A Rough Awakening

  In Mythril, the day began early and stretched late into the night. The windows were still covered in mist, blocking the faint traces of light from a lamp mounted outside. The glow struggled to penetrate the dimly lit room where Theron was sleeping. He had a habit of sleeping in, so the early morning bustle didn’t bother him—at least, not usually.

  Today, however, was different. He wasn’t in his own house. He was in Caidar’s mansion. His first night in such a luxurious place had been far from restful. The muffled chatter of workers and the steady rhythm of their footsteps outside were already irritating, but the real problem was the soldiers' morning drill. Their synchronized marching and shouted commands echoed through the walls, hammering into his skull.

  Caidar was the appointed noble overseeing Lyriandor’s military hub, and it showed. The distant roars of wyverns, the clanking of armor, and even the occasional cry of a dragon reinforced this reality. But at that moment, Theron didn’t care about any of it. He just wanted to sleep.

  Grumbling, he pulled a pillow over his head, hoping for even a moment’s peace. It worked—briefly—until his stomach let out a loud growl. That’s when he remembered: he hadn’t eaten last night. The long journey and the chaotic Sol fluctuations in the crowded city had drained him completely. All he had wanted was sleep.

  With another lazy groan, he rolled off the bed. Last night, exhaustion had kept him from paying attention to the room’s interior, but now, with fully opened eyes, he realized where he had spent the night. The room was nothing short of heaven—far more luxurious than anything he had ever slept in before.

  Curious, he made his way to the window and peeked outside. Even before Solaris fully rose over Lyriandor, the city was already bathed in a golden glow from countless magic lamps lining the streets. Below, workers were already busy in the garden. He rubbed his eyes and muttered, "I hate this place."

  Unfortunately, his voice carried. Some of the workers looked up in confusion, trying to find the source of the complaint. Startled, Theron ducked away—only to slam his forehead against the table next to the window. Groaning in pain, he staggered back.

  Still rubbing his head, he decided to leave his room. As he opened the door and took his first step outside, he was met with an unexpected ambush.

  A young boy—probably younger than Theron—was standing right outside his room, clearly waiting to scare him.

  The moment the kid jumped at him, Theron reacted on instinct. Without thinking, he swung his arm—his fist connecting squarely with the boy’s face. The kid stumbled backward and landed on the floor with a thud.

  A moment of silence.

  Then, the wailing began.

  Tears poured down his cheeks, his nose running uncontrollably. His once-fine clothes were now damp with snot and misery. Theron blinked in confusion, still trying to process what had just happened.

  "You’re the one who jumped at me! Stop crying!" he snapped, crouching down in an attempt to calm the kid. But deep inside, he had only one thought: Mom’s gonna kill me.

  To his surprise, the boy didn’t keep crying for long. Sniffling, rubbing his eyes, he glared up at Theron.

  "I only wanted to surprise you!"

  Then, without warning, he charged straight at him.

  Theron, being older and taller, easily held the boy back with one hand on his forehead. The kid flailed his arms, trying to reach him, but it was useless. In his struggle, his snot-covered face pressed against Theron’s hand.

  The moment Theron felt the warm, slimy mess, he recoiled in horror.

  "Ah—disgusting!"

  He let go immediately, and the kid—no longer being held back—fell forward, face-first onto the floor.

  Theron took a step back, shuddering. But this time, the boy didn’t cry. He sniffled, barely holding back his tears, then suddenly stood up again.

  One thing was clear—he wasn’t giving up.

  "Oh, come on…" Theron groaned as the kid lunged at him once more.

  Not wanting to get anywhere near the mess-covered child, Theron did the only reasonable thing—he ran.

  What started as a morning mishap quickly turned into a full-blown chase down the long hallway of Caidar’s mansion. The boy ran after him, his small but determined footsteps echoing behind.

  Unfortunately for both of them, a maid happened to be walking down the hallway. Seeing the chaotic scene unfold, she quickly spread her arms, trying to stop them in their tracks.

  Theron, moving too fast to stop, made a split-second decision—he dropped low and slid under her arms, barely avoiding collision.

  For a moment, he thought he was in the clear.

  Then, he felt a firm grip on his collar.

  Caught.

  The kid, however, wasn’t as lucky. The maid caught him effortlessly by the arm and held him in place. She let out an exasperated sigh, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with this.

  "Young Master, how many times do I have to tell you not to run in the hallways? And why are you bothering the guests this early in the morning?" She shook her head. "I’m telling Lord Caidar about this."

  The boy squirmed but couldn’t break free. Theron, on the other hand, managed to slip out of her grip and took a cautious step back.

  "Don't run away," the maid warned, giving him a sharp look. "I am your assigned caretaker. I’ll be taking you to your mother—she’s speaking with Lord Caidar."

  The kid, realizing escape was impossible, changed tactics. "I didn't do anything! He started it! I was only trying to surprise him!"

  The maid, unimpressed, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the boy’s tear-streaked, snot-covered face.

  She then turned to Theron, her gaze stern. "Is that true?"

