Umbra Rising

The city had never felt this cold before. The stone streets, once familiar and welcoming, now stretched before him like a maze of judgmental eyes and whispered condemnation. The noble district, where he had once walked with confidence as a Solaris, now felt alien, its gleaming towers and pristine pathways no longer belonging to him. The air carried the quiet hum of voices—whispers that followed him wherever he went.

"That's him."

"I heard he was cursed."

"His father threw him out, didn't he?"

Drake gritted his teeth, pulling the hood of his cloak tighter around his face. The weight of their stares pressed against him like an unseen force, but he refused to let them see how much it stung. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

He wandered through the winding streets, past shops he had once visited, past people who had once greeted him with respect. Now, merchants avoided his gaze, and old friends turned their backs. Even those who pitied him kept their distance.

A reminder—he was alone.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows between the buildings. He had spent hours walking with no real destination, trying to silence the storm of emotions raging inside him. Every street, every turn, only made the truth sink deeper into his bones. There was no place for him here.

Drake's feet finally led him to the city's outskirts, where the grand estate of the Solaris family loomed in the distance. For a moment, he considered returning—demanding answers, pleading with his father to reconsider. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. His father's judgment was final.

The mansion might as well have been a world away. He wasn't welcome there anymore.

A sudden sharp pain shot through his stomach. Hunger. He hadn't eaten since the morning of his trial, and the gnawing emptiness was becoming harder to ignore. He reached into his cloak's pocket, fingers brushing against a few small coins—hardly enough for a proper meal.

As he turned down a quieter alley, he spotted a small bakery, the scent of fresh bread filling the air. A boy, perhaps a year younger than him, sat outside, gnawing on a crust of bread. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, yet his eyes were defiant. A street rat.

Drake hesitated. Just a few days ago, he would have pitied the boy. Now, he realized he wasn't so different. He was just another outcast now.

Shaking off the thought, he stepped inside the bakery. The warmth of the ovens wrapped around him like a forgotten embrace. The baker, a stout man with flour-streaked arms, eyed him warily as he approached the counter. Drake placed a few coins down. "Just a roll."

The baker's gaze flickered to his hooded appearance, to the insignia embroidered on his cloak—the mark of the Solaris house. A slow frown settled on his face.

"We don't serve your kind," the man muttered, shoving the coins back toward him.

Drake's fingers curled into a fist. "I'm just trying to buy some bread."

The baker's eyes darkened. "You think I'd risk angering Lord Solaris by feeding a disgrace? Get out."

Anger flared in Drake's chest, but he swallowed it down. He had no power here, no authority to argue. Without another word, he turned and walked out, shoving the coins back into his pocket.

The boy outside watched him, smirking slightly. "Guess they don't want you either, huh?"

Drake exhaled sharply, giving the boy one last glance before walking away. No. They didn't.

The truth settled heavily in his chest. He didn't belong here. Not anymore.

His feet carried him toward the city gates before he even realized where he was going. The docks weren't far. Ships came and went every day, carrying merchants, scholars, and hopeful young mages. Maybe that was his only option.

Maybe it was time to leave.

For good.