The Forsaken Heir

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. The night that had begun with such hope and promise had ended in a nightmare, one that Lorian couldn’t wake from.

But he couldn’t stay here, not while everyone’s eyes were on Elara, showering her with praise that should have been his. The walls of the grand hall seemed to close in on him, the air thick with the weight of expectations he no longer had the strength to bear.

Before he could think better of it, Lorian turned on his heel and fled the hall, slipping through the crowd as quietly as he could. No one noticed him leaving; all attention was on Elara, the new heir to House Aeloria. Lorian pushed through the doors and out into the cool night air, the darkness outside offering a cold comfort as he broke into a run.

The estate’s gardens blurred past him as he ran, his feet pounding against the gravel paths. His mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions, none of which he could fully grasp. All he knew was that he needed to get away—from the hall, from his family, from the future that had been taken from him.

Lorian’s feet carried him instinctively to the training fields, the place where he had spent countless hours honing his skills under Captain Aric’s watchful eye. The soldiers were long gone, the field empty under the dim light of the moon, but the familiar sight brought him no comfort. He didn’t stop until he reached one of the wooden training posts, its surface worn from years of practice strikes.

Without thinking, Lorian lashed out at the post with his fists, the wood splintering under his blows. Again and again, he struck, each hit fueled by the anger and frustration boiling inside him. The pain in his knuckles barely registered, drowned out by the turmoil in his heart.

Time became a blur as he continued to punch the post, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. He didn’t know how long he had been there—minutes, hours, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the physical release of his emotions, the only way he knew how to deal with the betrayal that had shattered his world.

Eventually, his strength began to wane, and he collapsed against the post, his forehead resting against the rough wood. His hands were bloodied, the skin torn and raw, but it was the hollowness in his eyes that spoke to the depth of his despair.

It was then that he heard footsteps approaching from behind, soft but steady. Lorian didn’t bother to turn around, too drained to care who had found him.

“I thought I might find you here,” came Captain Aric’s voice, calm and steady, yet laced with a hint of sorrow.

Lorian didn’t respond, his eyes staring blankly ahead as he slumped against the post. The anger that had fueled him was gone, leaving behind only an empty void.

Aric approached him slowly, taking in the sight of Lorian’s bloodied fists and the way his shoulders trembled with exhaustion. “Lorian…” Aric said softly, his voice tinged with concern.

Lorian closed his eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “He said I wasn’t worthy,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “He said I’d never lead the family… and then he named Elara as heir. Just like that.”

Aric’s heart ached at the sight of the young man before him, so full of potential yet so broken by the night’s events. He placed a hand on Lorian’s shoulder, feeling the tension that still held him in its grip. “I saw what happened, Lorian. I’m sorry.”

Lorian shook his head weakly, pressing his forehead harder against the post. “What am I supposed to do now? Be the guardian of my sister? Her shadow?”

As the words left his mouth, Lorian’s voice rose with a bitter edge, and he pushed himself away from the post, turning to face Aric with a fire in his eyes. “That’s all I’ve ever been, isn’t it? A shadow. He never wanted me to lead. He made up his mind a long time ago. I never stood a chance!”

Aric’s expression tightened as he heard the anguish in Lorian’s voice. “Lorian, that’s not true—”

“Isn’t it?” Lorian cut him off, his voice trembling with emotion. “I knew I wasn’t good with light magic, or any magic really, but I thought… I thought maybe I could make up for it with my sword skills. I trained harder than anyone, didn’t I? I put everything into it, hoping… no, believing that it would be enough. But it wasn’t, was it? He never even gave me a real chance. And now… now I’m supposed to just stand by and watch as Elara takes everything I was supposed to have?”

Lorian’s rage swelled within him, and without warning, a surge of dark magical energy pulsed from his body, crackling in the air around him. The shadows seemed to deepen and stretch, twisting unnaturally as the ground beneath him shuddered. The wooden post he had been striking moments before splintered further, cracking under the pressure of the unleashed power.

Aric’s eyes widened in alarm as he felt the raw force radiating from Lorian. It was an energy unlike anything he had encountered before—cold, ancient, and tinged with an evil nature that sent a chill down his spine. This wasn’t just anger; it was something far more dangerous.

“Lorian!” Aric called out, his voice sharp with concern. “Control yourself!”

