1. Inheritance
The faint glow of candlelight cast a frail warmth over Ciro Zarek's office, but even the delicate flicker could not dispel the cold air of judgment that filled the room. Shelves of meticulously organized books lined the walls, the scent of ink and leather thick in the air. Seated at his desk, with his ever-present quill scratching across parchment, was Ciro— a man whose piercing eyes and rigid posture seemed carved from stone.
In the center of the room, dwarfed by the imposing desk, stood six-year-old Riven Zarek. Clutched in his small, trembling hands was a piece of parchment decorated with a bright A+. He'd barely slept, hours of intense study leading up to this moment. His chest tightened, anticipation warring with a gnawing dread. But in the dim glow, Riven saw only the potential for pride in his father's eyes.
"Father," Riven began, voice soft yet quivering. "I... I came first in my class."
Silence hung thick in the air, stretching between them like a chasm. Ciro's eyes flicked up, icy and expressionless. He gave a cursory glance at the paper before his lips twisted into a cold, dismissive smirk.
"Is this supposed to impress me?" His voice was low, each word sharp and cutting. "An A+ from your class? What of it? I expect nothing less. Pride? You've done nothing to earn it."
The words were ice water over Riven's heart, snuffing out the hope he'd kindled. Every ounce of effort, every late-night study, all his silent attempts to win approval crumbled in an instant. His hand fell to his side, the paper crumpling in his grip as his lips trembled. He swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill, but his heart, young and tender, fractured beneath his father's words.
"But… I tried so hard," Riven whispered, his voice a plea wrapped in sorrow.
Ciro's gaze hardened, his lip curling in a sneer. "Trying is for those who lack skill. If you had true worth, you wouldn't need to try so hard." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a cold whisper. "You're weak, Riven. No amount of studying will change that."
A spark of defiance flared within Riven, anger surging in the wake of despair. "You're wrong! I'll prove it to you. I'll become stronger— so strong that… that even you'll respect me!"
For a brief second, he thought he saw something flicker in his father's gaze— some hint of recognition or perhaps surprise. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced with scorn. "Respect? You haven't earned even that, boy. Don't delude yourself."
Riven's chest heaved as his emotions twisted within him— pain, anger, longing, all colliding. Unable to bear his father's cold stare a moment longer, he spun on his heel and fled from the room. His rapid footsteps echoed through the hall, the sound amplifying his sense of isolation. He passed the butler, who looked at him with concern, but Riven ignored it, dashing through the massive mansion until he flung open the front door and stumbled out into the night.
Outside, the sky had opened up, rain pouring down in relentless sheets, as if nature itself mourned alongside him. The storm raged with a fury that matched his own, each clap of thunder resounding like the ache in his heart. He ran through the muddy streets, his small feet slipping as puddles splashed around him. Each step took him further from the mansion, from his father's disdain, from the weight of never being enough.
Finally, his legs gave way, and he collapsed to his knees in the middle of a dark, deserted path. The rain pelted down on him, soaking his clothes and plastering his hair to his forehead. But Riven didn't care. His sobs mixed with the storm, his small frame shuddering as he gasped for breath.
"Why…" he choked, barely audible over the downpour. "Why does he hate me? What did I do wrong?"
His mother had died moments after giving birth to him so he had never experienced any form of parental love.
The storm's roar seemed to answer him, a fierce howl rising with the wind. His head lifted slowly, the tears mingling with rain as he blinked up at the sky. A strange, shadowed figure loomed within the storm clouds, shifting and coiling as if it were alive. His heart froze, the primal part of him screaming to run, but he remained rooted, his eyes wide with awe and fear.
A monstrous roar tore through the sky, shaking the ground beneath him. Lightning illuminated the figure, revealing the immense, sinuous form of a dragon— its scales black as obsidian, its eyes a piercing white that seemed to see through him, deep into his soul.
As he gazed up at the dragon, Riven's fear slowly gave way to something else— an inexplicable pull, as if he were bound to this creature by something beyond mortal understanding. His heart pounded, but this time it wasn't out of fear. It was… recognition.
"Is this the human who wishes to bear my legacy?" The dragon's voice was a low rumble, resonant and ancient, each word charged with a power that reverberated through Riven's bones.
Riven flinched, instinctively clutching his arms over his head. "L-Leave me alone!" he cried, but even as he said it, he couldn't tear his gaze away from those otherworldly eyes.
The dragon chuckled, a deep, unsettling sound that seemed to echo from the storm itself. "Weakness is in your blood, yet I see a spark— a spark that defies even fate. Such contradiction… interests me."
Riven forced himself to his feet, trembling as he met the dragon's gaze. The urge to flee warred with a newfound, desperate hope— a chance to be something more, something beyond his father's cruel words.
"W-What do you want from me?" he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
The dragon's eyes narrowed, glowing with an intense, ethereal light. "I have watched you, boy. And I offer you a choice— a legacy forged in power beyond mortal comprehension, a chance to defy your limits and carve your own path. But power demands a price."
Riven swallowed, his heart hammering as he felt the weight of those words. "A price?" His voice shook, but he didn't back down, lifting his chin as he steadied himself.
"Yes," the dragon rumbled. "You shall wield the power of the Astral Magus, yet it will test you. Betray your fear, forsake weakness, and prove your worth. When the time comes, you must stand beside my kind— the Astral Dragons— or be consumed by the very power you seek."
The words washed over Riven, filling him with a strange mixture of dread and exhilaration. He could feel the magic thrumming in the air, coiling around him, waiting for his answer.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Despite everything, despite his father's scorn, a fierce resolve welled up within him. For the first time, he felt…worthy. Needed.
He clenched his fists, his gaze unwavering as he looked up at the dragon. "Yes. I accept. I'll take your power and prove myself worthy— I swear it."
The dragon's laughter was a terrifying, magnificent sound, echoing through the storm. "So be it, Riven Zarek, heir of the Astral Magus. Your fate is sealed."
In an instant, a bolt of lightning struck Riven, flooding him with a raw, ancient energy that burned through his veins, searing him with the mark of the Astral Magus. He screamed, pain and ecstasy mingling as his body absorbed the power. And as the energy settled, he knew he had been forever changed.