The Forsaken Heir

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Aeloria estate. The training grounds, normally quiet at this hour, were alive with the sounds of clashing steel and the heavy breaths of two figures locked in combat. Lorian moved with purpose, his sword slicing through the air in precise arcs as he faced off against Captain Aric.

Captain Aric watched Lorian with sharp, calculating eyes. His movements were fluid and effortless as he parried Lorian's strikes with calm, precise ease. The captain's blade danced in the fading light, a blur of steel that seemed to anticipate Lorian's every move.

Lorian's brow furrowed in concentration, his muscles straining with each swing. He lunged forward, aiming a low strike at Aric's legs, only to have his blade deflected with a swift counter. Aric stepped back, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as Lorian recovered quickly, bringing his sword up to block the next attack.

"Good form, Lorian," Aric said, his voice steady despite the intensity of their sparring. "But remember, strength alone won't win you a fight. You need to use this more." He tapped his temple. "Anticipate your opponent's moves, feel their rhythm."

Lorian nodded, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. "I'm trying, Captain. It's just... hard to focus sometimes."

Lorian felt Aric's hand on his back, guiding him to straighten up. "Breathe through your nose," Aric advised, his smile widening. "Especially today, I'd imagine. Big day, isn't it? Sixteen years old, officially a man in the eyes of the kingdom."

Lorian couldn't help but smile himself. "I suppose so. Though I'm not sure I feel any different."

"Give it time. You'll start noticing the changes soon enough." Aric's tone turned teasing. "Especially when the young ladies from the other houses start paying more attention. You might have to fend them off with this sword of yours."

Lorian laughed, shaking his head while parrying Aric's sword. "I'm not sure that's something I need to worry about."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," Aric continued, dodging another swing. "You'll have your pick soon enough. Just make sure you don't trip over your own feet when they start batting their eyes at you."

Lorian rolled his eyes, though his smile didn't fade. "I think I'll be more focused on not embarrassing myself in front of my father tonight."

Aric's expression softened slightly. "Tonight's a big night, Lorian. Your father officially naming you as heir—it's a great honor. But don't let it weigh too heavily on you. You've earned this."

Lorian hesitated, his sword lowering slightly. "You really think so? Sometimes it feels like... like I haven't done enough to deserve it."

Aric stepped forward, placing a hand on Lorian's shoulder. "You've worked harder than anyone gives you credit for. You've got the marks of a true swordsman. With more training, you could even hold your own in the Kingdom's Grand Melee."

"The Grand Melee?" Lorian's eyes widened. The tournament was renowned across the kingdom, a competition where the finest young warriors clashed for glory. To compete in such an event was an honor few received, and fewer still survived the rigorous bouts unscathed.

Aric nodded, his expression serious now. "You've got potential, Lorian. But potential means nothing without the will to hone it. The Grand Melee is a chance to prove yourself, to show the world what you're capable of."

Lorian looked down at his sword, the weight of Aric's words settling over him like a mantle. Competing in the Grand Melee was a daunting prospect, but the spark of determination in his chest flared to life. This was more than just a tournament; it was a chance to carve out his place in a world where he had always felt overshadowed.

"Do you think I'm ready?" Lorian asked, meeting Aric's gaze.

"You're closer than you think," Aric replied. "But the decision is yours. You've got the skill; now you just need the confidence to match it."

Lorian took a deep breath, the scent of the earth and the fading light grounding him in the moment. "I'll do it," he said finally, the resolve in his voice clear. "I'll compete in the upcoming Grand Melee."

Aric's smile widened, a rare full smile that softened his normally stern features. "Then we've got work to do," he said, clapping Lorian on the back. "Make sure to turn in at a decent time tonight. Tomorrow, we'll start preparing for the challenge ahead."

"And tonight?" Lorian asked, sheathing his sword.

"One step at a time. Tonight, enjoy your party," Aric said with a wink. "And remember what I said about the ladies. They're all going to be watching you closely tonight. Try not to blush too much."

Aric patted his back as they walked back toward the barracks.

Lorian chuckled, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, he couldn't help but feel that this was the beginning of something important—something that would finally give him the chance to prove himself, not just to his family, but to the world.