But Lorian was lost in the surge of emotions and power, the world around him blurring as the energy fed on his anger and despair. He could feel it tearing through him, breaking free of some unseen restraint, but he had no idea how to stop it.

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?” Lorian’s voice cracked as the energy pulsed again, the shadows wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. “Why didn’t he tell me the truth? Why did he let me believe I had a chance?”

As the dark energy continued to pulse, Lorian felt something deep inside him begin to crack, a fracture in something he couldn’t quite identify, but it sent a shiver down his spine.

Aric stepped forward, determination hardening his expression. He couldn’t let Lorian lose control, not here, not now. “Lorian, you have to stop! This power—it’s not what you think it is! It’s dangerous!”

Lorian’s eyes snapped to Aric, the words cutting through the haze of anger and confusion. For a moment, he saw the fear in Aric’s eyes—not fear of him, but fear for him. The realization was like a bucket of cold water, shocking him back to reality. But as quickly as it came, the anger surged back, feeding the dark energy that continued to swell around him.

“I’m not going to be her shadow!” Lorian shouted, the darkness flaring in response to his rage. “I won’t live my life in the shadows!”

Aric’s face hardened with resolve. “Lorian, I’m sorry, but you leave me no choice.”

With a swift movement, Aric stepped forward and struck Lorian at the base of his neck, the precise blow instantly cutting off his consciousness. Lorian’s body went limp, the dark energy dissipating as he crumpled to the ground.

Aric caught him before he hit the ground fully, lowering him gently to the earth. His breath was heavy as he looked down at the young man in his arms, the one he had trained and cared for like a son. “Forgive me, Lorian,” he murmured. “I couldn’t let you lose yourself.”

The training fields were silent once more, save for the distant chirping of crickets in the night. Aric carefully bandaged and lifted Lorian, carrying him back toward the estate with a heavy heart.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the Aeloria estate as everyone from the party was long gone. Captain Aric made his way back toward the castle, Lorian’s unconscious form draped across his shoulders. The weight of the young man was nothing compared to the burden of the night’s events that weighed heavily on Aric’s mind. Each step he took was careful and deliberate, his thoughts churning over what had just transpired.

As he approached the castle’s entrance, Aric was greeted by the soft glow of lanterns lining the courtyard, their flickering light casting long shadows. He was almost to the doors when they swung open, and Lady Seraphine stepped out, her gown flowing behind her like a whisper in the night. The relief on her face was palpable as she saw them, but it quickly shifted to concern as she noticed the state Lorian was in.

“Aric!” she called out, rushing forward. “Thank the gods you’re back. I was about to put together a search party if you didn’t return any sooner.”

Aric carefully shifted Lorian’s weight, his own exhaustion showing in the lines of his face. “I’m sorry to have worried you, my lady. We… had a situation at the training fields.”

As she drew closer, Lady Seraphine’s eyes fell on Lorian’s bloodied hands. Despite the makeshift bandages Aric had hastily wrapped around them, blood had seeped through, staining the cloth and dripping slowly onto the ground.

“My son…” Lady Seraphine whispered, her voice catching in her throat as she took in the sight. She reached out, gently lifting one of Lorian’s hands to inspect the damage. “He’s still bleeding. What happened to him?”

Aric’s face tightened with frustration as he spoke, his voice edged with barely restrained anger. “His father is what happened!” Aric spat. “Did you know Thaddeus was going to pull a stunt like this?” he demanded, his tone uncharacteristically sharp. The frustration and helplessness of the night’s events had finally boiled over. “Lorian was… overwhelmed by what happened tonight. He took his frustrations out on a wooden training post. His hands… they’re worse than they look, and I didn’t have the supplies to treat them properly in the field. And if you think his hands are bad, his heart is crushed, Seraphine. He’s still a boy, even if he just had his coming of age. How much more do you think he can take? How long can he keep going when it seems like even his own family is against him?”

Aric’s voice trembled with the weight of his emotions, the words spilling out in a torrent of frustration and concern. “He’s trying so hard to be the son of the great Aeloria family that everyone expects him to be, but tonight… tonight just broke him. And it wasn’t just his spirit, Seraphine—something happened out there, something I can’t explain.”

He took a breath, his voice lowering but still intense. “One moment, he was just a boy trying to work out his anger, but then… the air around him changed. It was like the shadows themselves came alive, twisting and curling around him. It felt cold, unnatural, like an evil power was spilling out of him. I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t Lorian.”

