The moon hung low in the night sky, casting pale light over the Valcrest Manor. Inside, all was still—except for the mind of Valen, now fully awake and scheming. He had spent the entire evening feigning weakness, carefully observing every movement, every glance exchanged among his so-called family.
'Fools,' he thought, sitting up slowly on his bed. 'They think they've outmaneuvered me, but they've barely begun to play the game.'
His fingers traced the veins of energy still pulsing through his body, the magic of this world fascinating him. He could already feel its potential. Magic, unlike anything he'd known before, was alive here—wild, raw, and begging to be mastered.
'But first, information.' He rose from the bed, testing the strength in his legs. Still weak, but improving. Moving to the window, he peered out at the sprawling estate. Shadows moved across the gardens below—guards, undoubtedly, patrolling through the night.
Valen's mind whirred. He would need to act quickly, but carefully. The poison had been a warning—someone wanted him dead, and he didn't doubt for a second that they would try again. 'I'll have to kill them first,' he mused, his lips curling into a dangerous smile.
---
The next morning, Valen played his part well. He acted the role of the frail, grateful son, thanking the healers, nodding respectfully to his father, and smiling sweetly at his mother. They bought it all.
His father, Lord Reynar Valcrest, patted him on the shoulder. "You're recovering well, son. Soon, you'll be strong enough to join me in the council. We'll make sure that traitor who poisoned you is dealt with."
'Dealt with?' Valen inwardly laughed. 'You'll do nothing. Weak men always hide behind empty promises.'
"Thank you, Father," Valen said, his voice full of false gratitude. "I trust you'll bring justice to the family."
He watched his father's face, seeing the flicker of doubt behind his eyes. His mother, too, was harder to read. She remained silent, but Valen knew she was calculating. She always was.
'Good,' he thought. 'Let them underestimate me. Let them believe they still have control.'
---
By nightfall, Valen was already formulating his plan. He had managed to access the family's library, a treasure trove of knowledge on the history of magic, warfare, and the politics of this world.
As he skimmed through books on magical theory, Valen's excitement grew. This world was bound by rules—clear rules that, with enough intelligence, could be broken or manipulated. Magic wasn't just a tool, it was a force. A weapon.
'I'll need a tutor,' he realized, closing one of the dusty tomes. 'Someone who can teach me the ways of this world's magic. But not a loyal servant—no, I need someone desperate. Someone who can be easily controlled.'
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.
"Young Master Valen, may I enter?" It was one of the house servants—Jorin, if he recalled correctly. An older man, trusted by his father but of no importance to Valen.
"Enter," Valen replied, keeping his tone neutral.
The door opened, and Jorin stepped inside, his eyes full of concern. "I have come to check on your health, young master. Your parents are worried—"
"I'm fine, Jorin," Valen cut him off, his gaze piercing through the servant. "But since you're here, tell me—who have you seen around the estate that doesn't belong?"
Jorin blinked in surprise. "I'm not sure what you mean, my lord. We have the usual guards, the servants—"
"Anyone new? Strangers? Travelers?"
Jorin hesitated, then spoke. "There was a new tutor who arrived recently. Master Davrick. He was sent from the capital to instruct the young nobles in magic theory. But I haven't seen him since your... incident."
'Perfect,' Valen thought, already seeing how this could play into his plans. "Thank you, Jorin. You may go."
As the door closed, Valen's smile returned.
---
The following evening, Valen made his move. He slipped out of his room under the cover of darkness, his small frame navigating the winding halls of Valcrest Manor with ease. He had memorized the routes taken by the guards. After all, he'd spent most of his recovery pretending to be asleep while they changed shifts and patrolled.
He needed to find Davrick.
The old tutor's chambers were in a secluded part of the manor, far from the eyes of most. As Valen approached, he noticed a faint light coming from beneath the door. He could hear the soft sound of pages turning, and his heart raced—not with fear, but with excitement.
'Time to meet my new pawn.'
Valen knocked softly, and after a moment, the door opened. Standing before him was a tall, thin man with sharp features and a worn face. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Valen.
"Young Master Valen," Davrick said, bowing his head slightly. "What are you doing out so late?"
"I need your help, Master Davrick," Valen said, his voice calm but firm. "I need you to teach me everything about magic."
Davrick frowned. "Your father has already arranged for your magical education to begin soon, once you're fully—"
"I'm not asking for my father's permission," Valen interrupted, stepping closer. "I'm asking for yours. I need to understand magic. All of it. Now."
The tutor hesitated, sensing the change in the boy's demeanor. There was something unsettling about Valen's gaze—something dangerous.
"Why the urgency, my lord?"
Valen leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Because if you don't help me, Master Davrick, I will ensure that you regret it for the rest of your life."
Davrick's eyes widened. There was no doubt in his mind now—this was no ordinary child.