"I'm not a failure," he mumbled to himself as he turned toward the castle to get ready for the party that was only a few short hours away.

The warm water of the bath soothed Lorian's aching muscles, the steam curling around him like a comforting embrace. He leaned back against the smooth stone edge of the tub, letting the heat seep into his bones. The training session with Captain Aric had taken its toll, both physically and mentally. His body was sore from the intense sparring, and his mind was a whirl of thoughts about the upcoming party and the weight of expectations that came with it.

He closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, but the quiet of the room and the warmth of the water had the opposite effect. The exhaustion from the day tugged at him, and before he knew it, he drifted off into a restless sleep.

Lorian found himself in the familiar gardens of the Aeloria estate, the sun shining brightly overhead. The vibrant colors of the flowers and the gentle hum of magic in the air filled him with a sense of nostalgia. He was younger, perhaps six or seven, and standing beside him was his sister, Elara, who was just a couple of years younger.

"Watch this, Elara!" young Lorian said excitedly. He had been practicing his light magic for weeks, determined to impress their parents later at dinner. His small hands stretched out toward a cluster of flowers, his brow furrowing in concentration. After a moment, a faint light flickered around the petals—a small success, but to Lorian, it felt like a triumph. "What do you think?" he asked.

Elara watched with wide, curious eyes. She had always been captivated by her older brother's attempts at magic, even if they were sometimes met with frustration. But today, Lorian had succeeded, and she clapped her hands together in delight.

"Now you try," Lorian encouraged, his chest puffed up with pride. He felt like a true teacher, guiding his little sister in her first steps toward becoming a mage.

Elara looked uncertain at first. She had never tried to use magic before, and the idea of failing in front of her big brother made her hesitate. But after a moment, her curiosity got the better of her. She imitated Lorian's movements, her small hands reaching out toward the flowers.

Lorian's eyes widened in surprise as the flowers immediately glowed with a much sharper intensity, far stronger and more radiant than his own attempt. Elara's eyes lit up with joy as she saw the flowers react to her magic. It had been effortless, almost instinctive.

Lorian felt his smile falter as he stared at the flowers. A wave of emotions crashed over him—pride for his sister, yes, but also something darker. How had she done that so easily? He had struggled for weeks to achieve even a flicker of light, and yet Elara, on her very first try, had outshone him without even trying. He glanced toward his parents, hoping they had seen his earlier success.

But their attention was entirely on Elara. Lady Seraphine and Lord Thaddeus walked over, their faces lit up with pride and amazement.

"Did you see that?" Lady Seraphine exclaimed, her eyes shining with joy. "Elara, you're a natural!"

Lord Thaddeus nodded, a rare smile breaking across his stern features. "Indeed. Such talent at such a young age... Elara, you might just become the greatest mage our family has ever produced."

Lorian's heart clenched at his father's words. Pride for his sister warred with a growing sense of inadequacy and, for the first time, envy. He wanted to be amazed by her success, to share in the excitement—but it was hard to ignore the sting of his own efforts being overshadowed.

As Lady Seraphine knelt down to hug Elara, she caught sight of Lorian standing quietly to the side. "You did well too, Lorian," she said gently, offering him a smile.

Lorian quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeves. "Thanks, Mother," he mumbled, forcing a smile. But the joy of his earlier success had already faded, replaced by a gnawing doubt. Why was it so easy for Elara and so difficult for him?

"Keep practicing, Lorian," Lord Thaddeus added, though his tone lacked the warmth he had shown to Elara. "Magic comes differently to everyone. You'll get there."

Lorian nodded, trying to take his father's words to heart, but they offered little comfort. The flowers, still glowing brightly under Elara's influence, seemed to mock his efforts. His pride in his sister was real, but it was overshadowed by a seed of jealousy that took root in his heart.

As the memory began to fade, the scene shifted. Lorian, now older, stood on the edge of the garden, watching from the shadows as Elara effortlessly performed a complex spell during one of their lessons. She was surrounded by light, her magic flowing like a river of brilliance. Their father stood nearby, his expression clearly one of pride and admiration.