Lady Seraphine’s face paled, her eyes widening slightly as she processed the gravity of what Aric had just described. A deep seriousness settled over her features, her heart clenching with a mix of dread and realization. She glanced at Lorian, her mind racing with the implications of what she was hearing. But before she could respond, the door creaked open.

Thaddeus stepped inside, his stern expression immediately catching Aric’s eye. The tension in the room thickened as the two men locked gazes.

“Captain,” Thaddeus began, his voice calm but carrying a note of command, “I’ve come to check on my son.”

Aric didn’t move from his spot near the bed. Instead, he met Thaddeus’s gaze with a steely glare. “Now you care?” Aric shot back, his tone laced with defiance. “After everything you put him through tonight?”

Thaddeus’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger crossing his face. “Watch your tone, Captain. You forget your place.”

“My place?” Aric scoffed, his frustration boiling over. “My place is looking after your son when you don’t. My place is picking up the pieces after you tear him down. Lorian isn’t a soldier under your command, Thaddeus—he’s a young man trying to find his way in a world that keeps pushing him down. He needed a father tonight, not a master.”

Thaddeus’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Enough, Aric,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “This is not your concern.”

“No, it should be yours,” Aric retorted, refusing to back down. “But it seems to me that you’re more concerned with appearances than with your own son’s well-being.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Thaddeus took a slow, deep breath, but his effort to maintain composure only fueled the rising storm within him. Suddenly, a potent energy surged from him—a powerful, radiant aura of light that filled the room with an overwhelming, blinding intensity. It was a manifestation of his authority, a force that demanded obedience and submission, and it pressed down on everything within the room like the weight of the sun.

“You’ve said enough,” Thaddeus finally muttered, his voice cold and sharp, each word laced with unyielding authority. His aura of light pulsed, filling the room with a searing pressure, as if daring anyone to challenge his command. “Leave us.”

But Aric wasn’t one to be easily intimidated. His own aura flared up in response, a fierce, grounded energy that burned with the resolve of a seasoned warrior. The heat of his aura pushed back against Thaddeus’s overwhelming light, creating a powerful clash of energies in the air. The room crackled with tension, the two men’s auras swirling and colliding like opposing forces of nature.

Aric held Thaddeus’s gaze, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, fueling the fire of his aura. “If this keeps up, Thaddeus, you won’t have a son for much longer,” Aric growled, his voice low and charged with the weight of his warning. “You’re breaking him. And if you keep pushing, there’ll be nothing left to save.”

The pressure in the room intensified as their auras battled for dominance, each man refusing to yield. The air grew thick, almost suffocating, as their combined energies threatened to overwhelm everything around them.

Lorian, lying unconscious on the bed, began to stir as the oppressive forces bore down on him. His body twitched, as if reacting to the invisible war raging around him. Lady Seraphine, sensing the danger to her son, quickly stepped forward. Her own aura flared to life—a dark, velvety, moon-like shadow that spread out like a protective veil, enveloping Lorian in a cocoon of twilight.

Seraphine’s shadowy aura absorbed the intense light from Thaddeus and the burning heat from Aric, balancing the room’s energy with a calming darkness that seemed to swallow the conflict whole. Her power wasn’t just one of concealment but of protection, using the shadows to shield Lorian from the destructive forces around him.

“That’s enough!” Seraphine’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and commanding. The shadows around her seemed to deepen, reinforcing her words with an unmistakable authority. “How dare you two do this here, in front of him?”

Both Thaddeus and Aric recoiled slightly, the intensity of their auras dimming as they realized the harm they were causing. Seraphine’s shadowy veil held firm, ensuring that Lorian remained untouched by the residual energy of their confrontation.

“You’re both acting like fools,” she continued, her tone laced with a cold and rare fury. The shadows that clung to her seemed to pulse in time with her words, enhancing the gravity of her reproach. “This is our son, not some battleground for your pride and anger.”

Thaddeus’s radiant aura receded further, the sternness in his eyes softening into something closer to regret. Aric, too, allowed his fiery aura to fade, the heat of his anger cooling under Seraphine’s watchful gaze.

Aric looked at Seraphine, his expression a mix of apology and lingering frustration. “He needs more than this, Seraphine,” he said, his voice quieter but still firm. “He needs you to protect him, and he needs his father to be there for him.”

