Drake moved through the empty halls of the Solaris estate like a ghost. His footsteps barely made a sound against the polished marble floors, though he doubted anyone would be listening. The whispers had faded, the judgment had been cast, and the world had already turned against him. Now, there was only silence.
He stopped outside a familiar door—Celia's room.
For a moment, he hesitated. His sister had always been the one person he could turn to. If there was anyone who might stand by him, it would be her. But would she dare defy their father?
His hand hovered over the wooden surface before he finally knocked.
The door cracked open almost immediately, and Celia's face appeared, her expression tight with worry. She pulled him inside without a word, shutting the door behind him. The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered. "Father won't forgive you for this."
Drake let out a humorless laugh. "He's already disowned me, Celia. What more can he do?"
She flinched, her hands gripping the fabric of her robes. "I—I don't know what to say."
Drake studied her face, searching for something—anger, defiance, hope. Instead, all he saw was fear. It settled deep in his gut like a weight he couldn't shake.
"You didn't say anything," he finally said, his voice quiet but filled with something raw. "When he cast me out, you just stood there."
Celia turned away, her shoulders stiff. "What could I have done?"
"You could have spoken up," he said, frustration creeping into his tone. "You could have told them I was still your brother."
"And what would that have changed?" she snapped, spinning back toward him. "You don't understand, Drake. Going against Father isn't just dangerous—it's impossible. I could have pleaded for you, I could have begged, and it wouldn't have mattered."
Drake clenched his fists. "So you chose to stay silent."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I chose to survive."
The words hit harder than any spell. He had always believed that, no matter what, Celia would be on his side. That blood meant something. But the truth was as plain as the sorrow on her face—she was afraid. Afraid of what it would mean to stand with him.
"I can't leave," she whispered. "I wish I could, but I can't."
Drake exhaled slowly, forcing the lump in his throat down. "Then this is goodbye."
Celia stepped forward, as if she wanted to reach for him, to say something more. But she hesitated. And then she let her hands fall to her sides.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
Drake didn't have the strength to answer. He turned, stepping through the door without another word.
The halls of the estate had never felt so empty.
And this time, when he walked away, he knew there would be no one following him.
The city had never felt this cold before. The stone streets, once familiar and welcoming, now stretched before him like a maze of judgmental eyes and whispered condemnation. The noble district, where he had once walked with confidence as a Solaris, now felt alien, its gleaming towers and pristine pathways no longer belonging to him. The air carried the quiet hum of voices—whispers that followed him wherever he went.
"That's him."
"I heard he was cursed."
"His father threw him out, didn't he?"
Drake gritted his teeth, pulling the hood of his cloak tighter around his face. The weight of their stares pressed against him like an unseen force, but he refused to let them see how much it stung. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction.
He wandered through the winding streets, past shops he had once visited, past people who had once greeted him with respect. Now, merchants avoided his gaze, and old friends turned their backs. Even those who pitied him kept their distance.
A reminder—he was alone.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows between the buildings. He had spent hours walking with no real destination, trying to silence the storm of emotions raging inside him. Every street, every turn, only made the truth sink deeper into his bones. There was no place for him here.
Drake's feet finally led him to the city's outskirts, where the grand estate of the Solaris family loomed in the distance. For a moment, he considered returning—demanding answers, pleading with his father to reconsider. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. His father's judgment was final.
The mansion might as well have been a world away. He wasn't welcome there anymore.
A sudden sharp pain shot through his stomach. Hunger. He hadn't eaten since the morning of his trial, and the gnawing emptiness was becoming harder to ignore. He reached into his cloak's pocket, fingers brushing against a few small coins—hardly enough for a proper meal.
As he turned down a quieter alley, he spotted a small bakery, the scent of fresh bread filling the air. A boy, perhaps a year younger than him, sat outside, gnawing on a crust of bread. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, yet his eyes were defiant. A street rat.
Drake hesitated. Just a few days ago, he would have pitied the boy. Now, he realized he wasn't so different. He was just another outcast now.
Shaking off the thought, he stepped inside the bakery. The warmth of the ovens wrapped around him like a forgotten embrace. The baker, a stout man with flour-streaked arms, eyed him warily as he approached the counter. Drake placed a few coins down. "Just a roll."
The baker's gaze flickered to his hooded appearance, to the insignia embroidered on his cloak—the mark of the Solaris house. A slow frown settled on his face.
"We don't serve your kind," the man muttered, shoving the coins back toward him.
Drake's fingers curled into a fist. "I'm just trying to buy some bread."
The baker's eyes darkened. "You think I'd risk angering Lord Solaris by feeding a disgrace? Get out."
Anger flared in Drake's chest, but he swallowed it down. He had no power here, no authority to argue. Without another word, he turned and walked out, shoving the coins back into his pocket.
The boy outside watched him, smirking slightly. "Guess they don't want you either, huh?"
Drake exhaled sharply, giving the boy one last glance before walking away. No. They didn't.
The truth settled heavily in his chest. He didn't belong here. Not anymore.
His feet carried him toward the city gates before he even realized where he was going. The docks weren't far. Ships came and went every day, carrying merchants, scholars, and hopeful young mages. Maybe that was his only option.
Maybe it was time to leave.
For good.
Drake had spent the entire day wandering the streets, but no matter where he went, the weight in his chest remained the same. There was nothing left for him here. No home, no family, no future. The streets of his childhood were now foreign, filled with people who either feared or despised him. Even the city itself, once a place of familiarity and comfort, now rejected him at every turn.
