Lucius woke up by himself again that morning.

  He didn’t like it.

  It was strange — he almost wanted someone to wake him… someone like his mother.

  He sat up beneath the quilt, rubbed his eyes, and glanced to his right. Reid was still fast asleep, sprawled across the bed like a fallen knight.

  Lucius slipped his feet into his slippers and padded softly to the kitchen.

  The moment he stepped in, a sweet, unfamiliar smell filled his nose.

  Melan?e stood by the stove, humming, as something golden sizzled on the pan. Sugar and butter mingled in the air.

  Lucius tilted his head, curious. An omelet? With sugar? Would that even taste good?

  Melan?e turned just in time to catch his puzzled look.

  “Ah, good morning, Lucius!” she said, smiling warmly. “I was just making you two some sweet omelets for breakfast.”

  She glanced behind him and raised an eyebrow. “I see our little sleepy knight isn’t up yet. Could you wake him for me?”

  Lucius nodded. “Sure.”

  He padded back to the room and stood beside Reid’s bed. A playful idea crossed his mind. He raised his palms, and droplets of water began to gather — forming a shimmering sphere in the air. With a flick of his wrist, it burst.

  Cold water splashed across Reid’s face.

  Reid jolted upright with a strangled gasp.

  “Lucius! What are you doing?!” His voice was half outrage, half laughter.

  Lucius grinned and bolted out of the room. Reid gave chase, stumbling after him. Within seconds, the hall was filled with the sound of laughter and running feet.

  “You wanted this,” Reid said in mock menace as he caught Lucius and started tickling him.

  For a moment, the house overflowed with joy.

  “Breakfast is ready, you two!” Melan?e called from the kitchen, still smiling as she set the plates on the table. “Come on before you’re late.”

  They hurried over and sat down. Melan?e bowed her head slightly, hands folded.

  “Thank you, Shenrog, for the fire and the food.

  May it warm our hands, fill our hearts, and keep us through the day.

  Burn our hearts with the joy that comes from your flame.”

  Lucius didn’t usually pray before eating, but he joined quietly out of respect.

  When he took his first bite, his eyes widened. The omelet was soft, warm, and sweet — almost like a dream melting on his tongue. This is… better than what Mom makes, he thought guiltily.

  But the thought of his mother not being there, not returning yet, made his chest ache.

  Meanwhile, Reid devoured his plate like a starved beast. Within minutes, he was finished.

  “Mom, I’m gonna take a nap now,” he declared proudly.

  Melan?e chuckled. “Fine, but don’t forget to get ready for school afterward.”

  When Reid disappeared into his room, she turned to Lucius, her expression softening.

  “Are you excited for your next day, Lucius?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I hope I’ll learn new things today.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you will,” she said, eyes twinkling with amusement. “But… is that all you’re excited about?”

  Lucius froze, cheeks reddening slightly. He knew that Melan?e was talking about Lexy. “That’s it. Really.”

  She laughed gently. “Alright, I won’t press you, then.”

  They finished breakfast quietly after that — the kind of silence that felt safe. When it was time to leave, Melan?e roused Reid from his “nap,” and the three of them stepped out together.

  Lucius fastened his robe, adjusted his staff, and followed them down the sunlit path toward the school. The morning breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and promise — and though he didn’t know why, he felt lighter than he had in days.

  They arrived at school.

  The courtyard was as lively as it had been the day before — laughter, clinking weapons, and the sound of footsteps filling the air.

  Melan?e bent down and brushed their foreheads with her hand, a gesture as gentle as morning light.

  “Have a great day, you two,” she said with a warm smile before leaving them at the gate.

  Lucius and Reid split off toward their own halls. Today’s class for Lucius was Suppression — one he’d heard was both the hardest and most important for any young mage.

  As he walked down the corridor, he caught sight of Lexy. Her blonde curls just ending on her shoulders, shining softly in the morning light.

  Lucius froze.

  Maybe she was just trying to be friendly yesterday, he thought, glancing away quickly, hoping she wouldn’t notice him.

  He nearly made it through the classroom door when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Hey, Lucy! How are you doing?”

  Lucius stiffened. “Lucy?” he thought, eyes darting around to make sure no one heard.

  “Uh… fine,” he said aloud, his voice awkward. “But please don’t call me Lucy.”

  “Why are you embarrassed?” Lexy asked, laughter bubbling in her tone.