Thaddeus remained silent for a moment, his eyes locked on Lorian’s still form. The tension in the room had not entirely dissipated, but the confrontation had lost its edge. Finally, Thaddeus spoke, his voice more controlled but still carrying the weight of his earlier anger. “We will discuss this further,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “But not here. Not now.”

Aric gave a curt nod, casting one last glance at Lorian before turning to leave the room. “Just remember, Thaddeus,” he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying a final note of warning. “He’s still your son. Treat him like it.”

With that, Aric exited the room, the door closing softly behind him. The air in the room began to settle, though the remnants of the tension lingered like the aftershocks of a storm.

Lady Seraphine remained where she was, her shadowy aura still shimmering around Lorian. The darkness within it was soothing, protective—a stark contrast to the blinding light of Thaddeus’s earlier outburst.

She had watched the ending of their exchange in silence, before speaking again, her voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and resolve. “He’s right, Thaddeus. Lorian’s been through more than you realize.”

Thaddeus didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on Lorian’s unconscious form. His expression remained stern, but there was a brief flicker of something—regret, perhaps—that crossed his features.

“He’ll recover,” Thaddeus said finally, though his voice lacked its usual certainty. He moved closer to the bed, his eyes falling on Lorian’s bandaged hands. “What happened here?” he asked, his tone sharper now as he examined the wounds.

“He… took his frustrations out on a training post,” Seraphine explained, her voice tinged with a mother’s sorrow. “It was his way of dealing with everything that happened tonight.”

Thaddeus shook his head slightly, his expression hardening. “This is more than just frustration,” he muttered, almost to himself. Without another word, he placed his hand over Lorian’s injured knuckles, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

A soft, golden light emanated from Thaddeus’s hand, enveloping Lorian’s wounds. The light pulsed with a gentle warmth, seeping into the damaged skin and knitting the torn flesh back together. Within moments, the raw, bloody knuckles were healed, leaving only faint traces of the injury behind.

Seraphine watched Thaddeus closely as he healed their son, her heart aching with a mixture of emotions. “You still care,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

Thaddeus’s expression remained mostly unchanged as he withdrew his hand, the healing light fading away. However, there was a brief flicker in his eyes—a fleeting moment of vulnerability that quickly vanished as he regained his composure. “Of course I care,” he replied, his voice as measured as ever. “He’s my son. But caring doesn’t change what needs to be done.”

Lady Seraphine’s gaze hardened slightly, her earlier softness replaced by a quiet resolve. “And what is it that needs to be done, Thaddeus? Do you really believe naming Elara as heir was the right decision?”

Thaddeus met her gaze, his eyes cold and unwavering. “It was the only decision,” he replied, his tone final. “Lorian… would never be accepted as the head of this family. You know that as well as I do.”

Seraphine clenched her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to argue further. She knew Thaddeus too well—once he made up his mind, there was little she could do to change it. But that didn’t mean she had to agree with him.

“He’s still your son,” she said quietly, her voice firm. “And he deserves better than to be cast aside.”

Thaddeus’s expression remained impassive. “He will find his own path,” he said finally. “And perhaps it will be better for him to do so without the burden of this family’s legacy weighing him down.”

With that, Thaddeus turned away from Lorian, his gaze distant as he moved toward the door. “Ensure he recovers fully,” he said over his shoulder, his tone as commanding as ever. “We’ll speak more about this in the morning.”

Lady Seraphine watched him leave, her heart heavy with the knowledge that, for all his strength and power, Thaddeus was just as conflicted as she was. But she couldn’t allow herself to dwell on that now. Her focus had to be on Lorian—on protecting him, even if it meant standing against the man she had once loved so deeply.

As the door closed softly behind Thaddeus, Lady Seraphine turned back to her son, her hand hovering over his healed knuckles. She leaned in close, her voice a gentle whisper as she spoke to him, “You’ll find your way, Lorian. I’m so sorry tonight wasn’t the way it should’ve been.”

She paused, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, the weight of unspoken fears and regrets heavy in the air. Her eyes traced the faint outlines of his features, his hair so much like her own yet marked by something darker, something deeper that she had hoped would never surface.

“There’s more in our blood than you know,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “More than even I can fully understand. But whatever path you choose, Lorian, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

She leaned in closer, her hand hovering gently above Lorian as she whispered a motherly prayer, her words soft and filled with quiet determination. As she did, a faint glow of magic illuminated the room, subtle and serene, casting a comforting light over her son.

