The Forsaken Heir

The days that followed passed in a blur for Lorian. His routine settled into a steady rhythm of training, studying, and tutoring sessions that left little room for anything else. Mornings began with his regular classes—Combat Training, Mana Control, and Tactics and Strategy. Each brought its own set of challenges and small victories, though none felt entirely satisfying.

In combat, Lady Cerys continued to push him, her sharp eyes never missing a mistake. His internal mana control had improved noticeably, and even his ability to channel it into his sword had become more consistent—though it remained frustratingly slow. There were days when he could feel the mana flow naturally, but more often than not, the tight funnel held him back, the energy trickling through the blade in an uneven, unstable way.

After each session, Elara would find him on the training field, where they would practice together. Her presence became a calming influence, and though she was younger, her grasp of external mana control was far superior to his. She guided him through various exercises, showing him how to let the mana flow more freely and balance the power. Despite her competitive nature in class, she was patient with him.

"Don't force it," she would remind him as he channeled his mana. "It's not about power. It's about precision and control."

Lorian tried, and under her guidance, he made steady improvements. His mana began to flow more evenly, though he still couldn't shake the feeling that something unseen was holding him back. Every time he felt close to a breakthrough, the resistance would return—frustratingly subtle but impossible to ignore.

"You're getting there," Elara would say, encouraging him after each session. "It takes time. You've made more progress than you think."

Still, Lorian couldn't shake his impatience. The nagging question of why he was struggling so much with external mana control weighed on him, and though Elara insisted it felt like a seal, neither she nor anyone else could find evidence of one.

Afternoons were spent with Selene. Their study sessions in the library had become a daily routine, and over time, their connection deepened. Selene was as sharp and strategic as ever, her mind working on a different level when it came to battlefield tactics. Lorian found himself learning not just about strategy but about himself through their conversations. She challenged his thinking, forced him to see beyond the obvious, and pushed him to explore more unorthodox approaches.

"You've got a good tactical mind," she told him one evening as they reviewed one of Aldoria's ancient battles. "But you need to trust your instincts more. You tend to overthink when the answer's right in front of you."

Lorian smiled at her observation. "Maybe it's because I've had to work harder to match up to my sister," he admitted. "I've never been the one with raw talent."

Selene's violet eyes softened slightly. "It's not always about raw talent. Strategy is about understanding your strengths and compensating for your weaknesses. That's why I think you'll do well. You don't give up easily."

Her words stayed with him, adding fuel to his determination to improve. Their mock battles grew more intense, each one forcing Lorian to adapt faster, think quicker, and anticipate her every move. But despite his improvements in strategy, the constant pressure was wearing on him. He was still fighting an uphill battle with his magic, and it gnawed at him.

And then, there was Geralt.

Lorian had started to look forward to his interactions with the stocky, sandy-haired student in Combat Training. Geralt had a knack for lightening the mood, his easy grin and casual attitude offering some much-needed levity amidst the intensity of Lady Cerys's lessons. But the best part? Geralt's relentless attempts to flirt with their fierce instructor—each one more ridiculous than the last.

"Lady Cerys," Geralt called out after another training session, swaggering over with a cocky smile. "You know, you're like a finely crafted sword—sharp, flawless, and... just waiting for the right hand to wield you."

Lorian chuckled to himself, watching as Lady Cerys, ever composed, turned her gaze toward Geralt with a raised brow. Without a word, she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. A faint ripple of magic shimmered in the air as she reached for Geralt's sword, her hand barely brushing the blade.

Before anyone could react, the sword dropped to the ground with a deafening thud, dragging Geralt down with it. His knees buckled as he struggled to hold onto the hilt, his feet sinking into the dirt as if the sword had suddenly multiplied in weight.

Lady Cerys's lips curled into the faintest of smirks. "Lesson two: Before you pick up a sword, make sure you're strong enough to handle it."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Geralt struggling to pull his sword free from the ground, his face flushed with both embarrassment and effort.

Lorian stifled a laugh, feeling a familiar warmth rise in his chest. It reminded him of Caelan's antics back in Aelshire—the same charm, the same lack of success when it came to impressing women. "She's right, you know," Lorian said, clapping Geralt on the shoulder. "You might want to focus on not getting knocked flat first."

Geralt groaned but grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Can't blame a guy for trying."

Despite his failures, Geralt's presence kept Lorian grounded. Between his struggles with mana control, the weight of his combat training, and his ongoing work with Selene, it was nice to have someone like Geralt to remind him not to take things too seriously.

But as the days wore on, the absence of his mentor, Captain Aric, weighed more heavily on him. Aric was supposed to return soon, but there had been no word. In his quieter moments, Lorian found himself wondering when his mentor would come back. He had always relied on Aric's advice, his stern yet encouraging words guiding him through every challenge. Without him, Lorian felt the pressure mounting on his shoulders.

