Spellborne

Malrik stood at the threshold of the cabin door, brow slightly raised in amusement.

"Careful, kid," he said, stepping closer. "You expand your will too wide and someone's bound to trip over it."

Lucian blinked the haze away, still catching his breath. "You stepped in it."

"Didn't mean to," Malrik shrugged, stopping just outside arm's reach. "Still—impressive. That was a decent mana zone, stable flow and a little flame show. You're already showing off the magic."

Lucian muttered, brushing bits of grass off his sleeve. "I was just trying see if I still got it in me."

"Well, you succeeded." Malrik gave him a look. "Nearly gave me a headache walking into that. You know—touching someone with your consciousness like that... it's rude."

Lucian raised an eyebrow.

Malrik smirked faintly. "Feels like skin against skin. Uninvited."

Lucian groaned, turning away. "Ugh. Don't make it weird."

"Then don't make it intimate."

He laughed at Lucian's glare and gave a playful mock-bow. "You're not into me, are you?"

Lucian rolled his eyes and stood too, but couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his lips.

They stood in silence for a moment, until Malrik nodded toward him. "So. That's your answer, then?"

Lucian nodded slowly. "I'm not running from it anymore."

Malrik grinned. "Good. Because I've got someone you need to meet."

Lucian raised a brow.

"She's a mage. A bit eccentric. Fun, dangerous, smarter than me. Her name's Ellie."

"I had Kana send her a letter yesterday."

Lucian smirked. "Sounds like you knew I'd learn magic again."

"Of course I did."

Lucian rolled his eyes. Malrik however added.

"She lives in the town of Drea. You'll have to go to the town square and get those merchant caravan servi.... wait? Don't tell me you don't know the Town Square?"

"Lived in the Manor all my life, thought you'd know"

"Funny. And by the way, you're leaving at noon."

"Wha..."

The afternoon was crisp with wind and bright skies. Lucian stood beside the cabin with a small travel pack by his feet. He was dressed in a dark tunic and trousers, with black boots caressing his foot. A cloak draped over his shoulders. He looked like those theatre actors than a traveller. His dark hair was still tousled as always but and his remarkable grey eyes...looked at Malrik with annoyance.

How nice of you after kicking me out...

Inside were a few changes of clothes, dried food, a waterskin, and gold — Malrik had insisted. On his hip now hung a sleek double-edged short sword with a short hilt, perfectly balanced, built for precision over brute strength. "For the bandits" he said.

Lucian gave it a quick swing. Light. Fast. It fit.

"This should get you into the merchant caravan," Malrik said, stepping out with a scroll tucked under his arm. A hand drawn map. "They'll be at the town square. Merchants there should be ready to close their stores and move back to Drea."

Lucian nodded.

"Do you need anything?" Malrik asked, eyes shadowed beneath his tied-back hair.

Lucian took a breath. "Not really."

"I'll train and get stronger. And one day… I'll go back."

"To the Valemire estate?"

A pause.

Lucian's grey eyes narrowed. "To take it back."

Malrik smiled. There was a strange pride in his gaze — like watching a blade sharpen into form.

Lucian hesitated. "Why'd you help me, Malrik? Really."

The older man looked out to the forest, then back.

"…Because I see myself in you."

A smile formed on the mage's face

The wind blew through the clearing as Lucian shouldered the pack. His steps were steady, his mind clearer than it had been in years.

At the edge of the woods, he turned.

"Thanks, Malrik."

"Don't die," Malrik said, grinning. "It's bad for your reputation."

Lucian rolled his eyes and vanished into the trees.

Behind him, Malrik exhaled slowly.

"A 98 aptitude…" he muttered, shaking his head.

He glanced up at the hawk perched on the rooftop. "Let's hope Ellie doesn't kill him before I see him again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the town of Drea, somewhere far from the quiet forest, in a candlelit study that smelled of ink, parchment, and aged liquor, a woman in deep navy robes and a comically large, pointed hat leaned back in a creaking chair. Scrolls lay scattered like fallen leaves, and a half-emptied bottle of something potent sat beside a chipped goblet.

She peeled open a letter with an elegant, silver-tipped finger. The seal was unremarkable — no house crest, just a single black ink mark that resembled a fading crown's shadow.

Her eyes, keen and sharp beneath straight green hair, skimmed the contents.

~To the Esteemed Mage of Drea, Lady Ellie Ardeval,

I hope this letter finds you in stable health (and, hopefully, sobriety).

I am sending a young apprentice your way — a boy named Lucian.

He is sixteen, genius, and exceptionally gifted.

He is clever, observant, and... witty, I dare say. But above all, he is humble.

Particularly when it comes to swordplay.

He has shown promise in magical aptitude as well, and I believe your guidance may help develop that side of him. Kindly be patient with him — he is rough around the edges, but has a good heart.

Treat him like a seedling. With the right soil, he may one day bloom.

— Shadow Knight Malrik

At the end, her lips curved into a smirk.

"He wants me to what?"

She chuckled, rolled her eyes, then muttered:

"Shadow of the King, still dramatic as ever."

She slowly slumped on her desk...and entered her world of dreams and liquor.