Thirteenth Prince's Odyssey

Edwin's curiosity deepened. Liam had never shown interest in the library before, especially after the court and his peers dismissed him as incapable of advancing beyond the Beginner realm. Still, he maintained his composure. "Shall I escort you there?"

"Please do," Liam replied, rising from his chair.

As they walked through the winding halls of the palace, Edwin kept the conversation light. He pointed out various artifacts and paintings lining the corridors, sharing snippets of history about their creators.

"Did you know this tapestry was commissioned by your grandmother?" Edwin said, gesturing to a baroquely woven piece depicting a grand battle. "She believed art was as important to the legacy of a ruler as their victories."

Liam nodded, only half-listening. His mind was preoccupied with the prospect of reaching the library and uncovering something—anything—that could aid him in his quest for mana.

They passed several guards standing at attention, their armor gleaming under the soft glow of magic lamps embedded in the walls. The lamps flickered faintly, a reminder of the Arcanite within them, a source Liam now viewed with renewed interest.

Finally, they arrived at the library, its tall oak doors carved with ancient runes and symbols of knowledge. Edwin pushed the doors open, revealing rows upon rows of shelves, each brimming with books and scrolls. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and the faint magic emanating from the room's protective enchantments.

"This is where the journey begins," Edwin said, his tone encouraging. "If you truly wish to grow, Master Liam, the answers you seek may very well lie here."

Liam stepped inside, his heart racing with anticipation. "Thank you, Edwin. I'll take it from here."

The butler bowed slightly, a rare look of approval crossing his face. "Very well, Master Liam. I'll leave you to your studies. Should you require anything, you need only call."

Liam watched Edwin depart before turning back to the vast collection of knowledge before him—the Arcanum of Winston. Named after the first mage king of Ironhelm, King Arthur Winston, this library stood as a testament to the kingdom's commitment to learning and magical advancement. King Arthur, the sixth king of Ironhelm and a descendant of the illustrious third royal house of Winston, had laid the foundation for theoretical studies in magic. His belief in the power of understanding had shaped Ironhelm's future, making it a kingdom renowned for its magical prowess.

As Liam stepped into the grand hall, he was greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of the library. Towering bookshelves carved from ancient cedar stretched endlessly toward the high, arched ceilings, where crystal chandeliers hung, emitting a soft, warm glow. Magic lamps, enchanted to emit no heat, floated between the shelves, illuminating the titles of thousands of tomes. A quiet hum of mana permeated the air, giving the place an almost sacred atmosphere.

At the center of the library stood a marble statue of King Arthur, his robes flowing as though caught in an unseen wind. One hand rested on the hilt of a ceremonial blade, while the other held an open book, its pages carved with alluring magical runes. Beneath the statue, an inscription read:

"Seek not only power but the wisdom that sustains it. For without understanding, even the greatest magic is but a fleeting shadow."

Liam's gaze lingered on the statue for a moment before he continued to the reception desk at the far end of the hall. The desk, made of polished mahogany, bore a nameplate that read "Harold Grayson - Archivist and Keeper of Records." Behind it sat an elderly man with sharp, intelligent eyes and a neatly trimmed beard, his spectacles perched precariously on his nose. He was scribbling notes in an oversized ledger with an enchanted quill.

As Liam approached, Harold looked up and adjusted his glasses. His expression softened when he saw who it was. "Ah, Prince Liam," he greeted with a courteous bow of his head. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?"

Liam smiled faintly, feeling slightly out of place. "Good morning, Master Harold. I was hoping to… start somewhere. But I'm not sure where. Any suggestions?"

Harold raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Liam's sudden interest in the library. Leaning back in his chair, he tapped the quill against his chin thoughtfully. "Good morning, Prince Liam. That depends entirely on what you're looking for. The library is vast, as you know, and divided into several sections. For magical theory and foundational knowledge, the Hall of Fundamentals on the lower level is an excellent starting point. If you're drawn to history and the legacies of our kingdom, the Chronicle Wing upstairs is unparalleled. Of course, there are also the restricted sections—reserved for more advanced and confidential studies."