  But Theron barely registered her question. His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting between hunger, exhaustion, and the lingering pressure of Sol energy in the mansion. He simply stared ahead, not bothering to respond.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The maid sighed. "Alright, come with me. Lady Lyra is preparing to leave for Kavermis—you should hurry if you want to see her before she departs."

  With that, she started dragging the kid toward the main hall.

  Theron followed silently, his expression blank.

  A Farewell and a Meal

  The mansion’s hallways stretched long, some offering a view of the beautiful gardens surrounding the estate. But Theron wasn’t interested in the scenery. He walked slowly, dragging his feet, his mind occupied by two things—food and the strange failure of his Sol-sensing ability.

  Normally, he would have easily detected the kid hiding in front of his room, but for some reason, he hadn’t sensed anything. As he tried to figure out why, his hunger grew stronger, his stomach letting out a low growl.

  Quickening his pace, he caught up to the maid, glancing briefly at the kid, now walking silently beside them, having given up on escaping.

  Theron turned to the maid. “Is there food where we’re going? I’m really hungry.”

  The maid looked at him in confusion. “Aren’t you worried about your mother leaving? If we stop to eat, she’ll be delayed.”

  Theron’s expression remained cold and unreadable. “She won’t leave without seeing me. She’ll wait. So, can I eat?”

  Something about his tone bothered the maid. His gaze, his lack of concern, his calm certainty—it all felt off.

  “But I was ordered to take you straight to her,” she said, hesitating slightly.

  Theron sighed, giving a small shrug. “Fine. I’ll eat after she leaves.”

  The maid nodded, but the unease in her chest remained.

  A few moments later, they arrived at a massive door with elegant golden patterns carved into its surface. The guards stepped forward, pushing it open.

  Inside was a grand hall, far more extravagant than the room Theron had slept in the night before.

  A beautifully crafted glass chandelier hung at the center, casting light over intricately painted floors. Plush couches lined the middle of the room, and two familiar figures stood inside—Lyra, seated and waiting for Theron, and Caidar, standing on the other side, speaking to his assistant.

  His arms were crossed behind his back, his posture composed—the stance of a noble knight.

  As the maid led Theron and Galen inside, Caidar turned toward them. “Ah, here they are. So, what did Galen do this time?”

  Lyra turned as well, a worried smile on her face.

  The maid let out a sigh and bowed slightly. “Good morning, sir. The young master was caught troubling the guest this morning.”

  Caidar chuckled, glancing at Theron. “I see. Sorry—did he give you any trouble?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Well, this is a good time to introduce myself properly. I’m Caidar, and the troublemaker here is Galen. He doesn’t live here, but you’ll be seeing him often.”

  He gestured toward the maid.

  “Your caretaker is Mirelle. She’ll be looking after you, so behave yourself. She might be old, but don’t let that fool you—she’s strict.”

  Then, as if considering something, he added, “Maybe you and Galen could even become friends.”

  Theron’s face immediately twisted in disgust as he suddenly remembered his snot-covered hands from earlier.

  Galen scowled. “I will never be friends with him! He punched me in the face!”

  Though Theron’s punch hadn’t been particularly strong, it was enough for Galen to feel it. Now, as the tears had dried, the impact of the punch was becoming more visible—his cheek turning red.

  Caidar raised an eyebrow. “What…?”

  Lyra immediately stood up, her voice sharp. “Why did you punch him?”

  Before she could continue, Caidar intervened smoothly. “I doubt this was Theron’s fault.” His gaze turned to Galen, sharp and knowing. “This boy isn’t as innocent as he looks.”

  Galen hesitated under Caidar’s firm stare before mumbling, “I was just trying to surprise him… you know, by jump-scaring him.”

  Caidar exhaled in mild disbelief. “Why would you ever think that was a good idea?”

  After a brief pause, he waved his hand. “Go to your lessons. Isn’t it already time for your classes?”

  Galen grumbled but reluctantly dragged his feet toward the door.

  Before he left, Caidar turned to Mirelle. “Go apply some ointment to his face before he goes outside.”

  Mirelle nodded and followed after him.

  Lyra, still watching Theron closely, spoke softly. “Sorry for the trouble Theron caused. I’m grateful that you’re letting him stay here, but I can only ask that you forgive his behavior.”

  Caidar smiled. “No need to worry. It would be fine. As for Galen, this is common for him—I could probably celebrate if he stayed out of trouble for a week.”

  Lyra chuckled, though her smile was tinged with sadness. She lifted her hand, gesturing for Theron to come closer.

  As he approached, she pulled him into a final hug before her departure.

  Tears streamed down her face, but there were no words—only emotions filling the air.

  Theron didn’t show much emotion, but he slowly patted her back, an awkward yet gentle attempt to comfort her.

  After a moment, Lyra pulled away, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. She turned to Caidar.

  “We are indebted to your gratitude. My husband was lucky to have had a friend such as you.”

  Caidar, however, shook his head before she could continue.