But this time, something was different. As Lorian watched, the light around Elara began to grow brighter—too bright, blindingly so. He squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes, but the light only intensified. Panic began to rise in his chest. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.

The garden around him started to change. The vibrant colors of the flowers began to drain away, leaving behind wilted, colorless petals. The once-warm sunlight turned harsh and cold, casting long, distorted shadows across the ground. Lorian's heart pounded in his chest as he felt the darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision, swallowing the light and warmth of the garden.

He took a step back, his breath quickening. The shadows seemed to reach out toward him, curling around his feet, pulling him into the growing darkness. His father's voice echoed in his ears, but the words were muffled, distant, as if coming from the other side of a deep chasm.

But then, the voice was clear, cutting through the cold silence like a knife.

"You're a failure, Lorian," his father's voice said, harsh and unforgiving. "You'll never lead the Aeloria family. The light was never meant for you."

Lorian's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He stumbled back further as the ground beneath him began to crumble away, revealing an endless abyss below. The shadows wrapped around him, pulling him down, down into the darkness.

"Father, please!" Lorian called out, his voice trembling with fear and desperation. He reached out, his hand grasping at nothing as he fell into the void.

But just as he was about to be completely engulfed, his father's figure appeared at the edge of the abyss, his face cold and stern. For a brief moment, Lorian felt a flicker of hope as his father's hand shot out, catching his wrist and halting his fall.

"You're not worthy," Lord Thaddeus said, his grip tightening painfully on Lorian's wrist. "You'll never be worthy. The Aeloria name, the legacy—it's not for you. You've failed me, and you've failed this family."

Lorian's heart pounded in his chest, tears welling in his eyes as his father's words cut deep into his soul. "No, Father, please—I'll do better! I can do better!"

But Lord Thaddeus's expression didn't soften. Instead, his gaze hardened with cold finality. "It's too late, Lorian. You're nothing but a shadow."

And with that, he released Lorian's wrist, letting him fall into the abyss. Lorian's scream echoed in the darkness as he plunged deeper and deeper, the cold shadows wrapping around him, suffocating him, pulling him further into the void.

Just as he was about to hit the bottom, Lorian's eyes snapped open as he was jolted awake by a soft knock on the bathroom door. He gasped, his heart pounding, and realized he was still in the bath, the water now lukewarm.

"Lorian?" His mother's voice called gently from the other side of the door. "Are you alright in there? The party has already started, and everyone's been asking where you are."

Lorian sat up, still trembling from the remnants of the nightmare. "I must have dozed off," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. The weight of the day's exhaustion still pressed down on him, now compounded by the lingering terror of the dream.

Lady Seraphine's voice carried a mix of concern and understanding. "It's been a long day for you. But tonight is important, Lorian, and I know you'll do wonderfully."

Lorian took a deep breath, letting the steam from the bath ease his lingering tension. "I'll be out in a minute, Mother," he called back, his voice shaking slightly.

"Alright," she replied, her tone soft. "I'll see you downstairs."

As her footsteps faded away, Lorian stared at the water, the dream still vivid in his mind. His father's harsh words echoed in his ears, filling him with a sense of dread that he couldn't quite shake. He couldn't afford to dwell on the past tonight. This was his chance to prove himself—to his family, and to himself.

Pulling himself out of the bath, Lorian quickly dried off and dressed for the party. As he tied the laces of his formal tunic, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. A tall, handsome man with black hair and the Aeloria family's trademark golden eyes stared back. He carefully pinned a golden flower boutonnière to his tunic, the bloom a symbol of his house's legacy and pride. The boy in the garden felt like a lifetime ago, but the feelings of inadequacy remained, buried deep beneath the surface. Lorian tightened his fist and thought, Tonight, I will push them aside. Tonight, I will step out of the shadows.

The grand hall of the Aeloria estate was aglow with the warm light of chandeliers, their brilliance reflecting off the polished marble floors. Lorian descended the sweeping staircase, his heart beating a steady rhythm in his chest. The golden flower boutonnière pinned to his tunic served as a small but significant reminder of the expectations placed upon him tonight.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted by the sight of many familiar faces—nobles and dignitaries from across the kingdom, all gathered to celebrate his coming of age. Lorian recognized many of them from the parties his family had hosted when he was a child, though most had become distant memories. Some had been friends once, but as the years passed, their attention had shifted to Elara, the true prodigy of the Aeloria family.