Liam nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "Anything on mana, perhaps? Its origins or… unconventional uses?"

Harold's eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone remained neutral. "Ah, you'll find material on mana in the Essence Vault, located on the second floor. It's not restricted, but the texts there can be quite advanced. You might want to build a foundation first." He gestured toward the towering shelves behind him. "Or, if I may suggest, skim through the basics in the Hall of Fundamentals and let your curiosity guide you from there."

"That sounds reasonable," Liam replied, masking his growing impatience. "Thank you, Master Harold."

Harold inclined his head again. "Of course. If you require assistance locating specific tomes, the index table near the entrance will guide you. And, as always, the staff is here to help." He paused, studying Liam for a moment. "It's refreshing to see you here, Prince Liam. The Arcanum has missed your presence."

Liam managed a small smile before turning toward the Hall of Fundamentals. As he walked past the endless rows of books, their spines shimmering faintly under the flickering light of enchanted lanterns, he noticed titles that stirred his curiosity:

"Sensing the Ethereal: A Novice's Guide"

"The Art of Deception Magic"

"Runes of Power: Foundations for Inscriptionist"

"The Mortal Dream: A Study of the Realm Between Realms"

He paused briefly at The Mortal Dream, its cover depicting a sleeping figure surrounded by shifting clouds and faint silhouettes. The subtitle caught his attention: "A Study of the Realm Between Realms." He had heard many appraises about this book, so he decided to bring it along.

As he walked past the endless rows of books and whispered enchantments echoing through the air, he felt the weight of King Arthur's words from the statue. He found himself eager to understand—not just for the answers he so desperately sought, but also for knowledge.

Liam went upstairs to the second floor of the library, arriving at a section labeled "Essence Vault." The heavy wooden sign above the entrance glimmered faintly, enchanted with preservation magic. Rows of meticulously organized shelves stretched out before him, each filled with volumes on mana theory, its applications, and its origin hypothesis.

He moved through the aisles, scanning the spines of countless books. Their titles varied from practical guides like "Nourishing the Flame: A Beginner's Guide to Mana Heart Cultivation" to cryptic works such as "The Aether's Pulse: Unseen Currents of Mana Flow." He examined several options, his fingers tracing the embossed titles, and finally selected two other books that seemed promising.

With the books in hand, Liam found a seat in the reading area—a quiet alcove with plush chairs and reading tables lit by floating magic lamps. The soft hum of mana lamps accompanied the faint whispers of a few other library patrons. As Liam settled into his seat, he noticed the hushed conversations had turned quieter still. Though the others did not approach him, their furtive glances and barely audible murmurs made it clear they recognized him. Perhaps they were judging him, wondering why the thirteenth prince—so often dismissed as lazy and untalented—had suddenly decided to grace the library with his presence.

Liam ignored them. He wasn't here for their approval.

Liam opened the first book, Currents of Creation, and began to read. The thick parchment pages were densely packed with text and diagrams, each line meticulously crafted to detail the mechanics of mana. His eyes scanned the carefully inked illustrations of hearts and flames, his fingers tracing the lines as if committing them to memory.

"The Mana Flame is unique to each individual," the book began.

"Your lineage shapes your potential to bear the Mana Flame. At birth, as you take your first breath, mana rushes into your body with the air, igniting a spark of life within the heart. This spark gives rise to the Mana Flame—a phenomenon as rare as it is mysterious, with only one in every hundred individuals born bearing it."

The text explored the enigmatic origins of the Mana Flame, linking it to lineage.

"The strength of one's ancestors often determines the initial brilliance of the flame. Strong bloodlines yield strong flames, yet nature enforces balance. No Ascendant who has reached the realm of Champion or beyond has ever sired offspring. Scholars suggest this is nature's way of maintaining equilibrium between the extraordinary and the mortal world."

Liam paused, letting the words sink in. The connection between strength, lineage, and balance felt profound.