For a moment, the shadows seemed to deepen and gather around them, before slowly retreating as the light faded. Lady Seraphine lingered briefly, her gaze softening as she watched over Lorian’s peaceful face. Then, with a final, gentle touch, she turned and quietly left him to his slumber, the room settling into a calm stillness as she exited.

Lorian’s sleep was disturbed by a soft, persistent knocking at his door. Groggily, he opened his eyes, the remnants of his unsettling dreams still clinging to the edges of his consciousness. He blinked, trying to shake off the fog of sleep, when the knock came again, a little more insistent this time.

“Lorian? Are you awake?” It was Elara’s voice, gentle yet concerned.

Lorian sighed, pushing himself up from the bed. His body felt heavy, weighed down by the events of the previous night, but he forced himself to stand. “I’m up,” he called out, his voice rough with sleep.

The door creaked open slightly, and Elara’s face appeared in the gap, her golden-silver hair catching the morning light. She offered him a small, tentative smile. “Good morning. Breakfast is ready. Mother and Father are already downstairs.”

Lorian’s stomach twisted at the thought of facing his parents, especially his father. “I’ll be down in a minute,” he muttered, turning away from the door.

Elara hesitated, lingering in the doorway. “Lorian… about last night—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lorian cut her off, his voice sharper than he intended. He could feel the anger and hurt from the previous night bubbling back to the surface, and the last thing he wanted was to rehash it all.

Elara stepped fully into the room, her expression softening with concern. “I know you’re upset, but—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Lorian snapped, turning to face her, his golden eyes flashing with a mix of emotions. “Just drop it, Elara.”

Elara flinched at the harshness in his tone but didn’t back down. “I’m your sister, Lorian. I just want to help. I know how much this meant to you—”

“You don’t know anything!” Lorian shot back, his voice rising. “You have no idea what it’s like to always be second, to always be overlooked. You were handed everything on a silver platter, and now you’re the heir. So just leave me alone.”

Elara’s eyes widened with hurt, but she quickly masked it, her expression hardening slightly. “That’s not fair, Lorian,” she said quietly. “I never asked for this. I never wanted to take anything from you.”

“Yeah, well, congratulations,” Lorian muttered bitterly, brushing past her and heading for the door. “You got what you wanted, whether you asked for it or not.”

Without waiting for a response, Lorian pushed past her and stormed out of his room, the door slamming shut behind him. Elara stood there for a moment outside the doorway, her hand still hovering in the air where she had tried to reach out to him. She let it fall to her side, a deep sadness settling in her chest.

Lorian’s footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked away, his heart pounding with a mix of anger, frustration, and guilt. He knew he was being unfair, but the pain of last night was still too raw, too overwhelming to let go of. He needed space—space to think, to breathe, to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

As he reached the staircase, Lorian paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. The day had barely begun, and already it felt like a battle. He knew he had to face his family eventually, and with a final, resigned sigh, he descended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The dining hall was quiet when Lorian entered. His mother, Lady Seraphine, was already seated, sipping her tea with a serene expression, though her eyes held a hint of concern when she looked up and saw him. His father, Lord Thaddeus, sat at the head of the table, his expression as stern and unreadable as ever. Lorian took his seat, settling in with as much calm as he could muster. The breakfast laid out before him was elaborate, as always—an array of fruits, bread, cheeses, and meats that would have been appetizing under normal circumstances. But today, the sight of it only made his stomach turn.

He reached for his utensils, forcing himself to take a few bites, though the food felt like ash in his mouth. The silence stretched on, tense and uncomfortable, as if everyone was waiting for someone else to speak. Lorian kept his eyes on his plate, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze, especially his father’s.

The soft sound of footsteps approaching broke the silence, and a moment later, Elara appeared at the table. She hesitated, offering a polite smile to their parents and a tentative one to Lorian before she took the seat beside him. Her posture was stiff as she pushed the food around her plate, clearly lost in her own thoughts. The tension in the room only seemed to thicken with her arrival.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the clinking of silverware and the occasional rustle of clothing. Lorian remained quiet, his appetite fading with each passing second, his thoughts too consumed by the events of the previous night to focus on anything else.

Finally, Lord Thaddeus broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the tension with a tone that was both authoritative and instructive. “Elara,” he began, addressing his daughter with a hint of pride in his voice. “Now that you’ve been named the heir to House Aeloria, there are certain responsibilities and expectations that you must prepare to undertake.”