Lorian's eyes scanned the room, quickly picking out three familiar faces that brought back bittersweet memories: Julian Veldt, Lady Celeste Leclair, and Lady Vivienne Valenwood. Each of them hailed from noble houses that served the Royal family, much like the Aelorias. Their families were known for their exceptional magical talents and long-standing loyalty to the crown.

The trio was gathered around Elara, their voices hushed and their postures slightly turned away from the crowd, as if trying to avoid being overheard. Julian, ever the charmer, leaned closer to Elara with a conspiratorial smile. "You know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's curious that this evening isn't in your honor. Given your talents, it seems... natural."

Celeste nodded, her eyes scanning the room cautiously before settling back on Elara. "I was thinking the same," she murmured. "You're the brightest star here, Elara. Anyone with eyes can see that."

Vivienne, more reserved but just as perceptive, added quietly, "If it were up to me, you'd be the one named heir tonight. It's not about tradition—it's about who's truly fit to lead."

Elara's smile faded slightly, and she shook her head gently, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features. "You're kind, but this night isn't about me," she whispered back, her tone soft yet firm. "It's Lorian's night, and he's earned it."

Julian raised an eyebrow, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Of course, Elara," he replied smoothly, though there was a slight hesitation before he spoke. "We only want what's best for the kingdom."

Celeste gave a slight nod, her expression thoughtful as she glanced toward Lorian. "And if you believe in him, then we'll stand by him too," she added quietly, but there was a subtle shift in her tone, a hint of reluctance that didn't escape Vivienne's notice.

Vivienne quickly echoed Celeste's sentiment, her agreement coming a bit too quickly. "We're with you, Elara. Whatever you think is best," she said, but the way her eyes briefly flicked to Julian before returning to Elara suggested otherwise.

Elara, however, seemed to take their words at face value, offering them a warm, if slightly relieved, smile. "Thank you," she whispered. "He needs all the support he can get tonight."

The trio exchanged brief, knowing glances—quick, almost imperceptible to anyone not paying close attention. Their polite smiles returned, but the undercurrent of their earlier conversation lingered in the air, unspoken but understood among them.

Lorian sighed as he observed the group. He had heard enough to understand the doubt his old friends had about him, but seeing Elara stand up for him brought a mix of emotions—relief, gratitude, and a pang of guilt. Despite everything, she still believed in him, and that was something he couldn't take for granted.

"Guess I don't need to ask what's on your mind," a familiar voice said from behind.

Lorian turned to see Caelan Blackwood approaching, a slight grin on his face. "You've got that brooding look again," Caelan teased lightly as he clapped a hand on Lorian's shoulder. "Staring at those turncoats?"

Lorian managed a small smile. "Seems like everyone's in her orbit now," he replied, nodding toward the group surrounding Elara. "But... she still believes in me."

Caelan glanced over at the gathering, then back at Lorian. "Well, that's because she knows what you're capable of. You're not just a shadow, Lorian. You've got your own light—you just need to see it too."

Lorian flinched at the word shadow, a flicker of unease crossing his face. It was too close to the word his father had used in the dream, and the memory sent a chill through him. He quickly tried to shake off the feeling, hoping Caelan hadn't noticed.

"Maybe," Lorian said, his voice a bit quieter now. "But it's hard not to feel like a shadow when everyone's so focused on her light."

Caelan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Then don't compare yourself to her, Lorian. You've always been different, and that's not a bad thing. You're a natural leader, and you've got the kind of determination that most people only wish they had."

Lorian sighed, the weight of Caelan's words settling over him. "Maybe you're right. But tonight, it's hard to see past it."

Caelan nodded, understanding. "Then don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Just be yourself, and let the rest fall into place. This is your night too, Lorian. Don't let it slip away."

Lorian felt a small but growing sense of resolve. "Thanks, Caelan. I needed that."

