Dawn arrived wrapped in a thick fog. Thiriel woke early, as always. He went to the kitchen, took the usual ration, and paused at the half-open doorway, watching as Master Vexar spoke with the Matron in the dining hall.
The old man handed her a heavy pouch that clinked with gold and silver coins. She bowed so deeply her forehead nearly touched the floor, murmuring cloying thanks for "his generous annual sponsorship" and "the opportunity to serve a true mage."
Thiriel remained motionless in the shadows. 'Did the woman truly know who she was dealing with? Or had she simply decided that gold was worth more than the lives of the children she was supposed to raise?'
He ate the tasteless porridge and went out into the courtyard. He carried out a normal, routine training session—harmless enough in case the old man was watching.
Two hours later, the Matron called out to him with an authoritative voice. The six selected children and Caethiriel were waiting in the main hall alongside Vexar. The woman patted his shoulder with false familiarity.
"Do your best, boy," she said with feigned warmth. "Meet the Master's expectations. Not everyone gets this chance in life."
Thiriel did not respond. He simply took his sister's hand and walked toward the exit without looking back, together with the other orphans and the old man. They departed in a small carriage.
The journey lasted just under three hours along a dirt road that wound between low hills and dark forests.
The tower appeared as they rounded the final bend: an imposing four-story structure of black stone, with narrow windows. Fenced fields surrounded it, cultivated with unfamiliar herbs that glowed faintly, luminous flowers, and fruit trees bearing unknown fruit. A small lake mirrored the tower before the main entrance like polished glass.
A thin, almost imperceptible mist hovered over the entire structure, making the air feel heavier.
Thiriel sensed it before he truly saw it—pure energy, condensed, drawn in and contained by something he did not yet fully understand.
"That mist… is it magic?" he asked, feigning simple childish curiosity.
Vexar looked at him with renewed interest, almost with approval.
"Perceptive, boy," he replied. "Yes. It is the formations inscribed within the tower and its surroundings that attract and accumulate the natural energy of the environment. A true mage does not merely seek to absorb only the magic found in nature… There are many ways to harness magic."
Thiriel nodded, genuinely impressed by how versatile magic could be.
In his previous world, vital energy was strictly personal—limited by the body and will—and only masters could extend it into weapons or armor. Here, magic seemed capable of reshaping the land itself, bending the world to the will of a single man.
"When do we begin learning?" Drowen asked, unable to contain his eagerness.
Vexar chuckled softly, a sound meant to seem warm.
"Tomorrow, little impatient one. Today, rest, explore, and eat well."
The tone was almost paternal. If not for the vile aura emanating from the old man, Thiriel might have believed him sincere.
Upon entering the tower, they were assigned individual rooms on the third floor. The tower was surprisingly empty—only four apprentices, who watched them with curiosity. Thiriel recognized them from his memories as former orphans from Oakhaven.
The servants—about a dozen in total—carried their belongings to the rooms while others headed downstairs to the kitchens to prepare the meal. Their faces were expressionless. They all radiated weak but perfectly uniform malignant auras. Identical. As if they had all been molded from the same cast.
A chill ran down Thiriel's spine. Puppets. Or worse—hollow bodies animated by magic. The versatility of this power was terrifying.
Before retreating to his chambers at the top of the tower, Vexar gave them clear instructions.
"Do not stray far from the tower. The surrounding forests are full of beasts. Do not enter my personal quarters on the upper floor, nor the door that leads to the basement. Those areas are forbidden."
He handed Thiriel a thin manual bound in worn leather.
"Your sister will help me in the gardens. This manual will assist her in caring for them properly. The herbs are valuable and delicate."
Thiriel accepted it with a respectful bow.
While the others explored the tower, Thiriel and his sister walked the entire perimeter: the cultivated fields, the still lake, the edge of the forest encircling the tower. Everything seemed idyllic compared to life in the orphanage.
"Cae, remember to take good care of all the Master's gardens and plants. If you need help with anything, tell me," Thiriel said as he handed her the manual that explained the plants' care.
Caethiriel nodded solemnly, knowing this was a favor Master Vexar had granted thanks to Thiriel. She could not waste the opportunity to live a better life, one earned through her brother.
At nightfall, they gathered in the second-floor dining hall. The servants prepared an abundant dinner that made the new apprentices drool. The four senior apprentices shared their experiences in the tower, claiming the Master gave them a good life and that they should be grateful to him.
The orphans ate eagerly, laughing and speaking loudly for the first time in a long while. Thiriel watched the servants. Their movements were stiff. Their expressions were lifeless.
If he was right… if those bodies were mere shells animated by spells…
Magic was far more powerful—and far more dangerous—than he had ever imagined.
He could not waste time.
He had to learn quickly.
Strengthen his body in secret.
Discover Vexar's true objectives and protect Caethiriel at all costs.
And when the moment came, be ready to escape with his sister from the monster who had bought them all with a pouch of coins and a false smile.