The Valmere estate was quiet in the early hours of dawn, its opulent halls bathed in soft golden light streaming through crystal windows. Serena Valmere sat at her desk in the private study, her sharp eyes scanning a stack of parchments detailing yesterday's evaluations. Across from her, Elira fidgeted slightly in her seat, still unsettled by the events that had unfolded. Though she tried to mask it, her thoughts kept drifting back to one figure in particular—the boy who had unleashed terror into the hall like an unseen storm.
"You were unusually silent during the debriefing," Serena said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her tone wasn't accusatory, but there was an edge to it—a subtle demand for explanation.
Elira hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I didn't think there was much to say. The candidates performed as expected… mostly."
"Mostly?" Serena raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Explain."
Elira glanced down at her hands, which rested on the table. "There was that boy—Kael Veylin. He… stood out."
Serena's expression softened ever so slightly, though her gaze remained piercing. "Yes, he did. Quite remarkably so. Tell me, what did you sense from him?"
Elira frowned, recalling the wave of dread that had washed over her when their eyes met. It wasn't just fear—it was something deeper, primal. "It felt wrong," she admitted quietly. "Not evil, exactly, but… unnatural. Like whatever he used wasn't part of the collective consciousness. Not magic, either—at least, not any kind I've seen before."
Serena tapped her fingers against the armrest of her chair, thoughtful. "That aligns with my observations. His ability—whatever it is—doesn't stem from conventional Seeking. No threads plucked from the void, no artifacts hidden in his robes. Yet the effect was undeniable. Fear manifested physically, overwhelming even seasoned observers."
She paused, studying her daughter closely. "And yet, you seem troubled. Why?"
Elira hesitated again, unsure how to articulate the unease lingering within her. "It reminded me of that night—the fog, the shadows, the whispers. Whatever scared off those thugs… I think it might have been him."
Serena's brow furrowed slightly, her interest piqued. "You believe this boy saved you?"
"I don't know," Elira admitted. "But the feeling was the same. Dread so thick it choked the air. And then, nothing."
Serena leaned back in her chair, her expression contemplative. For several moments, she said nothing, allowing the weight of Elira's words to settle between them. Finally, she spoke, her voice measured but tinged with curiosity.
"Magic has always been practical," she mused aloud. "It requires no materials, no preparation—just knowledge and willpower. Artifacts, while useful, are limited by resources and craftsmanship. But this…" She gestured vaguely, as if trying to grasp something intangible. "This is something else entirely. A force untethered by convention or tradition."
Elira frowned, sensing the shift in her mother's tone. "You're not suggesting I abandon artifacts altogether, are you? Mother, we've discussed this—"
"No," Serena interrupted firmly. "Your path is yours to choose. But consider this: if you wish to leave a lasting legacy, you must push beyond comfort zones. Magic offers versatility, adaptability. It doesn't rely on external tools or constraints. What Kael demonstrated—while crude—is proof of that potential."
Elira opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. Arguing with her mother rarely yielded results, especially when Serena had already made up her mind. Instead, she nodded reluctantly, resigning herself to another lecture about embracing her heritage.
Satisfied—for now—Serena dismissed her daughter with a wave of her hand. "Go. Rest. Reflect on what you've learned. We'll discuss your next steps later."
As Elira rose and left the room, Serena turned her attention back to the parchment detailing Kael's performance. Commoner, orphaned at a young age, taken in by the owner of a low-tier tavern. No formal education, no notable achievements—until yesterday. Despite his lackluster background, there was something undeniably compelling about him. Something raw, untamed, and dangerous.
"Interesting," Serena murmured under her breath, tapping her pen absently against the desk. "Very interesting indeed."
Later that afternoon, Serena summoned one of her most trusted aides—a middle-aged man named Alden, whose loyalty to the Valmere family was matched only by his discretion.
"Alden," she began without preamble, "I need everything you can gather on Kael Veylin. Family history, current affiliations, habits, weaknesses. Leave no stone unturned."
Alden bowed slightly, his expression impassive. "Understood, Lady Valmere. Shall I prioritize immediate action?"
"Yes," Serena replied curtly. "Time is of the essence. If he's as unique as he appears, others may take notice soon enough. I want to act before they do."
Alden nodded once more before departing, leaving Serena alone with her thoughts. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers as she considered the implications. A commoner with no formal training wielding such power—it was unprecedented. Dangerous, certainly, but also… promising.
If Kael could be molded—if he could learn to control and refine his abilities—he might become a force unlike anything Veyrith had ever seen. And under her guidance, he could represent the future of magical innovation.
But first, she needed to understand him. To see whether he could adapt to her school, where tradition and discipline reigned supreme. Whether he would thrive—or break.
For now, Serena was content to observe. But patience had never been her strongest virtue.
.