Caelan grinned again, this time more broadly. "Anytime. Now, let's get through this night together. And who knows? Maybe we'll even have a little fun."

Lorian smiled, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders. With Caelan by his side, the evening didn't seem quite so daunting. As the two friends moved through the crowd, Lorian couldn't help but think that, despite everything, tonight might not be so bad after all.

Lorian and Caelan moved through the crowd, exchanging polite greetings and nods with the various nobles who acknowledged them. Despite Caelan's efforts to keep Lorian's spirits up, the young heir couldn't shake the feeling of being overlooked, not just by his sister but by the expectations and whispers that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

As they wandered through the hall, Lorian's attention was drawn to Captain Aric, who was standing near one of the grand pillars, engaged in conversation with an older, rugged-looking man dressed in military attire. The man had an air of quiet authority, his broad shoulders and stern expression softened by the occasional smile that reached his eyes as he spoke with Aric.

Noticing Lorian, Captain Aric waved him over with a warm smile. "Lorian! Come here, lad," Aric called out, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the party.

Lorian approached with Caelan by his side, feeling a bit more at ease in the presence of his mentor. "Captain Aric," Lorian greeted, his tone respectful.

Aric clapped Lorian on the back in his usual friendly manner. "Lorian, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Commander Garrick Stone. Garrick and I served together many years ago, and he's one of the finest men I've ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside."

Commander Stone extended his hand to Lorian, his grip firm. "It's an honor to meet you, Lorian," he said, his voice deep and steady. "Aric here has told me a lot about you."

Lorian shook his hand, trying to mask his surprise. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I hope Aric hasn't exaggerated too much."

Stone chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. "If anything, he's been too modest in his praise. From what I've heard, you've got a natural talent with the sword, and you're as dedicated as they come. That's not something you see every day, especially among young nobles."

Lorian felt a swell of pride at the unexpected compliment. "Thank you, Commander. I still have a lot to learn, but I'm doing my best."

Aric nodded approvingly. "Lorian's got the makings of a great swordsman, Garrick. He's not just skilled—he's got the discipline and heart to back it up. I've watched him grow over the years, and I'm confident he'll make the Aeloria name proud."

Stone's gaze softened, and he gave Lorian a reassuring smile. "You've got a good man teaching you, Lorian. If you keep at it, I have no doubt you'll be a force to be reckoned with. It's a shame you're a noble, though," Stone added with a hint of regret in his voice. "We're always in need of well-disciplined soldiers on the battlefield, but nobles like yourself are usually reserved for command or to unleash their magic from a distance. We could use more men like you in the thick of it."

Lorian was taken aback by the comment, unsure how to respond at first. "Thank you, Commander," he finally said, feeling a mix of pride and something else—something that made him wonder if there was more he could be doing. "I appreciate your words. I'll do everything I can to live up to them."

As they continued to chat, Lorian found himself relaxing a bit more, the weight of the evening's expectations momentarily lifted by the support of Captain Aric and Commander Stone. But before long, another ripple of excitement passed through the room, drawing everyone's attention toward the entrance of the hall.

The large double doors swung open, and the herald announced the arrival of the Royal Family.

"Their Majesties, King Aldric and Queen Eveline of Aldoria, and their daughter, Princess Selene."

The room fell into a respectful silence as the Royal Family entered, their presence commanding attention. King Aldric, a tall man with graying hair and a commanding presence, led the way with his queen on his arm. Queen Eveline was elegant and regal, her gaze sweeping the room with practiced grace.

But it was Princess Selene who truly captured Lorian's attention. She was stunning, her long dark hair cascading in waves down her back, her gown a deep shade of blue that made her eyes seem even more striking. She moved with a grace that spoke of both poise and strength, her head held high as she acknowledged the guests with a polite smile.

As the Royal Family made their way into the hall, Lorian found himself unable to look away from Selene. She was beautiful, yes, but there was something more—an air of quiet confidence that drew him in, making his heart beat faster. When their eyes met across the room, it was as though the rest of the world fell away, leaving only the two of them in that brief, electric moment.

