Lazros trudged through the familiar halls of his family's mansion, his steps slow and heavy. The mansion was grand, a reflection of the prestigious family—his family, a bloodline that had held sway over the Kingdom of Zephyria for generations. His father, Lysander Silvershade, the 45-year-old Duke, had built their legacy through power, wealth, and influence. A master of magic, Lysander had reached the pinnacle of sorcery—an 8-circle mage—one of only four in the entire kingdom to have achieved such a feat.
Yet, despite the grandeur surrounding him, Lazros felt a deep sense of emptiness.
He wasn't like his siblings.
Lysander had four sons and two daughters, each one a prodigy in their own right. They were the pride of the family. But Lazros was different. He was the youngest, just 16 years old, and by far the weakest. He had not yet opened his magical circle—a rite of passage that all mages went through to unlock their full potential. His siblings had all passed this milestone long ago, each rising to incredible heights of power. Lazros, however, had yet to even begin. He often felt like a shadow in the presence of his elder siblings, each of them a shining example of what the family expected.
His eldest brother, Lynar Silvershade, 25 years old, was a 6-circle mage, a rare talent for his generation. His mastery of magic was nearly unparalleled, and he had already become a knight-captain in the royal army, respected by both allies and enemies alike.
Then there was Lunara Silvershade, the 23-year-old elemental mage with a deep affinity for ice magic. A 4th-circle mage, Lunara was on the cusp of reaching the 5th circle, and she was considered the strongest female mage of her generation. Her mastery over ice magic made her an irreplaceable asset to both the family and the kingdom, able to control the cold to a terrifying degree.
Lunessa Silvershade, 22 years old, was a healer, specializing in both restoration and support magic. She had reached the 4th circle at a young age and had already become the most powerful healing mage of her generation. Her talents had saved countless lives, making her the most beloved of the children, her compassion as powerful as her magic.
At 19, Lurian was a 3rd-circle mage with a focus on magic martial arts. His ability to combine his strength-based magic with his combat skills made him a formidable force, but he had yet to achieve the higher circles like his older siblings.
Then there was Larek Silvershade, Lazros's 18-year-old brother. He was a 3rd-circle mage, but his true brilliance lay in alchemy. A 3rd-circle alchemist, Larek was already considered a genius for his age. Despite being young, his alchemical concoctions were in high demand, and he had the potential to rival even the kingdom's greatest alchemists—those who had reached the 7th circle.
And then there was Lazros. The 16-year-old who had failed to show any promise. His magic was weak, and no amount of practice had seemed to change that. Even his mana reserves barely matched the most basic mages in the kingdom, let alone those of his siblings. He had not yet unlocked his magical circle, a process that marked the true beginning of a mage's potential. As the youngest and only child of the family who had yet to open a circle, Lazros felt the sting of comparison more keenly than ever.
Despite his obvious lack of talent, Lazros still held onto the family's expectations, which weighed heavily on him every day. They wanted him to succeed, to prove himself, but all he had ever managed to do was disappoint them. His family was proud of their legacy, and they were all eager to see him carry it forward, but he couldn't seem to measure up.
Today, like every other day, Lazros found himself alone in the vast, cold halls of the mansion. His father, Lysander, was in a meeting with other nobles, as was customary for a Duke. His siblings, too, were busy with their respective duties—training, learning, honing their skills. The weight of his inadequacy felt even heavier in their absence.
As Lazros walked past the library, something caught his eye—a gleam of light from within. He stopped, turning to look inside. The library was a place his siblings often frequented, devouring ancient tomes and scrolls for knowledge and power. But Lazros had never felt welcome there. Still, the light that shone from within was different—intense, almost beckoning.
Curious, he approached the entrance and peered inside. The light came from the farthest corner of the room, a forgotten alcove. It was then that he saw it: a book, its cover glowing with an otherworldly radiance, its pages fluttering slightly as if alive.
He stepped inside, heart racing. It was as if the book recognized his presence, responding to his every movement. Something about it felt different, like it was meant for him, and him alone. As he reached for the book, it suddenly shot toward him, a flash of blinding light enveloping his body.
Before he could react, the light intensified, and a sudden force knocked him to the ground. His vision faded to black, and his body went limp.
When Lazros awoke, the world around him felt different. The familiar air of the library seemed heavier, charged with a strange energy. For the first time in his life, he could feel it—mana.