Lorian’s grip on his utensils tightened as he listened, his knuckles turning white. His father’s voice, usually something he craved to hear, now felt like nails being driven into his chest.

Thaddeus continued, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the impact his words were having on the room. “You will need to become more involved in the management of our estates and finances. There will be meetings with the other noble houses, ensuring our alliances remain strong. You’ll also be expected to begin your training in statecraft and diplomacy, as well as oversee the training of our soldiers to ensure they are prepared for any eventuality.”

Lorian couldn’t hold it in any longer. The words tumbled out before he could stop them, laced with a bitterness he could no longer suppress. “And what about me, Father?” he interrupted, his voice sharp and cutting. “What am I supposed to do now that you’ve made it clear I’m not good enough?”

The room fell into a shocked silence, all eyes turning to Lorian. His father’s expression hardened, his stern gaze locking onto his son.

“Lorian,” Thaddeus began, his voice laced with a warning. “This is not the time—”

“When is it ever the time?” Lorian shot back, his voice rising. “When have you ever cared about what I want, about what I’ve been working toward? Everything I’ve done has been for this family, for your approval, and now you just cast me aside like I’m nothing!”

Elara’s eyes widened, her fork pausing mid-air as she looked between her brother and father, unsure of what to do or say. Lady Seraphine placed a gentle hand over her mouth, her eyes filled with concern, but she didn’t intervene.

“You are not nothing, Lorian,” Thaddeus replied, his voice controlled, but there was an edge to it that suggested he was losing patience. “You are a member of this family, and you will fulfill your duties as expected. Your sister is more suited to the role of heir, and this is what is best for our house.”

“Best for our house?” Lorian scoffed, his anger boiling over as he grabbed his porcelain plate. “Or best for you?” His grip tightened as he continued, his voice shaking with years of pent-up frustration. “You’ve never believed in me—no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough! You had time to personally tutor Elara, to guide her through every lesson, every challenge, but you never spared a moment to help me with my studies.”

Lorian lifted the plate slightly, his hand trembling. “I was left to struggle on my own while you gave her everything on a silver platter!” As the last word left his mouth, he let go of the plate. It dropped with a sudden crash, shattering into pieces against the table and scattering porcelain shards across the surface.

“That’s enough,” Thaddeus said, his voice low and dangerous. “I will not tolerate this disrespect.”

Lorian felt the heat rising in his cheeks, his fists clenching at his sides. “Respect? Is that what this is about? You want me to respect a decision that rips everything I’ve worked for away from me?”

Thaddeus’s gaze narrowed, his aura of authority pressing down on the room. “You will learn to accept this, Lorian, and you will find your place in this family. There is more to being a part of House Aeloria than holding a title.”

Lorian’s anger spiked, but with it came a crushing sense of defeat. He realized there was no winning this argument. No matter what he said, his father had made up his mind long ago. His chest tightened with a mixture of rage and sorrow, his breath catching in his throat.

Thaddeus’s voice cut through the tension, firm and commanding. “Sit down, Lorian. We’re not finished here.”

Lorian’s grip on the edge of the table tightened as his father’s words struck him like a physical blow. The rage that had been simmering beneath the surface finally boiled over. He could feel the weight of all his frustrations, all the years of striving for his father’s approval, crushing down on him.

“Fuck off,” Lorian spat, his voice low but filled with venom, the words laced with a bitterness that had been building for far too long.

The room fell into a shocked silence, his mother and sister frozen, eyes wide in disbelief. Thaddeus’s expression hardened, his gaze icy and unyielding. For a moment, the tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

But Lorian didn’t care anymore. The moment the words left his mouth, he felt a strange mix of liberation and despair. Before anyone could react, he pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor as he stood up. His silverware clattered onto the floor, the sound sharp and jarring in the now-silent room.

Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the dining hall, brushing past Elara as she reached out to him, her expression pleading. He didn’t stop, didn’t look back. He just needed to get away—from the suffocating weight of his father’s expectations, from the stifling air of the dining hall, from everything.

The door closed behind him with a decisive click, sealing him off from the oppressive environment he had just left. As he walked down the empty corridors, his footsteps echoing in the silence, each step felt like it was taking him further from the life he had known, but for the first time in a long time, Lorian didn’t care.