He didn't know how long had passed as he lay sprawled across his bed wearing a fine black-suit.
Each crease and mark that adorned the faded fabric had been carefully cleaned and ironed, presenting the image of a refined and put-together boy.
On the inside, however, he was far from the rigid noble he had been dressed up to be.
Every fiber of his being wilted as the sharp tightening in his chest deepened, and dark circles drooped low on his face.
Red, puffy eyes, brought by tormented sleep, stared lifelessly at the plain white ceiling above, waiting as time passed.
Memories of the last words his mother told him echoed through his head, mixed with the night he heard the news.
She had died of her disease, one incurable to modern magics and even to the methods from ancient texts.
Raphael had tried to uncover anything he could from the books kept in the library, with the only lead that he found being an account of a miracle.
It was a short passage describing how a local farmer was raised from the dead by the Magician himself before his disappearance.
Other than that, however, even the history books ran dry, leaving the white-haired boy only to wait for the inevitable.
Dong… Dong… Dong…
The clock's heavy chimes rang out through the quiet room, forcing the boy to look up, gazing at the time with empty eyes.
Noon had finally come, marking the hour that his mother would be buried beneath the land, forever entombed in stone.
His body creaked and groaned as he sat up, moving his legs across the bed and onto the cold wood floor.
Standing up calmly, he stepped forward, turning his gaze to a small armchair that stood beneath the bedroom window.
A rectangular portrait, covered by a thin white cloth, was illuminated by the midday sun, allowing the beautifully painted picture to come to life.
It was like a portal through time, one that reminded the boy what he had truly lost, the one and only person who had his side in this world.
And as he turned his face away, tilting his head toward his black shoes, he simply stared blankly without a tear in sight.
…
The funeral lasted only fifteen minutes, his father rushing the procedure as he had a fishing trip planned later in the day.
Alaric and Griselda both stayed away from Raphael as he silently stared at the coffin being lowered into the soil.
Light gusts of wind blew through the valley, moving the wisps of yellow wheat in a wave-like pattern.
She had wished to be buried here, where the plants were lush and the animals drew near.
Many of the other nobles had mocked her decision, wondering why anyone of her stature would want to pass into the Great Beyond covered in dirt.
Raphael, on the other hand, knew her reasons for the choice.
She had once told him a story of her youth, where every day she would visit the flower gardens of her estate.
There she would play with tiny birds the size of an apple, roll around in the mud with pigs, and even hop around with rabbits.
It sounded like a fairy tale, and it very well might've been that; however, it meant something to the woman.
Maybe it was her escape from the awful life she lived, a desperate story of a time when she could live freely and out of the control of the family.
With this meaning in mind, it made the words his father would utter moments after she was laid to rest, even harder on the white-haired boy who watched in horror.
"Bury her in cement."
His words shocked everyone in attendance, even the gravediggers who had already begun shoveling dirt back into the grave.
One of the men turned to the patriarch, confusion adorning his face as he asked the man a question.
"The will said to be buried with—"
The worker's body flew across the field of yellow as Phantos von Steinfeste kicked him hard in the chest.
An audible gasp exploded from multiple members of the procession, the most notable of course being Alaric, who ran towards his father, grabbing his arm before he could draw his sword.
"What in god's blue earth are you doing!?"
His grip waned as the patriarch slammed him to the ground, placing his foot atop his favorite son's chest and applying pressure.
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT WRETCH DID TO US!?"
His voice, like thunder, reverberated through the meadow, forcing many to their knees and some to draw their blades.
Phantos' face was red with rage as he held his sword in his hand, screaming at his son, who could only struggle under his father's foot.
"FOR THE PAST 10 YEARS SHE HAS BEEN DESTROYING OUR FAMILY FROM THE INSIDE!"
Another booming explosion of fury shot forth from the man, making Alaric nearly faint from the increased force applied by the man.
What the patriarch himself was referring to was the dealings of the woman who had married into the Steinfeste family seventeen years ago.
Maria Matthews was the heir of the Matthews family, who ruled the Holy Capital with an iron fist and was only second to the King.
In secret dealings through underground markets, she had periodically made deals with various foreign diplomats and noble families for years.
These connections formed over the years of suffering she put up with at the hands of the Steinfeste family all came to fruition on the day of her death.
Raphael von Steinfeste, second son of the Steinfeste Dynasty and heir to nothing, had overnight become the sole inheritor of eighteen fortunes.
Stretching between eight seas and twelve islands, the woman offered the nobles of the world a rare item granted to the family by the King of Wishes himself.
The Heart of Light.
It was an item without any equal when it came to holy magic, granting the wielder a position that far outweighed anything money could buy.
Once in a century, it could be used to brand an individual and their descendants with the Mark of the Sun, a small tattoo that appears on a random part of their body.
Such an instrument served only one use, one that had been extorted a century ago by the current Belvedere family.
The power to inherit the Ghostship of Wishes.
When marked with the Heart, one would enter the line of succession to the vessel, granting them and their descendants eternal nobility.
Throughout the years, each member of the Belvedere family had inherited the mark, with the youngest son of the family having it in the present day.
After a strange encounter with the King of Wishes many decades ago, he had granted the family the item as it served him no purpose for another half century.
That, however, was a mistake on the part of the lord.
When the clock struck midnight on the date of Raphael's thirteenth birthday, the tool reawakened, yet with the chaos of the disappearance of the current King, nobody had come to claim it.
And so, the white-haired woman executed her plan in the dead of night, deciding it to be the only way to ensure her son's survival.
Following every precaution, it had been sealed beneath the mansion with only one bearing the biometric data of a Steinfeste able to unlock it.