The book continued:

"Its appears as a flame over the heart hence its name. It evolves with the wielder's growth. At the earliest stages, the flame glows faintly red, flickering and unstable—like a spark struggling to catch. With each breakthrough in the minor realms, the flame brightens, and in major advancements, its color shifts, reflecting the wielder's growing mastery and control."

The next section delved into the Mana Heart:

"At the center of this phenomenon is the Mana Heart, a living engine that generates rhythmic Mana Pulses. These pulses flow through the body with every second heartbeat. Beginners experience faint and erratic pulses, limiting their ability to perform sustained magic. However, as the wielder ascends, their Mana Heart grows stronger, producing frequent, potent pulses capable of powering advanced spells and abilities."

Liam closed his eyes, trying to focus on his own Mana Heart. It wasn't an immediate process; distractions clawed at the edges of his thoughts. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, working to relax his body. Time seemed to stretch as he gradually tuned into himself.

Eventually, he felt it—a faint warmth deep within his chest. He pressed a hand lightly against his sternum, concentrating on the flickering sensation. His Mana Flame was weak, barely more than a struggling ember. In his mind's eye, he pictured his heart—a deep crimson orb with dim, unsteady veins glowing faintly.

The sight filled him with a mixture of resolve and uncertainty. How much further did he need to go? How many more trials lay ahead before his flame could burn brighter?

The book seemed to anticipate his thoughts:

"This growth is not just physical; it is a spiritual transformation. The evolving Mana Flame is a testament to the wielder's resilience, discipline, and ability to overcome both internal fears and external trials."

Liam let the words linger in his thoughts as he carefully turned the final pages. Currents of Creation was dense with information, but he took his time, ensuring every detail about the Mana Flame, Mana Heart, and Mana Pulses was understood. By the time he closed the book, the light in the room had shifted, signaling the passing hours.

Only then did he reach for the second book, The Essence of Living Mana: The Balance of Life and Power. Its weight was different—heavier, as though the knowledge it contained carried greater gravity. The introduction opened with a solemn warning:

"Mana is as much a source of life as it is of power, and the two are inextricably tied."

The text built upon the concepts from the first book, describing the Mana Flame as the manifestation of mana around the heart.

"This flame ignites and sustains the Mana Heart. Depending on the wielder's realm, the heart takes on a distinct hue, its veins glowing brighter than its base color. The Mana Flame acts as the initial ignition, fueling the Mana Heart to generate Mana Pulses—infused blood pulses that carry mana throughout the body, much like an engine fueled by magical energy."

The book warned of the risks of overuse:

"Overexertion extinguishes the Mana Flame, leaving the Mana Heart unable to produce Mana Pulses. When this occurs, the heart functions only as an ordinary organ, stripping the individual of their magical vitality and rendering them crippled in a world reliant on mana."

The comparison to an engine resonated with Liam. He imagined the delicate system within his chest, each pulse a vital part of his existence. The final caution etched itself into his thoughts:

"Balance and restraint are essential. Overuse may grant temporary power, but at the cost of the very life it sustains."

Liam closed the book and leaned back, staring into the distance as the weight of the knowledge settled over him. The two books had revealed much about the nature of mana—its mechanics, its ties to life, and the delicate balance required to wield it. Yet, alongside this new understanding, frustration simmered within him.

The answers he sought still felt out of reach. Despite hours of reading, nothing in either book had truly pointed him toward the source of pure mana. His initial hope of uncovering something to guide his visions now seemed more elusive than ever.

He glanced at the remaining book on the table, The Mortal Dream, its worn cover etched with mysterious imagery. There was still one more chance for answers, but doubt gnawed at him, but suddenly, a familiar sensation began to creep into his temples—a dull ache that signaled the onset of another vision.

His heartbeat quickened as he felt the mana in the air begin to shift. He stood abruptly and made his way to the windows, opening them wide.

Cool air flooded the room, carrying with it a faintly charged quality. Liam's suspicions were confirmed: the mana concentration was rising. Somewhere beyond the library walls, the king was beginning his training with the royal guards. The elevated mana in the atmosphere seemed to intensify the pain in Liam's head.