It wasn't just the vague sense of magical power he had always known to be there. This time, he could sense it, as if it was flowing through every part of him, filling his body with a newfound awareness. It surged within him, a presence that was both alien and familiar, a force that seemed to awaken something deep inside him.
Lazros sat up, trembling, as the realization dawned on him. Something had changed. He was no longer the same. He had become a 1st-circle mage.
Still, despite the surge of power coursing through his veins, he knew the truth. His family wouldn't see him any differently. They had already written him off as weak, a disappointment, a failure. Being a 1st-circle mage wouldn't be enough to change their minds. They had long given up on him.
The next few days passed in a blur for Lazros. He spent his time alone, lost in the newfound sensation of mana coursing through him. Each day, he experimented with his magic in the privacy of his chambers, marveling at the way it responded to his will. He had opened his magical circle, a feat that had seemed impossible just days before, and now he could feel the raw power that lay within him. Yet, despite his progress, the nagging feeling of inadequacy still lingered. It was a stark contrast to the ease with which his siblings had ascended through the circles of magic.
Lazros knew that opening his circle was just the beginning, and there was still much to learn. But what weighed heavily on his heart was not the path of magic itself—it was the fact that no one in his family would recognize his achievement. His father, Lysander, would likely dismiss it as a fluke. His siblings, all accomplished and powerful in their own right, would hardly spare him a second thought.
In the days that followed, Lazros began to seek solace in the one person who had always believed in him—his mother, Selena. She was a quiet presence in the mansion, often overshadowed by the grandeur of the legacy. A maid with unknown origins, Selena had been brought into the family by his father, Lysander, whose love for her had never been accepted by the rest of the household. Her beauty had captivated the Duke, and in turn, she had become an outcast, constantly belittled by the legal wife and the rest of the household. Yet despite the years of mistreatment, Selena had always held a place in her heart for Lazros, offering him comfort when the rest of the family turned away.
He found her in the garden one afternoon, sitting beneath the shade of a large willow tree, her eyes closed in quiet reflection. She looked up as Lazros approached, offering him a gentle smile that made his heart ache with the weight of his unspoken feelings.
"Mother," he said softly, sitting beside her. "I have something to tell you."
Selena raised an eyebrow, her expression both curious and patient. "What is it, my son?"
Lazros hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin. Then, with a deep breath, he spoke the words that had been burning inside him. "I... I've become a 1st-circle mage."
Selena's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and pride crossing her face. But instead of overwhelming joy, her gaze softened with understanding.
"I knew you had it in you," she said, her voice warm and comforting. "You've always been capable of more than you think, Lazros."
"But they won't see it," Lazros replied bitterly, his gaze falling to the ground. "My father, my siblings—they won't care. They already think I'm a failure. This won't change anything."
Selena placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch a soothing balm to the storm of emotions within him. "Your worth is not determined by their expectations, Lazros. You don't need their approval to know that you've accomplished something incredible. You've opened your circle, and that is a victory. You've proven that you are capable of great things. The rest of the world will see it eventually."
Lazros looked up at his mother, her words a bittersweet comfort. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe that he could overcome the weight of his family's legacy and stand on his own, but doubt still gnawed at him. The were a family built on power and prestige, and Lazros had always been the weakest link in that chain.
"I don't know if I can live up to their expectations, Mother," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can ever be what they want me to be."
Selena's eyes softened with sympathy, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "You don't have to be anything other than yourself, Lazros. And if you ever feel like you can't go on, I'll be here. You are not alone in this."
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lazros allowed himself to lean into his mother's embrace, letting the comfort of her words and presence wash over him. In that moment, he realized that no matter what happened, he had at least one person in his corner who truly believed in him.
But as much as he longed for his family's approval, Lazros knew that he could not wait for them to see his worth. He had to forge his own path, to prove not just to them, but to himself, that he was capable of more than they ever believed. The journey ahead would be difficult, but Lazros was no longer the boy who had failed to open his circle. He was a 1st-circle mage, and that was just the beginning.
With newfound resolve, Lazros stood up, looking out over the garden, his heart brimming with a sense of determination. The legacy of the family was not just about power and prestige—it was about the strength to rise above expectations, to carve one's own place in the world, no matter how long it took. And Lazros was ready to take that first step.