As far back as memory serves,

'Your Majesty, I regret to inform you that the child is blind and shows little aptitude for mana.'

my existence has been marked by nothing but scorn and ridicule.

In the royal gardens, my elder brother Valerian, with his sharp wit and silver tongue, would mock my stumbling steps, weaving spells to trip me up, laughing as I groped blindly for balance.

My peers would whisper behind my back, questioning my place among them, sneering at my inability to wield even the simplest magic.

During courtly gatherings, noble ladies would feign sympathy while exchanging knowing glances, pitying the 'poor blind prince' destined to fade into obscurity. They whispered behind delicate fans, speculating on my future and lamenting my lack of prospects in hushed tones that reached my ears nonetheless.

'Mom,' I would whisper, my voice barely audible in the grandeur of her chamber. 'Will you tell me a story?'

She would turn to me, her expression true to her disdain. 'Not now, Theron,' her voice laced with impatience. 'Must you always cling to me like a shadow? You are a burden I have no time for.'

Years passed by, my interactions with Queen Amara becoming increasingly strained. She would visit less frequently, her gaze filled with disappointment whenever it did land upon me. The birth of Cedric only exacerbated the divide; he was everything I was not—charming, gifted in magic, and a prospect destined to inherit the throne.

Yet despite the constant mockery and disdain, I persevered, navigating the palace grounds with a stick, my back slightly hunched from Cedric's "practice" spells gone awry. His attempts at magic often left me stumbling and bruised, yet I endured, refusing to let his cruelties break my resolve.

Each day, I ventured into the gardens alone, where the whispering trees and rustling leaves offered solace. I practiced my own form of magic there—not spells and incantations, but the quiet mastery of senses that compensated for my lack of sight. I learned to discern the subtle shifts in the air, the faint scent of flowers heralding the changing seasons, and the gentle touch of sunlight filtering through the branches.

In those moments, I found refuge from the harsh realities of court life. The laughter of my brothers and the pitying gazes of nobles faded into the background, replaced by the symphony of nature's rhythms that whispered secrets only I could hear.

Yet, beneath the veneer of resilience, a yearning for strength simmered—a desire not just to survive, but to thrive despite my circumstances. It was a hope that fueled my determination to prove myself capable, not only in the eyes of the court but within the depths of my own soul.

As I walked through the palace corridors, my footsteps echoing in the silence, I carried with me the weight of expectations and the burden of my own limitations. But amidst it all, I held onto a quiet conviction that one day, my journey would lead me to a destiny beyond the confines of scorn and ridicule—a destiny where even the blind could see the truth that lay hidden beneath the surface of appearances.