  “No, it was I who was lucky to have known a man like Kaelion.” His tone was quiet but firm. “I am doing this to honor my friendship and knighthood, and nothing more.”

  Lyra gave a deep bow, before turning back to Theron.

  She patted his back one last time before heading toward the exit. A guard stepped forward, guiding her to the escort waiting to take her to the waystone for her journey.

  As Lyra walked out, Theron waved his hand low. He wasn’t sad nor happy, his emotions a mix of many things.

  But just before she disappeared, Lyra looked back one last time.

  This time, Theron had tears in his eyes but a smile on his face. He smiled to assure her that he would be okay.

  And with that, Lyra disappeared.

  Theron suddenly rubbed his tears away as Caidar stepped forward to comfort him.

  But to his surprise, he didn’t know how fast Theron’s mood could change.

  Theron looked up at Caidar and said, "I am hungry."

  Caidar hesitated, recalling Lyra’s words about Theron’s personality. This was not what he had imagined.

  "Are you alright? It must be tough for you to say goodbye. She won’t be back for a while. Maybe you should go outside and send her off properly?"

  Theron’s expression remained firm. "That would only make her sadder."

  Caidar blinked in surprise. Then, realization dawned.

  Lyra had told him Theron was mature beyond his years, but only now did he truly understand.

  With a quiet smile, he simply nodded.

  Through the Veil of Mist

  The farewell was simple, and Theron had already begun his morning meal. But as Lyra approached the waystone, a sense of unease crept over her. As an Oracle, she could sense the shifting tides of fate, a change in the air that only she could perceive. Something was brewing—an unseen force shaping the future. Yet, all she could do was hope for the best and fulfill her duty.

  Reaching the waystone, she paid the transport fee and stepped inside the designated magic circle. A robed figure in golden attire—one of the Holy Assembly’s transporters—oversaw the waystone’s activation. The massive blue crystal at the center of the circle floated effortlessly in the air, pulsing with arcane energy. A column of blue light shot skyward from its core, marking its connection to the greater network of waystones.

  The worker turned to her. “Where shall your destination be, miss?”

  “Kavermis, the Oracle’s Academy,” Lyra replied.

  Kavermis, an isolated nation within eastern Ardrath, was completely enclosed by towering mountain ranges. The rugged terrain formed a natural barrier, shielding the Oracle’s Academy from the outside world.

  The worker nodded and adjusted the magic circle’s configuration. As the incantation was cast, the glowing runes on the ground shifted, aligning with the corresponding symbol for Kavermis. The column of light from the crystal flickered for a moment before erupting in a brilliant burst, engulfing Lyra in its radiance.

  In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

  The journey between nations took mere seconds, and when the light faded, Lyra found herself standing in a remote yet familiar place. Mist curled around the stone-paved roads, obscuring much of the surroundings. Only the jagged peaks of the mountains piercing through the fog were visible.

  The roads were designed to confuse intruders, leading them in endless loops or sending them back to the outskirts of Kavermis. Unauthorized entry to the Oracle’s Academy was nearly impossible. But for Lyra, who had spent years training within these walls, the path was second nature.

  She took a deep breath, then reached for the sacred tome at her waist—The Symphony of Life. Every Oracle carried a copy, a book filled with hundreds of incantations, each reflecting a different phase of existence. Flipping to a familiar page, she recited a passage.

  As she finished, a faint glow emerged within the mist—a shimmering bird of light, its form woven from pure Sol. Unlike mere illusions, this celestial guide was the only way through the ever-shifting paths of Kavermis. Without its guidance, one could wander for eternity, never reaching the Academy.

  The radiant bird circled once before darting forward into the fog. Lyra extended her hand as if to grasp its presence, then followed its path without hesitation. The winding roads, which once seemed endless, now revealed a single true path before her.

  Before long, she arrived at an imposing gate of stone and wood, its surface engraved with ancient symbols—the true entrance to the Oracle’s Academy.

  The towering gates were guarded by armored sentinels, though unlike the Holy Assembly’s soldiers, these warriors bore the insignia of the Divine Mother. As Lyra approached, one of them stepped forward, questioning her presence. She answered promptly, and after a brief exchange, the gate began to open.

  A new world lay beyond.

  Unlike the mist-covered wilderness outside, the land within the gates was structured and orderly. The Academy was not a single institution but a vast domain consisting of multiple districts. Grand halls dedicated to teaching and research stood alongside temples, libraries, and living quarters for scholars, priests, and students. The presence of sacred magic was palpable in the air, a reminder of the Oracle’s deep connection to Sol.

  At the heart of it all stood the magnificent Grand Cathedral, its towering spires reaching toward the heavens, a testament to devotion and power.

  Lyra inhaled deeply, taking in the sight. Though she had spent years here, returning now felt… different. The place had not changed much since she left, yet something within her had.

  And so, with quiet resolve, she stepped forward into the past she had once called home.

  “ Thank you for reading Veins of the Void! If you enjoyed the story, please consider following or leaving any kind of interaction—it really helps motivate me to keep writing more chapters. Your support means a lot! ”