The world had lost its color.
The days after the signing of the parchment bled into one another, each one longer and heavier than the last. The vibrant green of the forest seemed muted, the cheerful chirping of birds had become nothing more than a distant, irritating noise. Time, which had once flown swiftly during my training, now dragged its feet through thick mud. A month had never felt like such a lifetime.
My parents, my dear, heartbreaking parents, refused to leave my side. My father, usually a man of quiet industry, abandoned his woodworking. Instead, he sat by the hearth with his rough hands idle, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of profound pride and a grief so deep I could feel it from across the room. He didn't need to speak. The silence between us was a symphony of everything we were losing.
My mother smothered me in a desperate, aching love. She cooked all my favorite meals, rich stews and sweet honeyed breads, until the small table groaned under their weight. She would watch me eat, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, as if she were trying to memorize the very way I chewed. Her hugs lasted too long, were too tight, as if she could press my very existence into her arms before I slipped away.
I tried to continue my training. It was the only thing that felt like mine anymore. I would slip away to the clearing, the place that had once been a sanctuary of wonder and power. Yet now the magic felt sluggish and rebellious. I raised my hands, tried to conjure the familiar staff of violet and gold, but the light sputtered and died. The energy that usually surged like flowing water inside me was stagnant, clogged with a thick sadness. It was like trying to call forth a storm while my soul was trapped in fog.
It was during one of these failed attempts, my shoulders slumped in defeat, that I heard the soft crunch of boots on fallen leaves. I did not need to turn. I knew the presence, the way the air grew still and respectful around him.
The Duke stood at the edge of the clearing, watching me. He did not wear his usual training attire but simple, dark traveling clothes. He looked less like a noble and more like a weary man. After a long moment, he walked forward and sat on a moss-covered stone beside me without speaking. The silence stretched, but it was not the comfortable one we usually shared. This one was filled with unspoken truths, the weight of my adoption, my new name, my broken world.
I kept my eyes fixed on my hands, clenched in my lap. I could not look at him. To me, he was the architect of this pain, the one who had drawn the line that now separated me from my life.
"Kiddo," he began, his voice a low rumble, softer than I had ever heard it. It was the voice he used when explaining a difficult technique, not when discussing the dissolution of a family.
I stayed silent, a hot knot of anger and betrayal tightening in my chest.
He sighed, a sound of genuine weariness. "I know you are upset. I know it feels like the ground has been ripped out from under you." He paused, choosing his words with care. "Look at me, Kairu."
The use of my new name was a deliberate prod. Reluctantly, I lifted my gaze. I expected to see cold authority, the unyielding eyes of a Duke. Instead, I saw something that shocked me: understanding. And a sadness that matched my own.
"That parchment," he said slowly, "is ink and paper. Nothing more. It is a tool, a key to a door that would otherwise remain locked to you forever." He leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine. "It is a fiction. It changes your name for the records of snobbish academies and pompous councils. But it does not, and never can, change the truth of who you are."
His words struck deep. I felt my breath catch in my throat.
"Your father," the Duke continued, and the word was spoken with deliberate weight, referring to the man who had raised me, "the man who taught you to walk, who carried you when you were sick, who worked with his hands so you could eat… that man is your father. Your mother, who sang you to sleep, who kissed your scrapes, whose heart beats outside her body in your chest… she is your mother. No decree I sign can change that."
A single, traitorous tear escaped and traced a hot line down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away.
"I am not replacing them," he said, and for the first time I heard a sliver of vulnerability in his voice. "I am providing a shield. So that the incredible power you carry is not crushed by those who would fear it in a boy born without a title. I am giving you the armor you need to survive the world you are destined for."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. It was not the commanding grip of a lord, but the steadying touch of a mentor. "The love in that home of yours, Kairu, is real. The name on that parchment is only a costume you will wear at the gates of the world. You can never stop being their son. And they will never stop being your parents."
The dam inside me broke. The fog of sadness did not vanish, but it parted, letting a single shaft of light through. The knot in my chest loosened. He was not stealing me. He was protecting me. He was not erasing my past. He was securing my future.
For the first time in days, I took a full, shuddering breath. I looked at my hands again, but now I did not see failure. I saw possibility.
I closed my eyes and reached for the magic within. This time, I did not fight the sadness. I acknowledged it. I let it flow with the current. I thought of my mother's tears, not as pain, but as proof of her love. I thought of my father's silent pride, a foundation that could not be broken. I imagined the magic as a river fed by all of it, joy and love, grief and hope.
The energy responded. It was not a trickle. It was a surge. It flowed through me, clean and bright. I shaped it, not with strained determination, but with a heart that was finally whole.
When I opened my eyes, hovering before me was no simple staff. It was a masterpiece of light. A core of deep royal purple swirled with veins of brilliant gold. It was more solid, more alive than anything I had ever created. It hummed with resonant power, and motes of light drifted from its surface like luminous dust.
I heard the Duke's sharp intake of breath. I turned to him and saw awe, raw and unhidden, in his face.
"Remarkable," he whispered. "You were not holding back your magic, boy. You were holding back your heart."
I let the staff linger, marveling at the effortless control I had over it. It felt like a part of me. Then, with a thought, I released it, letting the light fade until only the forest remained.
The Duke rose, a genuine smile touching his lips for the first time since he had come. "That is the mage you are meant to be. Not Kairu the commoner. Not Kairu Edryas the noble. Just Kairu, the mage."
He turned to leave, but paused. "Treasure this month. Let them love you. And love them back with everything you have. That love will be the strongest spell you will ever know."
And then he left me in the clearing. But I was not alone. I felt my parents with me, their love surrounding me, fueling me. The world was still changing. The future was still frightening. But the foundation was strong.
I was their son. I always would be....