  Before he could reply, she leaned in mischievously and began to chant, “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy~”

  “Come on, stop!” Lucius hissed, trying to cover her mouth with his hand.

  They half-laughed, half-struggled until a shadow loomed over them.

  “Good morning, you two.”

  It was Ms. Shamlock. Her calm voice cut through the air like a spell itself. “Shall we begin our lecture?”

  Both froze instantly.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.

  The Suppression Class began.

  Ms. Shamlock moved gracefully to the front of the room, her violet robes rippling behind her.

  “A spell can only be cast if the caster controls their mana,” she began. Her tone was firm but calm. “If you attempt to use a spell without control, one of two things will happen. Either the spell fails… or it escapes your will entirely.”

  Her gaze swept across the students.

  “Don’t worry,” she added dryly, “the second case only happens when the caster’s mana exceeds its own limits — so in your cases, it will most likely be the first.”

  A few students laughed nervously.

  She placed a box on the desk and began handing out small candles, one to each of them.

  “Today,” she said, “you will use two basic spells — ignition and enhancement. First, ignite your candle. Then, control the enhancement of the flame. If you can demonstrate both clearly, you may leave early.”

  Lexy leaned over to Lucius with a teasing grin.

  “Hey, Lucy — I bet I’ll finish before you.”

  Lucius sighed. “Come on, Lexy. Don’t call me that.”

  “Alright,” she said, her grin widening. “If you beat me, I’ll stop. But if I win, you have to study with me tomorrow. Deal?”

  Lucius hesitated, then smirked a little. “Deal.”

  They turned to their candles.

  Lucius closed his eyes and drew in a steady breath. He felt for the mana within him, the quiet current flowing beneath his heartbeat — just as Ms. Shamlock had taught yesterday.

  The air around his palms shimmered faintly. A spark flickered.

  Then — whoosh.

  The candle ignited.

  A flicker of pride touched his face, but he wasn’t done.

  He raised his hand again, channeling more mana. The flame grew taller, steadier, brighter — the wax melting rapidly beneath the heat.

  He focused harder.

  Steady. Don’t lose control.

  The candlelight wavered, then sharpened to a thin, blue-edged flame.

  Lucius exhaled slowly, sweat beading on his forehead. He opened his eyes — and froze.

  Lexy was watching him, her chin resting in her palms, an amused smile curling on her lips.

  “You done yet?” she asked, giggling softly.

  Lucius blinked, realization dawning that she’d finished long before him. His jaw tightened, torn between annoyance and reluctant awe.

  When class ended, they showed their results to Ms. Shamlock, who nodded approvingly.

  Both passed.

  As they left the room for lunch, Lexy hummed the same tune from earlier under her breath — and every now and then, just loud enough for him to hear, she whispered,

  “Lucy~.”

  Out in the training grounds, the air buzzed with excitement.

  Mr. Hammock stood in the center of the field, his voice booming across the crowd of students.

  “Today,” he announced, “we’ll hold a small tournament — a series of one-on-one duels to test your fighting instincts.”

  A cheer rippled through the group.

  For most of them, it was their first real battle.

  For Reid, it was his first time wielding Genusrosa.

  Before the matches began, Mr. Hammock raised his hands. His mana shimmered in the air, spreading across the field like a wave.

  Tiny orbs of translucent light formed around each student — soft bubbles that glowed faintly in the sunlight.

  “What I’ve just cast on you,” he said, “are called guardian bubbles. They’ll protect you from weaker strikes. In your case—” a small grin tugged at his lips, “—they’ll probably stop every blow you can manage.”

  A ripple of laughter passed through the students.

  “When your bubble breaks, it’ll make a sharp whistle — that’s how we’ll know the match is over.”

  He clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s begin.”

  Reid’s first opponent was a boy with dark hair and a sword nearly as tall as himself. The weapon gleamed, heavy and oversized — almost comically so.

  At first, Reid’s heart pounded.

  Then the boy tried to lift his sword… and staggered.

  Reid couldn’t help the small grin that crept across his face.

  Mr. Hammock called out, “Ready?”

  Both nodded.

  “Three… two… one — start!”

  The boy swung first, a wild overhead slash. The blade cut through the air with a hiss, stopping just short of Reid’s nose. Reid stumbled back, adrenaline surging. Then instinct took over.

  He dropped low and spun aside, barely a breath away from the strike.

  Too close.

  Reid grabbed his nunchaku and swung — but misstepped and fell, landing flat on his back. The crowd gasped. The boy saw his chance and charged, sword raised.