But there was one place he had to visit before he left.
The graveyard rested on a quiet hill overlooking the city, far removed from the bustling streets. As Drake made his way up the path, the cool evening breeze carried the scent of damp earth and the faint rustle of leaves. The further he walked, the quieter everything became, as though the city itself had faded into the distance.
He had not been here since the funeral.
His mother's grave was near the center, marked by a smooth marble headstone engraved with delicate golden script. Elara Solaris. Loving Mother, Devoted Healer.
Drake knelt beside it, staring at the name for what felt like an eternity. His fingers traced the letters, memories flickering through his mind—her warm smile, the way she used to hum while reading, the way her laughter had once filled their home. She had always been the gentlest presence in his life, the one person who had made him feel safe.
Now she was gone. And so was he.
His hands clenched into fists. "What would you say if you were here?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Would you look at me like they did? Like I'm something to be ashamed of?"
The wind carried no answer.
His throat tightened. "I didn't ask for this." He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I didn't want Dark magic. I didn't want to lose everything." His shoulders trembled. "But I did."
He had spent the past few days fighting against it—against the reality of his exile, against the idea that his father could truly throw him away so easily. But here, in the silence of the graveyard, he couldn't run from the truth anymore. His father had never hesitated. Celia had been too afraid to fight for him. The people he had grown up with had turned on him in an instant.
It didn't matter what he wanted.
The past was gone.
Drake exhaled shakily, his fingers brushing the cool marble once more. "I thought I'd always be here. I thought I'd carry the Solaris name." He let out a bitter chuckle. "Guess I was wrong."
He sat in silence for a long time. The sky had begun to darken, the stars blinking into existence one by one. A part of him wanted to stay, as if lingering would somehow bring him the answers he so desperately wanted. But he already knew what he had to do.
He had to leave.
Slowly, he rose to his feet. He cast one last glance at his mother's grave, forcing himself to memorize every detail.
"I won't be back," he murmured. "But I'll make sure you're not forgotten."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the only piece of his past that had ever truly felt like home behind.
As he made his way down the path, the distant glow of the docks called to him. The Academy's ships were docked there, preparing for their journey upriver.
It was time to go.
And this time, he wouldn't look back.
There was only one place left to go.
Drake climbed the worn steps leading to his mother's grave, the marble headstone illuminated by the pale moonlight. He knelt beside it, resting a trembling hand on the carved name.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered.
The wind carried no answer.
He was alone now.
But he wouldn't let that stop him.
He wiped his eyes, stood, and turned toward the distant docks.
It was time to leave.
Drake walked the streets of his former home like a ghost, his cloak pulled tight around his shoulders. The city had once been his world, a place where he had walked with pride, where people had nodded in respect as he passed. Now, those same people whispered behind his back, their voices hushed but sharp, cutting into him like blades.
"That's him."
"The Solaris disgrace."
"I heard his own father cast him out without a second thought."
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to keep walking. He couldn't afford to react, couldn't afford to show weakness. Weakness had already cost him everything.
The noble district's gleaming streets gave way to the merchant quarter, where the scent of baked bread and fresh fruit filled the air. Here, the whispers faded into the general bustle of the marketplace. Vendors called out their wares, children darted between stalls, and the city moved on, uncaring of the exile that walked among them. For a fleeting moment, he imagined he was just another citizen, another face in the crowd, not an outcast whose name had become a stain on his family's legacy.
Drake found himself standing before a familiar shop—the old bookshop he had often visited in his younger years. The door was slightly ajar, warm candlelight flickering from within. He remembered the afternoons spent tucked away in the back corner, poring over ancient tomes about magic, adventure, and legendary mages. A time when he had believed he would one day stand among them.
His fingers twitched at his sides. A part of him longed to step inside, to lose himself in the comfort of knowledge, but reality quickly snapped back into place. He was not that boy anymore. He had no coin, no home, and soon, no city.
Instead, he turned away, heading toward the lower districts. Here, the streets grew narrower, the buildings more haphazardly placed, wooden structures leaning on one another as if struggling to stand upright. The scent of damp stone and unwashed bodies clung to the air. This was where the forgotten people lived—the ones who had no place among the nobles, no magic to make them valuable. And if he stayed, it was where he would end up, just another beggar trying to survive.
He shoved his hands into his cloak pockets, keeping his gaze forward. He didn't need to linger here longer than necessary. He needed a way out.
A sharp voice caught his attention.
"I don't care what his bloodline is," a man muttered from a nearby alleyway. "The academy ships leave tomorrow. Taking all the mage recruits up the river."
Drake stilled, barely daring to breathe.
"Yeah," another voice replied. "Heard they're stopping at every major town on the way. Only those with an element get on, though. No exceptions. Security's tighter this year after what happened in the last intake."
Drake's heart pounded. The Academy. It was the only place left for him. The only place that might take him in, if he could find a way aboard.
He stepped deeper into the shadows, listening as the men continued their discussion. Apparently, some students had tried to sneak onto the ships in previous years, only to be caught and sent back home in shame. That wouldn't happen to him. He couldn't afford failure.
His mind was already working through possibilities. The docks would be heavily guarded, with the ships only accepting those who had proven their abilities. If he had still been a recognized Solaris, he could have walked aboard without question. Now, he was just another nobody. A Dark mage with nothing to his name.
Drake exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had to get on that ship.
No matter the cost.
The city no longer wanted him, but the world was vast, and if the Academy was his only chance, then he would take it—no matter the cost.