Selene's gaze lingered on Lorian for just a moment longer than necessary before she looked away, her expression unreadable. But in that brief exchange, Lorian felt a pang in his heart, a longing that he couldn't quite explain. She was a princess, the daughter of the king, far beyond his reach in so many ways. And yet, the connection he felt in that moment was undeniable.

"Looks like you're not the only one who's been captivated," Caelan muttered beside him, having noticed the exchange. "I'd be careful with that one, Lorian. The princess isn't someone you can afford to get tangled up with, no matter how pretty she is."

Lorian tore his gaze away from Selene, his heart still racing. "I know," he replied quietly. "But it's not that simple, Caelan."

"It never is," Caelan said with a sigh, clapping Lorian on the back again. "But tonight's not the night to start a royal scandal, so keep your head straight."

Lorian nodded, trying to focus on the party and not the princess whose image seemed to have burned itself into his mind. As the night wore on, he found himself going through the motions, greeting nobles, exchanging pleasantries, and accepting compliments with a smile that felt increasingly forced.

The Royal Family made their rounds, speaking with various dignitaries and nobles, and Lorian found himself watching Selene from afar whenever he could steal a glance. Despite Caelan's warning, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her, as though some invisible thread was pulling them together.

Finally, as the evening began to wind down, the Royal Family made their way toward Lorian and his parents. King Aldric greeted Lord Thaddeus and Lady Seraphine warmly, engaging in a brief conversation about the state of the kingdom and the upcoming plans for the Aeloria family. Lorian stood beside his father, trying to appear composed as he awaited his turn to greet the king.

When the king turned to him, Lorian bowed deeply. "Your Majesty," he said respectfully.

"Lorian," King Aldric replied, his tone measured. "I've heard much about you. Tonight is a significant milestone in your life. I trust you are ready to uphold the Aeloria name with honor."

Lorian straightened, meeting the king's gaze. "I will do my best, Your Majesty."

The king nodded approvingly, but it was Selene who caught Lorian's attention again. She stepped forward, offering a polite smile as she inclined her head. "Lord Lorian," she said, her voice soft but clear. "Congratulations on your coming of age. I wish you success in all your endeavors."

Lorian felt his heart skip a beat. "Thank you, Your Highness," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

As Selene looked at him, Lorian could have sworn he saw a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper. But the moment passed quickly, and she turned away to continue with her family.

As the Royal Family moved on, Lorian stood there for a moment, still reeling from the encounter. Caelan's voice brought him back to reality.

"See? No scandal. You did good," Caelan said with a smirk.

Lorian smiled faintly, though his thoughts were still on the princess. "Yeah... no scandal," he echoed, though he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted within him.

The grand hall buzzed with anticipation as the night reached its climax. The time had come for the announcement that everyone had been waiting for—the official naming of the Aeloria heir. The air was thick with expectation, and Lorian could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

He stood beside his parents at the front of the hall, his heart pounding in his chest. His father, Lord Thaddeus, looked as composed as ever, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the gathered nobles. Lady Seraphine stood with a serene smile, while Elara, radiant in her gown, stood quietly beside their mother. Lorian could see the glint of encouragement in her golden eyes, the same encouragement she had always offered him.

The room fell silent as King Alduin stepped forward, his regal presence commanding the attention of everyone in attendance. "Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate Lord Lorian's coming of age but also to witness a significant moment for House Aeloria," the king began, his voice carrying across the hall. "The naming of the heir, who will carry on the legacy of this esteemed house."

Lorian swallowed hard, the gravity of the moment settling over him. This was it—the moment he had been preparing for his entire life. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. But just as he prepared to step forward, his father raised a hand, signaling for him to wait.

"Tonight is indeed a night of great importance," Lord Thaddeus announced, his voice steady but carrying an unexpected edge. "For sixteen years, we have awaited this moment, the moment when we name the heir who will carry forth the Aeloria legacy."

Lorian felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he listened to his father's words. There was something in his tone that set him on edge, something that hinted at a shift he hadn't anticipated.

Lord Thaddeus turned to face the gathered nobles, his gaze sweeping over them before resting on his daughter. "As you all know, tradition dictates that the firstborn son of the house is named heir," he continued, his words deliberate. "However, there are times when tradition must yield to the realities before us."

