The sun poured through the grand windows of the Ellucia estate, casting golden light on the polished marble floors. Xarath Ellucia stood before the long mirror in his chamber, adjusting the ceremonial sash that draped across his broad shoulders. His father's voice still echoed in his ears from the previous evening's dinner.

"Strength, Xarath. The Ellucia name is a fortress. It will not be weakened by compassion."

Xarath tightened the sash and exhaled slowly, his gray-blue eyes scanning his reflection. His heart felt heavier than the armor he rarely wore. Why must strength always mean cruelty? Can't power coexist with kindness? He shook the thought away as a knock came at the door.

"Enter," Xarath said, his voice calm but edged with fatigue.

The door creaked open, revealing Xia, his eldest sister. Dressed in her usual leather battle attire, her presence filled the room with an air of dominance.

"Still playing dress-up, brother?" Xia smirked, her sharp features mirroring their father's. "The ceremony is starting soon. Don't keep Father waiting. He's already questioning why he bothered having you."

Xarath met her gaze but didn't respond immediately. Instead, he grabbed a simple leather-bound journal from his desk and tucked it into his coat pocket. She thrives in conflict. Every word she speaks is a dagger, meant to remind me of my shortcomings.

"I'll be there shortly," he replied, his tone even.

Xia leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "You know, Xarath, it's not too late to step aside. Let Ella or Mai take your place as heir. At least they understand what it means to carry the Ellucia legacy."

"I've already made my decision," Xarath said firmly. "I'll fulfill my role in my own way."

Xia laughed—a sharp, mocking sound. "Your way? Kindness and charity won't win wars, Xarath. You'll lead this house into ruin."

She left without another word, her boots clicking against the marble as she disappeared down the corridor. Xarath closed his eyes and let the silence of the room settle over him.

Later That Morning – The Garden

The ceremony had ended hours ago, but Xarath found himself retreating to the estate's garden, his sanctuary. Rows of vibrant flowers swayed in the breeze, their colors a stark contrast to the cold, gray halls of the Ellucia estate. Xarath sat on a stone bench, the journal open in his lap. He scribbled a few lines, his thoughts spilling onto the page.

Strength is a word Father wields like a weapon. To him, it means dominance, fear, and control. But strength, true strength, is found in love and understanding. Why can't they see that? Why must I always be wrong?

His hand paused, the quill hovering above the paper. Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him.

"You always hide here when you're troubled," a soft voice said.

Xarath turned to see Ella, his second sister, holding a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Her auburn hair was tied back in a braid, and her green eyes were softer than Xia's but no less calculating.

"I wouldn't call it hiding," Xarath replied, closing the journal. "I prefer the company of the flowers to the scorn of our siblings."

Ella chuckled lightly and sat beside him, setting her bow down. "You've always been... different, Xarath. You see the world in a way none of us do. Sometimes I envy that. But... you're making it harder for yourself."

"Harder?" Xarath arched an eyebrow. "By treating people with respect? By showing kindness instead of cruelty?"

Ella sighed and rested her elbows on her knees. "The world isn't kind, Xarath. You know that. Father's methods may be harsh, but they've kept this family at the top for generations. If you want to survive—if you want to lead—you have to adapt."

"And if adapting means becoming like him?" Xarath shook his head. "Then I'd rather fail."

Ella didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stared at the horizon, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the stone bench. "Just... be careful. The rest of us may not agree with you, but that doesn't mean we want to see you fall."

Xarath glanced at her, searching for sincerity in her words. There was a flicker of warmth, but it was quickly masked by her usual stoicism. Before he could reply, she stood and picked up her bow.

"The others are practicing for the battle tomorrow," she said. "You should join us. You'll need all the help you can get."

"I'll think about it," Xarath said, though he knew he wouldn't.

Evening – The Dining Hall

The Ellucia family gathered around the massive dining table, the air thick with tension. Llama the 3rd sat at the head, his piercing gaze sweeping over his children. Xarath felt the weight of that gaze and straightened in his chair.

"Tomorrow's battle will determine who among you is most fit to lead," Llama announced, his voice booming. "Xia, Ella, Mai—you have all proven yourselves in countless ways. Xarath..." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You have yet to show me you're capable of anything."

Xarath clenched his fists beneath the table but forced his expression to remain neutral. It doesn't matter what I say. He's already decided I'm a failure.

"I'll fight," Xarath said, his voice steady. "Not to prove myself to you, but to prove that strength can mean something more."

Xia laughed, breaking the heavy silence. "Something more? Like losing gracefully?"

"Enough," Llama barked, silencing her. He turned back to Xarath. "You speak of ideals, boy, but ideals won't win wars. Let's see if your resolve holds when you face your sisters in combat."

Xarath nodded, his jaw tightening. He glanced at Mai, the youngest, who was quietly twirling a small flame between her fingers. She smirked at him, her golden eyes glowing like embers. Even Mai sees me as weak. Can I truly stand against them?

As the family dispersed, Llama stopped Xarath at the door. "Remember this, Xarath: if you fail tomorrow, you won't just disgrace yourself. You'll disgrace the Ellucia name."

Xarath's Chamber – Night

The moonlight spilled into Xarath's room as he sat by the window, gazing at the darkened horizon. His journal lay open on the desk, but he couldn't bring himself to write.

Why do I keep trying? No matter what I do, I'll never be what they want. But if I stop trying... what's left of me?

He clenched the pendant around his neck, a gift from his mother—one of the few memories he had of her. "I'll prove them wrong," he whispered into the night. "Not with their definition of strength, but with my own."

With that, Xarath closed his eyes, bracing himself for the battles to come.