The manor was silent.
Cale sat at the edge of his bed, the oil lamp flickering on the nightstand beside him. The scroll Elurin had delivered sat in his hands — tied with a familiar green thread.
He unraveled it carefully, afraid even the sound of tearing parchment might ruin the moment.
The handwriting was familiar. Gentle. Sloped in places like she had been writing fast and pausing often — his mother's usual rhythm.
He began to read.
> Cale,
This is your mother. I know it was Elurin who delivered this to you, but your father wouldn't do the paperwork no matter how much I tell him to — said I'm better at it. Can you believe it? Can you? Because I do not!
A tiny smile curled at the edge of his lips.
> Anyway, my dear son, how have you been?
We are all doing great here. We just celebrated Lukas's 10th birthday a few days ago.
He had wished to be a knight like his brother when he gets older!
Your father and I took great joy in that.
Of course, in the midst of all our happiness, we haven't forgotten about you.
We think of you every day and night, wondering when you'll be back home.
Cale swallowed, his fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the scroll.
He could picture it. Lukas beaming under too-big armor made of paper and wood. His mother laughing. His father pretending not to cry behind his hand.
And Cale… missing from it all.
> Also — is Aleric good to you?
He must have grown to be such a great man, I presume.
The last time I saw him, he was still a fresh bachelor maneuvering the intricacies of adulthood.
Tell him your father and I said Hi.
He's sent letters to us every day, telling us about you.
So you've been promoted to his mentee?
That is such a great thing, Cale!
Cale looked up briefly, toward the closed door.
He could still feel the phantom warmth of the dinner fire from earlier. Aleric's calm words, Mira's scathing glances, Emis' endless taunts. He'd... begun to feel something here.
> You know, Aleric was also a mentee of your father when he was younger…
Before we moved to Ime Island.
Cale paused.
That, he hadn't known.
He blinked, trying to keep the moisture in his eyes from falling. It felt strange, this knot in his chest — not sorrow, not quite joy. Something caught in-between.
He read the final line.
> We're proud of you, Cale. No matter what you decide to become.
Please stay safe. And write when you can.
—Love,
Mom
Cale sat there for a long moment, the scroll pressed against his chest.
The silence was no longer empty — it felt like them. Like home, waiting.
_____________
Aleric's study was warm this morning.
Sunlight slanted through the tall windows, scattering golden patterns over the ink-stained desk and the faded rug beneath their feet. Aleric stood at the front of the room beside a large scrollboard. Cale sat at the edge of a plush chair, a notebook in hand — even if he wasn't sure he'd actually be writing anything down.
On the scroll, five symbols were inked in deep black:
• A spiral eye
• A dagger pierced through a raven wing
• A mask with no mouth
• A broken hourglass
• A chain wrapped around a beast's heart
Above them, one word:
Veyrathi.
Emis was curled on the back of Cale's chair. Mira perched silently above, her eyes unreadable.
Aleric tapped the scrollboard with the end of a metal stylus.
"These are the five lines," he said. "The core bloodstreams of Veyrathi legacy. Not all Veyrathi are born equal. Your lineage determines your path — your bond affinity, your instincts, your strengths."
Cale leaned forward.
Aleric pointed to the spiral eye first.
> "Oculen's Line. Clairvoyance. Prophets of time and memory. Rarest of the five. Feared most by kings, and buried deepest in the old records."
Cale felt a twinge in his chest.
Aleric moved on.
> "Warden's Line. Warriors and hunters. Heightened reflex, combat clarity. Mira and I share this one."
The raven clicked her beak in amusement.
> "Whisperer's Line. Masters of influence. Voice-binders, soul-benders. They speak and the weak obey. Cursed for manipulation. Their Yvelari are cunning — foxes, jackals, clever-eyed crows."
Cale shivered.
> "Veilborn Line. Shadowwalkers. Spatial disruption. They do not travel — they vanish. Rumors say they once moved between dreams."
Even Emis seemed less sarcastic now.
