The Forsaken Heir

Lorian stood for a moment longer in the quiet of the academy’s grand library, trying to steady his breath after his unexpected encounter with Princess Selene. His heart still raced, a mix of awe and nervous excitement coursing through him. He hadn’t anticipated running into her tonight, much less having such an intense and personal conversation. The weight of her words stayed with him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the lingering flutter of excitement.

He finally shook his head, smiling to himself as he made his way to the library’s exit. “I’ve got to stay focused,” he muttered, though the memory of her violet eyes and silver hair danced in his thoughts.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, Lorian felt a gentle breeze brush past him, carrying the faint sounds of other students still lingering in the academy’s courtyards. He let out a sigh, grateful for the quiet and the chance to gather his thoughts. The academy grounds, normally bustling during the day, had taken on a more serene atmosphere as night approached. The faint flicker of torches along the paths and the soft hum of evening conversations made it feel like the academy itself was winding down, readying for the night.

Lorian began making his way back to his dorm, feeling the fatigue of the day creeping up on him. His muscles still ached from his duel, and despite his encounter with Selene, he couldn’t ignore how worn out he felt. As he neared the door to his old dorm, Lorian reached for the handle out of habit but then paused, his hand hovering just above it.

His eyes drifted down to the Bronze Griffin Pin still fastened to his chest. A flicker of memory stirred, and he turned the pin over in his hand, noticing something he hadn’t seen before—a small engraving on the back.

“Room 237…” he muttered.

Realization hit him. The Bronze Griffin Pin wasn’t just a badge of honor—it came with perks. He wasn’t going back to the common dormitories tonight. He’d been assigned to the Bronze Hall, an entirely new living area reserved for students who had earned their Bronze Griffin Pin.

With a small, excited grin, Lorian spun on his heel and began retracing his steps, now on the hunt for his new room. As he walked, he couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of pride. The Bronze Hall might not be as prestigious as the Magister Wing where Elara and the elite students stayed, but it was a clear sign of progress—one that set him apart from those who hadn’t yet earned their pins.

After a few minutes of wandering through the academy’s vast corridors, Lorian found himself in front of a heavy wooden door marked with the same number engraved on his pin: Room 237. The hallway was quieter than the bustling dormitories he’d passed before, and a sense of privacy lingered in the air.

Taking a deep breath, Lorian pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The difference was immediately noticeable. The room was much larger than his old dorm, and while it wasn’t as lavish as Elara’s quarters in the Magister Wing, it was certainly more than he’d expected. The bed, in particular, caught his attention. Its frame was made of solid oak, and the mattress looked incredibly inviting—far better than the stiff, uncomfortable bed he’d endured on his first night.

Lorian crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, sinking into the soft fabric with a content sigh. A smile tugged at his lips as he laid back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Well, this is a major upgrade from that brick I slept on my first night,” he muttered with a chuckle, already feeling the day’s fatigue starting to melt away.

The room itself was modestly furnished but functional—there was a sturdy desk by the window, a small wardrobe, and shelves where he could place his belongings. It wasn’t overly fancy, but everything about it felt purposeful. There was even a small window that overlooked one of the academy’s courtyards, the moonlight filtering in and casting soft shadows across the floor.

After a few moments of lying there, Lorian got up and began unpacking his few belongings. He placed his sword, Caelan’s gift, on the rack near the door, running his fingers over the hilt as he did so. A quiet moment of reflection passed over him as he thought of his friend, still hard at work back in Aelshire, probably hammering away at some new weapon. He smiled again, making a mental note to write to Caelan soon and let him know how things were going.

Once his things were in order, Lorian changed into more comfortable clothes and stretched out on the bed, feeling the weight of the day settle over him. The mattress cradled his sore muscles perfectly, and as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. The bed was leagues better than the one in the common dorm he had slept in on his first night. It was like upgrading from sleeping on a wooden bench to a cloud. If I’d known beds like this existed, I might have pushed myself even harder, he thought with a faint smile.

His mind drifted as sleep quickly claimed him, replaying the day’s events—his conversation with Varian, the encounter with Princess Selene in the library, and the sense of clarity that had come with each decision he made. The soft sounds of the academy’s evening activities faded outside his window, replaced by the quiet hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of wind in the trees. Within minutes, Lorian was out cold, his breathing deep and even as he sank further into the plush comfort of his bed.

Lorian woke to the gentle light of dawn seeping through the curtains. He blinked a few times, then stretched, feeling completely refreshed. The aches and soreness from the previous day were gone, replaced by a newfound energy. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and let out a contented sigh, the soft sheets still tangled around him. This bed is dangerous. I could sleep in it forever.

The thought made him chuckle as he swung his legs over the side and got to his feet. Better not get too used to it—there’s a full day ahead. Today was Wednesday, which meant Mana Control class, followed by Tactics and Strategy. He knew he’d have to face his weaknesses in magic head-on, but there was no avoiding it.

After quickly dressing and strapping his sword to his side, Lorian made his way out into the brisk morning air. The academy grounds were just starting to come to life. Students were trickling out of their rooms, heading to the dining hall or their early morning classes. The scent of fresh bread and spiced tea wafted through the air, making Lorian’s stomach growl in response.

Deciding not to waste any time, he made his way to the dining hall, grabbing a tray and piling it high with food. He wolfed down his breakfast, barely tasting it in his hurry to get some sustenance before class. Bread, fruit, and some sort of hot porridge—it all went down in a blur. Lorian wasn’t a slow eater on a normal day, but today he devoured his food with purpose.