Lorian's mind flashed back to the dream he had earlier—his father's voice echoing in his ears, harsh and unforgiving: "You're a failure, Lorian. The light was never meant for you."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the first hints of surprise and curiosity spreading among the nobles. Lorian's heart pounded in his chest, the knot in his stomach tightening further. He glanced at Elara, who now looked as confused as he was.

Elara's eyes widened, her smile fading as her gaze darted from their father to Lorian. She shook her head slightly, clearly not understanding what was happening. The confident composure she had shown earlier was now replaced with visible shock, her hands trembling slightly as she clasped them together.

Lord Thaddeus's voice took on a colder, almost distant tone as he continued. "Lorian," he said, his gaze briefly locking with his son's before turning away. "You have always tried your best, but sometimes, our best is not enough. The Aeloria name, the legacy—it's not for everyone."

The words struck Lorian like a physical blow, mirroring the cruel taunt from his nightmare. His father's voice from the dream echoed in his mind: "You'll never lead the Aeloria family."

"Tonight, I am breaking with tradition," Lord Thaddeus declared, his voice growing firmer. "For the good of House Aeloria and the future of our lineage, I name my daughter, Elara Aeloria, as the heir to this house."

A collective gasp echoed through the hall, followed by a hushed silence as the weight of Lord Thaddeus's words settled over the crowd. Lorian stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what he had just heard. Elara... the heir?

Elara stood rooted to the spot, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. She turned to Lorian, her eyes searching his for some kind of explanation, but found only the same shock and confusion she felt. She glanced at their mother, who gave her a reassuring nod, but the comfort did little to ease the sudden tension that had gripped her.

King Aldric, ever composed, stepped forward once more. "In accordance with the customs of Aldoria," he intoned, "I recognize Lady Elara Aeloria as the rightful heir of House Aeloria. May she lead with wisdom and strength."

The king's words were like a hammer blow, sealing the decision and leaving no room for doubt. Lorian's mind raced, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm him—shock, confusion, anger, and something deeper, a sense of betrayal that cut him to the core.

The nobles around the room began to murmur again, some in surprise, others in agreement. Many had suspected that Elara, with her exceptional talents, might be named the heir, but the reality of it was still a shock to some. Yet, as Lorian scanned the faces around him, he saw that most of them were nodding, as if this decision was the natural course of events.

His chest tightened, the air in the room suddenly feeling suffocating. Lorian's gaze flickered to his father, searching for some sign, some explanation. But Lord Thaddeus's expression remained impassive, his decision final.

As Elara stepped forward to acknowledge the king's recognition, Lorian felt a cold weight settle in the pit of his stomach. This was supposed to be his moment—his night. But instead, it had been taken from him, the future he had envisioned slipping through his fingers like sand.

Elara's voice trembled slightly as she addressed the crowd, trying to find her footing in the sudden shift. "Thank you, Father," she said quietly, her tone laced with uncertainty. "I... I will do my best to honor this responsibility."

Her words were met with polite applause, though Lorian could barely hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. He forced himself to remain still, to maintain his composure, even as his world tilted on its axis.

But just as he thought the night couldn't become more surreal, his father turned to him, his gaze locking with Lorian's. "Lorian," Lord Thaddeus said, his voice carrying a weight that made Lorian's heart sink further. "You will continue to serve this house, not as its heir, but as a guardian—a protector of your sister and this family."

Lorian's breath caught in his throat, the dream's final, haunting words resurfacing: "It's too late, Lorian. You're nothing but a shadow."

The finality of his father's declaration echoed in Lorian's mind, the full extent of his father's decision crashing down on him. Not only had he been passed over as heir, but now his role was to ensure Elara's success—to support and protect the sister who had just taken his place.

For a moment, Lorian felt the world around him blur, his vision narrowing to the cold, unyielding expression on his father's face. He wanted to scream, to protest, to demand an explanation. But no words came, his throat constricting with the weight of everything he had just lost.

As the applause continued, Lorian's gaze dropped to the floor, the reality of his situation sinking in. This was his life now—a life he hadn't chosen, a role he hadn't wanted.