Closing the books and leaving them on the table, Liam hurried out of the library. The corridors were eerily quiet as he made his way back to his room, each step growing heavier as the headache built.

Just as he reached his door, Edwin appeared from around the corner, his expression curious. "Master Liam? You're up early," he remarked, noticing Liam's disheveled state. "Did something happen?"

Liam shook his head quickly. "I'm just tired, Edwin. Stayed up too long in the library. I need rest." His tone was clipped, discouraging further inquiry.

Edwin nodded. "Very well, Master Liam. I'll ensure you're not disturbed."

Liam offered a faint nod of gratitude before slipping into his room and locking the door. This time, instead of the crude plank he often used, he summoned a faint burst of mana to secure the lock with a magical mechanism. Edwin had arranged the change of mechanism during his absence overnight.

The room darkened as he drew the curtains closed with Telekinesis. Followed by Levitation he then, summoned more mana, and raised Barrier around him, ensuring absolute privacy. During the mana surge he again had the comprehension level of an Expert Mage.

The pain in his head spiked sharply, and Liam knew it was time. Liam hoped this vision would grant him the clarity he desperately sought. Yet as the overwhelming force took hold and his surroundings blurred, he felt an ominous weight settle over him.

In his vision, he found himself submerged in freezing water, the icy grip of the abyss dragging him deeper. His lungs burned, begging for air, but the surface felt impossibly far. The darkness surrounding him was suffocating, pressing in from all sides like a living entity. His limbs moved sluggishly, heavy with exhaustion, and his mana felt inert, utterly unresponsive.

Pain coursed through his body as though every cell was being wrung dry. A sharp, crushing force seemed to squeeze the life out of him. He flailed briefly, instinctively trying to swim upward, but his movements lacked conviction. Deep down, he realized he wasn't fighting to save himself—he had no desire to be saved.

Around him, tendrils of a dark, malevolent magic coiled like serpents, binding his limbs and pulling him further into the abyss. The faint glow of a dark halo encircled him, pulsing faintly as if alive. Its oppressive presence seemed to feed on his despair, making every breathless second feel like an eternity.

Liam's vision dimmed as his strength ebbed away, his life force slipping through his fingers. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, his body succumbing to the inevitable. There was no escape, no salvation—only an endless, suffocating void.

Then, abruptly, the vision ended. It was evening. Liam woke up with a strangled gasp, his chest heaving as if he had been pulled from actual drowning. The barrier magic he had cast around his room shattered in an instant, dissipating like smoke, as he fell to the ground. His body trembled uncontrollably, and cold sweat dripped down his face. He clutched his chest, desperately sucking in air as his heart thundered in his ears.

A sharp knock echoed from the door, breaking the silence. Edwin's familiar voice came through, calm but laced with concern. "Master Liam, are you alright?"

It was as though Edwin could see right through the door. Liam struggled to steady himself, his limbs still shaky, and stumbled toward the door. He opened it just a crack, enough to meet Edwin's searching gaze. "I'm fine," Liam rasped, his voice hoarse. "Just… just a bad dream."

Edwin studied him carefully for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "If you need anything, I'll be nearby."

"Thank you, Edwin." Liam forced a weak smile before closing the door again.

He leaned against the frame for a moment, steadying his breath before staggering back to his bed. His body trembled, the weight of the vision clinging to him like a shadow. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the cold water, the crushing darkness, the suffocating magic.

Collapsing onto the bed, Liam pressed his hands to his temples, trying to suppress the rising tide of panic. The air in the room felt thick, his thoughts tangled in a web of questions he couldn't answer.

Why this visions? What was its purpose? Is this my future?

As he stared blankly at the dim ceiling, a single, unshakable realization settled over him like a heavy cloak:

For the insatiable craving that gnawed at his core—he needed mana, and he needed it in abundance. If he truly wished to uncover more, to delve deeper into the mysteries that eluded him, this need could not be ignored.