  Dust exploded as the blade hit.

  The field went silent.

  “Did it…?” someone whispered.

  As the dust cleared, Reid stood — unharmed, eyes sharp. His guardian bubble still shimmered faintly around him.

  The boy’s jaw dropped.

  Reid smiled. “My turn.”

  He spun the nunchaku once, twice — then dashed forward. His movements blurred. His Beast Eye flared open, a glint of wild light crossing it.

  The sound of impact cracked through the air — a short, high whistle as the opponent’s guardian bubble shattered into sparks.

  Silence.

  Then cheers erupted across the training ground.

  Mr. Hammock, though clearly impressed, kept his voice calm. He approached, helped the other boy to his feet, and turned to the group.

  “Winner — Reid!”

  Reid lowered his weapon, trying (and failing) not to grin.

  When the tournament’s first round ended, the sun hung high and warm above them. Mr. Hammock gathered the students one last time.

  “Alright, everyone — that’s all for today’s duels.”

  He looked over the group, pride flickering in his eyes.

  “Congratulations to those who won. And for those who didn’t — watch, learn, and ask questions. Every defeat is a step toward mastery.”

  He paused, letting his words settle.

  “You’re all dismissed. Rest well — tomorrow, we continue.”

  The students cheered once more before scattering toward the gates, their voices fading into the golden afternoon.

  Reid lingered for a moment, glancing down at Genusrosa.

  Its silver edges gleamed faintly in the light.

  At the end of the day, both Lucius and Reid were smiling.

  “How did you do today?” Lucius asked.

  “I won a duel!” Reid grinned, puffing out his chest.

  Lucius smiled faintly — just as a voice cut across the courtyard.

  “See you tomorrow, Lucy!”

  Lexy darted past, waving playfully as she disappeared down the path.

  Reid blinked. Then started laughing — uncontrollably.

  “Lucy? HAHAHAHA”

  Lucius’s face darkened. “Stop it, Reid.”

  That only made Reid laugh harder.

  The lightheartedness carried them down the street… until they saw Melan?e.

  She stood waiting at the end of the road, her posture fragile. Her smile was gone.

  Her cheeks were streaked with the faint trace of dried tears.

  Reid slowed. “Mom…?”

  Her voice trembled as she spoke.

  “Hey, Reid. Could you go home by yourself today?”

  She hesitated, then looked toward Lucius. “Lucius and I need to go somewhere.”

  Reid frowned, confused, but nodded obediently and turned away.

  Lucius watched him go, unease twisting in his chest. Then he looked up at Melan?e — and the fear in her eyes told him everything his heart refused to understand.

  She reached out and took his hand. “Let’s go, Lucius.”

  The walk to his home was silent.

  The Venn-shaped window glimmered faintly ahead, its reflection warped — as if the house itself grieved.

  When they stepped inside, the air was heavy with whispers.

  Candlelight flickered across gathered faces. In the center of the room stood a coffin.

  Low prayers filled the air, blending with the crackle of burning wicks:

  “O Shenrog, Holy Flame of Life,

  One of your embers returns to you today.

  Their fire burned with kindness;

  Their warmth touched those who lived beside them.

  Now the wind has carried their flame home…”

  Lucius stepped forward slowly, his pulse fading into silence.

  He looked inside.

  And there she was.

  Frigg.

  His mother.

  Her face was still.

  Her hands were folded, pale and calm.

  Lucius didn’t cry. He didn’t speak. He only stood there, the world sinking around him, until everything went quiet.

  Melan?e placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. He didn’t react.

  When she tried to move closer, he finally spoke.

  “Can you leave?”

  The words were quiet — almost gentle — but carried a weight that made her chest ache.

  Melan?e wanted to refuse, to hold him, to tell him it would be alright.

  But she saw his eyes — hollow, distant — and she stepped away.

  One by one, the mourners left the house.

  Until only Lucius remained.

  He stood before the coffin, the candles’ light reflecting in his empty gaze.

  His thoughts spiraled — lost between disbelief and a quiet, simmering rage.

  He wasn’t sad. Not entirely.

  He wasn’t even shocked.

  Somehow, he had known this moment was coming.

  His soul felt empty, hollow. What filled him wasn’t sorrow.

  It was something else.

  Something violent.

  Something hungry.

  And in the silence, the words echoed again in his mind — cold and familiar:

  Accept your hunger.