> "Binder's Line. Ritualists. The only Veyrathi who can bind multiple spirits at once. They don't fight directly — they summon echoes, guardian beasts. But the toll on their body is immense. Some live only a decade after awakening."
Cale blinked. "Why would anyone want that?"
Aleric didn't answer right away.
Then: "Because power always costs something. The difference between the Veyrathi and the Elementalists is simple: we know the price. They just delay the bill."
Cale's gaze returned to the spiral eye.
"So my father… was an Oculen too?"
Aleric nodded. "Yes. And one of the few who never turned his sight inward. That kind of discipline is rare. He walked away from everything. Hid himself — and you."
Cale swallowed.
Emis leaned down and murmured near his ear.
"Now you understand why they were afraid of us."
Mira's voice followed, calm and cool.
"And why they'll come again."
Aleric's hand dropped to his side.
"You carry the rarest line, Cale. But also the one that doomed us. There's more to your legacy than visions. There's a war still echoing behind your blood."
Cale stared at the symbol again.
The spiral seemed to move under his gaze.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if it was the ink — or something inside him, finally waking up.
_______________
The training courtyard behind Aleric's manor was slick with morning dew.
Stone tiles shimmered under soft light, and tall ivy-covered walls blocked the wind. Cale stood at the center, wearing a practice tunic, a short wooden blade in his hand. It was lighter than the hunting sword he'd used back on Ime — but familiar enough to grip naturally.
Across from him, Aleric rolled his sleeves, exposing lean muscle and a mark coiled faintly around his wrist. He held no weapon. He didn't need one.
Mira perched on the railing above.
Emis, seated on a fencepost nearby, swished his tail lazily.
"Today's lesson," Aleric said, "is simple: land a single hit."
Cale's eyes narrowed.
"That's it?"
Mira chuckled. "It won't be."
Aleric gave a small nod. "Come when you're ready."
Cale exhaled. Shifted his weight. Then moved.
.
.
He struck fast — low feint, followed by a sweep up. But Aleric had already sidestepped, not even lifting his arms.
Cale spun, swung again. Blocked.
Aleric's palm knocked the wooden sword aside with a quiet thwack. Cale barely held onto it.
"Faster than I expected," Aleric said, mildly. "You've fought before."
"Hunted," Cale grunted. "Small game. Once… Vorrak."
That gave Aleric pause — but only a heartbeat.
Then he moved.
.
.
Cale barely saw it. A blur of motion — then Aleric was behind him, tapping his back with two fingers.
"Dead,"Mira called.
Cale spun, panting.
"I thought this was training!"
"It is,"Emis yawned. "You're being trained in how not to be roadkill."
Aleric circled him slowly.
"Every bloodline has a strength," he said. "But more importantly — every bloodline has a flaw."
He raised one finger.
"Warden Line — we lack subtlety. If you predict our pattern, you can trap us. We commit to the fight."
Another finger.
"Veilborn — powerful, but limited in daylight. Their spatial magic needs shadow. Keep them under open sky."
Third finger.
"Whisperers rely on focus. Distract them, and they can't maintain control. Same with Binder-types — if you break their ritual flow, they're vulnerable."
Cale asked, "And Oculens?"
A pause.
Mira answered.
"Oculens lack raw speed and force. Their power lies in preemption — reading before reacting. You lose your vision? You lose the fight."
Aleric nodded. "So don't lose it."
Cale gritted his teeth.
He activated his mark.
The warmth surged. He let it flow behind his eyes.
.
.
This time, as Aleric moved, the motion shimmered — like a ripple ahead of the strike.
Cale twisted sideways just in time, Aleric's sweep barely grazing him.
There!
He feinted left, Aleric followed—
Then Cale dropped low and jabbed upward.
The wooden sword hit Aleric's shoulder.
Tap.
Silence.
Mira let out a low whistle.
"Well, I'll be—"
Emis lifted a paw. "Someone owes me three gold."
Aleric stared down at Cale with raised brows.
"Not bad."
Cale was panting, grinning. "So… I passed?"
"No," Aleric said.
Then smirked.
"But you've started."