During one of their breaks, Lorian voiced his thoughts to Elara as they sat on the training field, their swords resting beside them.

"Do you think Aric's okay? He was supposed to be back by now," Lorian said, his voice laced with concern.

Elara glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. "He's probably tied up with something important. You know how the military is. But I get it—he's been your rock. It's strange not having him here."

Lorian nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I just thought... I don't know. I figured he'd be back by now. I could use his advice."

Elara gave him a reassuring smile. "You're doing fine, Lorian. Aric would be proud. And when he gets back, you'll have plenty to show him."

But despite her words, the weight of Aric's absence lingered. Each day without hearing from him only added to Lorian's sense of unease.

Still, he pushed forward. He threw himself into his training, determined to make the most of the time he had. Even though his progress in mana control felt slow, he continued to chip away at the invisible wall that held him back. Selene's guidance in strategy sharpened his mind, and Elara's support helped him keep his frustration in check.

By the time the week came to an end, Lorian had made tangible progress—both in combat and strategy. But as he stood alone on the training field one evening, his blade humming faintly with mana, he couldn't help but wonder when the real breakthrough would come.

And when his mentor would return to see it.

As Saturday morning came to a close, Lorian wiped the sweat from his brow, having finished another grueling combat training session under Lady Cerys's sharp gaze. His muscles ached, and his hands felt heavy from the repeated strikes against his training partners, but there was a sense of satisfaction in the pain. He was making progress, even if it was slow.

The usual chatter of students filled the air as they dispersed for the weekend, free from the rigid structure of classes. Lorian was about to head back to his room for some much-needed rest when a familiar voice called out to him.

"Lorian!" Selene's voice broke through the bustle, and he turned to see her weaving through the crowd of students, her silver hair catching the light as she approached.

"Selene," he greeted her with a small smile, brushing off his tunic. "Didn't expect to see you right after training."

She smiled, though there was a playful glint in her eyes. "I could say the same to you. I thought you'd be holed up in the library again, preparing for our next mock battle."

Lorian chuckled, "Not this time. I think my brain needs a break from tactics for a bit."

"Perfect," Selene replied, a bit more animated than usual. "I was actually wondering if you'd like to spend some time in the commercial district of the academy today. You know, explore a little? There's a festival happening—a small one, but it's a nice change of pace from classes and training."

Lorian blinked in surprise. The idea of spending the day outside the academy's usual routine was tempting, but it wasn't what he had expected from Selene, who was typically all business. Then again, she had always been full of surprises.

"The commercial district, huh?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. He had heard of it—a bustling area just outside the main academy grounds, filled with shops, eateries, and even a few small arcane workshops where students could buy supplies. But he hadn't made the time to visit yet. "I didn't realize there was a festival going on."

Selene shrugged. "It's nothing too extravagant, but it's a nice change of scenery. I figured we both deserve a little break, don't you think?"

Lorian smiled, the tension from the week slowly melting away. "Alright, you've convinced me. Lead the way."

The two of them set off toward the commercial district, walking side by side as the academy grounds gradually gave way to cobbled streets lined with colorful stalls. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked goods and the sounds of merchants calling out their wares. Students and staff alike moved through the streets, enjoying the weekend and the festive atmosphere.

As they walked, Selene turned to him, her voice thoughtful. "You've been quiet lately. Everything alright?"

Lorian glanced at her, the question catching him off guard. He hadn't realized how much his frustration had been showing. "Just... thinking a lot," he admitted. "Training's been tougher than I expected. I'm making progress, but it feels like I'm hitting a wall with my mana control."

Selene nodded, her violet eyes studying him. "You've always been hard on yourself. I've seen the way you push through things—even when they get difficult. That's what makes you different from a lot of students here. Most of them give up the moment things don't go their way."

Lorian laughed softly, though the sound was laced with some frustration. "I don't know if that's entirely true. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm pushing because I have to, not because I want to."

Selene raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

He paused for a moment, considering how to put his thoughts into words. "Elara... She's always been naturally talented. Everyone expects her to do great things. I've had to work to even be close to that level. Sometimes, it feels like I'm just trying to keep up."

Selene smiled softly, a rare warmth in her usually composed expression. "You're stronger than you think, Lorian. And it's not about keeping up with anyone else. You've got your own path to follow."

Lorian looked at her, a small sense of comfort washing over him. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

They walked in companionable silence for a bit, taking in the sights of the festival around them. The streets were lively with merchants displaying their magical goods—enchanted trinkets, glowing crystals, even a few small spell tomes. The colors were vibrant, and the air was filled with a sense of excitement that was contagious.