Maria Matthews, a non-blood member of the family, used Raphael to enter the facility, stealing the tool and bartering it away to anyone with wealth.
In the end, it had been left on an empty island with the coordinates sent to any family who had signed away their fortunes to her son.
As a result of carelessly touching an object forged by the divine, her body had withered to the ultimate extreme.
Weeks later, her disease manifested, forcing her to be bedridden, only to die a painful, agonizing death as a result.
To her, however, such pain was worth it to ensure the only child she truthfully acknowledged as her own would live a long life.
Whether for the abuse she suffered at the hands of her husband, the pain of losing her first son at birth, or the onset of the curse, she had always loved Raphael.
So as the patriarch of the family stood over his own son, surrounded by those who had been in dealings with Maria Matthews, Raphael could only stare blankly at his father.
Was everything he had said true?
Never in his wildest dreams had he even imagined something of such importance being located below his own home.
Nonetheless, it was stolen by his kind-hearted and sweet mother, who wouldn't even hurt a fly, and sold away.
And now his father faced hordes of armed men who brandished their blades at a funeral, threatening to ruin the last memory he would ever have of his mother.
He tried to speak, yet no words came out, his voice as dry as his eyes that lacked any hint of tears.
His father's thundering rage billowed out once again, deafening the scene.
"RAPHAEL! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!"
Sweeping his gaze across the crowd in a frenzied motion, he locked onto the white-haired boy who lay on his knees.
Phantos slowly picked up his foot from his other son, beginning a slow walk towards Raphael.
His sheer presence was intoxicating, pushing Raphael backwards like a wind so strong it threatened to blow him away.
"I SHOULD'VE KILLED YOU YEARS AGO!"
Raising his sword without hesitation, he charged it was all his might, preparing a blow that would certainly obliterate the child instantly.
KRAAANG!
Steel screamed against steel as a blade collided with the insane pressure emitted from the patriarch's slash.
The ground cracked underneath their feet as a man whose short white and gray hair reflected in his purple eyes parried his strike.
Marven Matthews, the father of Maria Matthews and Raphael's maternal grandfather, stood face to face with Phantos von Steinfeste.
"Stand down, Little Phantos. I will kill you where you stand if you do not. This boy is under the protection of the Matthews family, along with seventeen others. Do not do this."
He was the head of one of the eleven remaining great families, an Admiral known around the world as the Arctic Hunter, and a man who ranked near the top of the Oceanic Association.
In every regard, he held such tremendous political power that even the patriarch himself couldn't simply dispose of him.
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO DISPUTE ME IN MY OWN TERRITORY, MATTHEWS!"
The booming voice of his father once again rocked the land, followed by a swift movement of his sword.
Its arch was like a work of art, beautifully dodging the man and aiming a perfect slice across Raphael's neck.
For anyone below an Admiral, such a strike would've been impossible to block; however, with a kick of his foot, his grandfather's body flipped backwards.
His arms twisted with the sword he wielded, forming a circle within the air, deflecting Phantos' strike with ease.
Landing calmly, he slammed his leg into the patriarch's heel, sending him reeling while simultaneously punching his chest fifty-four times.
The force nearly sent Phantos to the ground; however, a swift arch of his blade propped him upward, allowing him to spin around quickly.
His fingers tightened as he re-gripped his sword, taking another massive swing at the white-haired boy behind the Admiral.
TING!
In an instant, he was without his weapon, defenseless, as Marven stood over him, darkness shrouding his face.
"Admit defeat or die. I will offer no other outcomes."
The cold winds of winter blew across the land, sending a rare chill down the patriarch's spine as he realized with a glance that every noble he had personally gathered to deface his wife even in death was laughing at him.
In that moment, indescribable rage consumed him, forcing only one thought into his mind.
Twisting himself around faster than the Admiral could react, he reached for his sword, preparing one final strike at the man when he had his guard down.
It was cowardly, yet the only chance of defending his reputation.
He would first kill Marven, then his son, and every spectator who had mocked him.
A smile crept up his face as he felt his hand brush against what he thought to be his sword, grabbing it and lunging at Matthews hurriedly.
Instead of blood spraying across the meadow, only the sound of heavy silence befell the gravesite.
He had grabbed a flower instead of his sword, a mistake that nobody in their right mind could make.
Darting his eyes around, he noticed Raphael holding his weapon, allowing him to slowly realize his own son had disarmed him.
"WHY!?"
His scream echoed through the valley as Marven kicked him down to the ground and pressed his own blade against the man's neck.
From across the field, the white-haired Raphael could only respond quietly, fearing another outburst from his father.
"Y-You were going to get killed if you tried to strike…"
His words left his father speechless as he was pinned and arrested by the Admiral, forcing him to live with the shame of his actions.
Even after he had degraded him, humiliated him, and tried to kill him multiple times within the span of a day, Raphael still protected his own father.
It made him want to scowl in disgust at the sheer weakness that his own son had shown him that day.
Marven himself only gave a solemn look of approval to the boy before handing over the patriarch to another man who looked to be a servant.
Slowly, the man walked towards his grandson, taking the blade from his hand and passing it along to Alaric, who stared blankly into space.
Opening his mouth to speak, the head of the Matthews family addressed Raphael, who could only look up at him silently.
"You'll be living with me now. Let's go."
There wasn't another word spoken after that, with the rest of the nobles dispersing in mobs after watching the scene.
This day, the one in which Raphael prepared to say goodbye to his mother and enter into the rest of his life controlled by his awful family, had changed.
Now, he had hope.
And this sliver of a chance given to him by the testament of his mother would one day allow him to change the world.