you want to stay and help at the shop instead?"
Mizan hesitated, then said, "I want to see it through till the end at the academy." His voice was steady but quiet.
"Then go. Make the most of it," Isaac said with a nod.
Unable to bear the tension any longer, Mizan excused himself from the table. As he rose, Catelin's voice followed him. "So rude. That's what happens when a child grows up without parents."
"Catelin!" Isaac sternly shouted his wife's name stopping her from spouting more nonsense.
Mizan froze in the doorway, his fists clenching tightly. He didn't look back, forcing his feet to carry him out of the room.
Back at the table, Jessica, Isaac's eleven-year-old daughter, looked up at her mother with wide, innocent eyes. "Mother, why are you so mean to big brother Miz?"
The question hung in the air, disarming Catelin. She shifted uncomfortably, guilt flickering across her face thinking that she indeed went too far. "I…" she started but didn't finish.
Isaac sighed heavily and shook his head. The family finished their breakfast in silence.
***
After gathering his belongings, Mizan left his uncle's home with a heavy heart, fully intending not to return. His first destination was the cemetery, where he visited his mother's grave as he always did. Along the way, his mind raced with thoughts of the mysterious man he had encountered the day before. A part of him wished fervently that Ark would already be there, waiting for him, but he knew the promised meeting was set for the following dawn. When he arrived at the cemetery, the emptiness confirmed his expectations. No one was there.
Mizan knelt before his mother's grave, placing his hand gently on the cold stone. The memories of her warmth and the life they had shared flooded his mind, mingling with his uncertainty about the future. He paid his respects, whispering promises he wasn't sure he could keep. Once the solemn moment ended, he made his way to the city center, where he booked a room at an inn using the money Ark had given him. Exhausted as he didn't sleep last night, he lay on the creaky bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm the storm within him.