"Hey, look at that," Selene pointed toward a stall with ornate necklaces glowing faintly with magic. "They say those pendants can amplify your mana flow. Think one of those would help with your channeling issue?"

Lorian chuckled. "I doubt a trinket is going to fix whatever's going on with my mana. But it couldn't hurt, right?"

They approached the stall, where an older merchant with a long, bushy beard greeted them with a toothy grin. "Ah, you two have an eye for quality! These pendants are crafted from the finest mana crystals. Amplify your abilities, sharpen your magic—it's all in the enchantment!"

Selene examined one of the pendants closely, her fingers brushing over the delicate runes inscribed on the crystal. "Seems a bit flashy, don't you think?" she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Lorian smirked. "Flashy's not really my style."

"Well, maybe it should be," Selene teased, handing the pendant back to the merchant.

As they continued wandering through the festival, they passed a group of students engaged in a light-hearted sparring match. Lorian's attention was drawn to the fluid movements of their blades, and for a moment, he could almost feel the familiar weight of his own sword in his hand.

Selene seemed to notice his distraction. "You know, we can always come back to train later," she said with a knowing smile.

Lorian laughed softly. "What gave it away?"

"The way you're watching them like you're about to jump in," she replied with a grin. "You never really stop training, do you?"

He shrugged. "Guess I'm a little obsessed."

"More like focused," she corrected. "And that's not a bad thing."

They continued walking, stopping occasionally to browse the stalls or watch the performers entertaining the crowds. The energy of the festival was infectious, and for a while, Lorian allowed himself to forget the pressures of the academy. He found himself laughing more, talking freely with Selene about everything from battle strategies to ridiculous academy rumors. The ease with which they connected surprised him—he hadn't expected to feel this comfortable around her so quickly.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the streets, they found a quieter spot near a small fountain, where they sat down to rest.

"This was a good idea," Lorian said, leaning back and closing his eyes for a moment. "I didn't realize how much I needed to just... relax."

Selene smiled, watching him. "I'm glad you came with me. You deserve a break."

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the sound of the fountain's gentle splashing filling the air. Lorian glanced down at his hand resting on the edge of the fountain, and at the same time, Selene moved hers. Without realizing it, their fingers brushed against each other.

Both of them froze for a second.

Lorian's heart skipped a beat. His mind raced, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. He didn't dare move, but his eyes flicked to Selene's face. She was looking down at their hands, her cheeks flushed just slightly, the cool composure she usually carried wavering for a moment.

"Uh, sorry," Lorian muttered, awkwardly pulling his hand back.

Selene glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's okay," she said softly. "Really."

The brief moment of tension passed, but something lingered in the air between them—something unspoken.

Just as they began to relax again, the quiet was interrupted by approaching footsteps. Three second-year students strode toward them with smug expressions, their eyes narrowing when they spotted Lorian and Selene sitting at the fountain.

"Well, look at this," the tallest one, a wiry boy with greasy black hair, sneered. "Slumming it with a Shieldbearer, are we, Princess?"

Lorian's shoulders tensed, but he remained silent, his grip tightening on the edge of the fountain. Selene opened her mouth to respond, but the second boy, stocky and brutish, chimed in before she could speak.

"Guess that's the best he can hope for," he scoffed, his gaze fixed on Lorian. "After all, he's only here to carry someone else's sword. Not like he could ever earn his own place here, right?"

Each insult hit Lorian with a familiar weight, a crack of something deep inside him echoing with every taunt. The sensation was the same as that night on the training grounds when his fists had pounded into the wooden post until his knuckles bled.

Selene bristled, her violet eyes flashing with anger. "That's enough—"

"Oh, come on, Princess. You don't really think he's worth your time, do you?" the third boy said, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. He crossed his arms, stepping closer to Lorian. "A pathetic Shieldbearer from some backwater, clinging to the coattails of the Aeloria name like it actually means something anymore."

Lorian's eyes darkened, and though his expression remained calm, an icy chill seemed to fill the air around him. The cracking feeling grew louder in his mind, tearing at the edges of his restraint, but still, he didn't move.

Selene shifted beside him, her frustration mounting. "Lorian is—"

"Oh, we know who he is, Princess," the tallest one cut in with a laugh. "The failed heir. Imagine having to follow your baby sister around like a lost puppy because your daddy couldn't trust you to lead your own family."

The final crack ripped through him, something primal and dangerous breaking free, the hidden wall just had a hole punched through. Lorian stood slowly, his silence more chilling than any retort could have been. He walked toward the trio, his eyes locking onto the one who had spoken last. There was no hesitation in his step, no warning, just cold, deliberate intent.

The tallest boy faltered, confusion flickering in his gaze. "What, you gonna hit me, Shieldbearer?"