With breakfast out of the way, he wiped his mouth and stood, feeling a little more prepared to tackle the day. The dining hall was buzzing with energy as more students streamed in, but Lorian didn’t linger. He had his first class—Mana Control—starting soon, and he didn’t want to be late. Especially not when he knew he’d be walking into Class 5, the lowest level for mana control at the academy.

The thought stung a little. Lorian had always been strong in physical combat and tactical thinking, but when it came to controlling external mana, his abilities were subpar compared to his peers. It was the one area where he was undeniably weaker. The reminder of his low ranking in the subject weighed on him as he made his way across the academy grounds.

The class was held in one of the older wings of the academy, a building with worn stone steps and moss creeping up the edges of the walls. As Lorian approached, he could already hear voices inside—students chatting quietly while waiting for the instructor to arrive. Taking a deep breath, Lorian pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped into the classroom.

The room was modest, with rows of desks and a large open space at the front where practical exercises would take place. Several students were already seated, some practicing with mana orbs, while others seemed more relaxed, clearly more comfortable with their skills than Lorian felt.

His eyes flicked to the side of the room, where a large plaque displayed the class rankings. Class 5 was listed at the bottom, a stark reminder of his current standing. Lorian wasn’t used to being at the lower end of anything, and seeing his name among the other Class 5 students made him feel like he had more to prove.

He chose a seat toward the back, not wanting to draw too much attention to himself. As he sat down, he noticed a few of the other students glancing his way, some whispering to each other. Great, he thought, they probably know I’m a Bronze Griffin Pin holder in Class 5 for mana control.

Lorian exhaled, shaking off the self-conscious thoughts. He was here to learn, not to worry about what others thought of him. If anything, he’d use this class to push himself harder. He could improve. He would improve.

As the minutes ticked by, the instructor—a tall, lean man with sharp eyes and a calm demeanor—entered the room. He gave a brief nod to the class, immediately silencing the students with his presence. His dark robes shifted as he walked, each movement precise, as if he measured every step. His piercing green eyes scanned the room with a quiet authority, and a thin scar on his left cheek suggested he had experience well beyond the classroom.

“Welcome to Mana Control,” he began, his voice measured and clear. “Those of you in this class are here because you lack the precision and control necessary for higher-level spellwork. But let me be clear—every student who enters Class 5 has the potential to rise. It will not be easy, but the effort you put in will determine your success.”

Lorian straightened in his seat, listening intently. The instructor’s words resonated with him. He wasn’t here by accident—he had gaps in his skillset, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t overcome them.

The instructor continued, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Today, we’ll be focusing on the basics of external mana control. For those of you who struggle with maintaining a steady flow, this will be your foundation. Without mastering this, you will never advance. Now, form pairs and begin your exercises.”

Lorian paired up with a student sitting nearby, a quiet girl who nodded politely but didn’t say much. They were tasked with channeling mana through their hands and into small orbs of light that the instructor had placed on their desks. The goal was simple—keep the orb glowing steadily for five minutes. But as soon as Lorian tried to channel his mana, he felt the familiar surge of instability. His orb flickered and dimmed within seconds.

Frustration bubbled up inside him as he glanced at his partner. Her orb glowed with a soft, steady light, as if the task was second nature to her. He, on the other hand, could barely keep his magic flowing.

Come on, focus, he urged himself, taking a deep breath. He tried again, focusing on the sensation of his mana moving through his body. He could feel it, the energy pulsing in his veins, but directing it outward, into something as simple as an orb of light, felt like trying to hold water in his hands. It slipped away from him, too wild and unpredictable.

After a few more failed attempts, Lorian felt his frustration growing. He glanced around the room, noticing that some of the other students were also struggling, but most had their orbs glowing steadily. He wasn’t the only one finding it difficult, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

I’m better than this, he thought, gritting his teeth. I can do this.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Instead of forcing the mana, he let himself focus on the sensation of it moving naturally through his body. He had always been good at internal mana control—channeling it into his muscles during combat, reinforcing his strikes with raw energy. Maybe that was the key.

Instead of pushing the mana outward, he let it gather slowly, like drawing a bowstring, until he felt the tension ready to release. Then, with careful precision, he directed it into the orb.

This time, the orb flickered to life, a soft glow emanating from it. It wasn’t perfect—it still wavered—but it was better than before. The progress, however small, gave him a surge of determination. He wasn’t where he needed to be yet, but he was getting there.

But just as he felt a small surge of accomplishment, the resistance hit again, like an invisible wall. No matter how he tried to push past it, his mana slowed, the orb flickering out once more. It was as though something deep inside was working against him—some unseen force holding him back.

What is this? he thought, his frustration building as he gripped the edge of the desk. His internal control had always come easily, so why was external magic so impossible? He could feel the mana there, right under his skin, but it was like trying to break through a locked door without a key.

The minutes dragged on, and with each failed attempt, Lorian’s frustration mounted. His orb remained dark and dull, while the other students’ orbs glowed steadily. He could feel their eyes on him, the weight of their silent judgment pressing in on him.

Finally, the instructor called for the end of class. Lorian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, slumping slightly in his seat. His hands were still shaking, and his chest felt tight. He had spent the entire class pushing against something he couldn’t even understand, and the effort had left him exhausted and defeated.

The instructor dismissed the students, and Lorian packed up his things, his thoughts clouded with frustration. His orb, still dark and lifeless, seemed to mock him from the desk.

As he made his way out of the classroom, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong—something deeper than just his lack of skill. There was a barrier there, subtle but impenetrable, and until he figured out how to break through it, he was stuck.