The grand dining hall of the mansion was bathed in the warm, golden glow of candlelight. The table, as always, was set with the finest silverware, polished to perfection. Plates of the most exquisite dishes filled the long surface, the aroma rich and tantalizing. Yet, despite the opulence of the scene, a sense of unease hung in the air, felt by none more deeply than Lazros.
Tonight, the Duke had called for a family gathering—an event that had become rare in recent years. The Duke, Lysander was a man of powerful presence, both physically and magically. His reputation as an 8th-circle mage had earned him the utmost respect and fear, even among the kingdom's nobility. His decisions were final, and his word was law in the household.
As the family settled around the table, the usual chatter and laughter of the siblings filled the space. Lynar, Lunara, Lunessa, Lurian, and Larek—all of them were accomplished, powerful, and had long since surpassed the expectations of their father. Each one had a different talent, a different mastery of magic. They were the pride of the family, the future of the legacy.
But Lazros? He sat quietly at the end of the table, his gaze lowered. His posture was stiff, his hands clasped in his lap, as if trying to shrink into himself. Though the others exchanged pleasantries and joked with one another, Lazros felt as though he didn't belong. He was the "weak" son, the one who had failed to live up to his family's expectations. The one who still hadn't unlocked his magical circle.
The Duke, however, appeared unfazed by the silence. His sharp eyes scanned the room, his face unreadable as always. He raised a glass of wine, the ruby liquid gleaming in the candlelight.
"Family," he began, his voice deep and commanding. "Tonight, I have an important announcement."
The room fell silent immediately. Even Lazros, who had been avoiding eye contact with his father, looked up. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him.
"As you all know," the Duke continued, his gaze shifting to each of his children, "we have always strived to uphold the legacy. Our family has been at the forefront of magic and power for generations, and each of you has proven yourselves worthy of the name."
Lazros winced, knowing what was coming. His siblings had indeed proven themselves worthy—Lynar with his mastery of the 6th circle, Lunara with her control over ice, Lunessa with her healing powers, Lurian with his magic martial arts, and Larek with his alchemical genius. They were everything that the Duke had hoped for in his children. But Lazros?
"But," the Duke's voice grew sharper, as if emphasizing his words, "there is one among us who has not yet lived up to expectations. And that, I'm afraid, cannot be allowed to continue."
Lazros's heart sank. He could feel the eyes of his family on him, their gazes heavy with judgment. His father's disappointment weighed more heavily on him than anything else.
The Duke took a moment, allowing the tension in the room to settle before speaking again.
"It is time for the youngest to prove his worth. Lazros," he addressed him directly, his voice colder now, "I have made a decision. You will go to the Royal Magic Academy."
The words struck like a bolt of lightning. Lazros's breath caught in his throat as he looked up, trying to read his father's expression. He had heard of the Royal Magic Academy—an institution known for shaping the most powerful mages in the kingdom. It was a place where only the best could survive, where students were pushed to their limits and beyond.
At first, Lazros thought he had misheard. Me? Go to the Royal Magic Academy?
The shock was so intense that he could hardly process the words. The Duke's decision was not just surprising; it was unprecedented. The Royal Magic Academy was for those who had shown promise, who had demonstrated potential. Lazros, in his mind, had shown neither. His failure to open his magical circle, to prove himself in the eyes of his family, made him an unlikely candidate.
But his father's next words confirmed it.
"You will go," the Duke repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It is time for you to stop hiding behind your failures and become the mage you were born to be."
The family was silent. Lazros could feel the weight of their gazes, each of them processing the news in their own way. Some seemed indifferent, as if the Duke's word was final and unquestionable. Others, like Lunara and Lunessa, appeared to share a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Only Lynar, with his battle-hardened gaze, seemed unfazed, as if this was just another trial Lazros would have to face.
Lazros swallowed, his mouth dry. His father had never shown any faith in him before—why now?
"Perhaps this will be the push he needs," Lysander added, almost as though speaking to himself. "If Lazros is to be part of this family's legacy, he must prove it. No longer will we let him linger in the shadows."
Lazros's chest tightened. He didn't know what to feel—excitement? Fear? There was no question that the Royal Magic Academy would be a crucible unlike any other. If he failed there, it would not only be a personal failure; it would be the end of any hope he had of gaining his family's respect. But if he succeeded… the possibilities were endless. He could finally show them what he was capable of.
"Pack your things, Lazros," the Duke commanded, his tone brokering no argument. "The academy begins in two weeks. I expect you to return with results. Do not waste this opportunity."
With that, the conversation turned to other matters, but Lazros's mind remained locked on the words his father had spoken. He had been given a chance. But was he ready to embrace it? Would he finally step into the light, or would he continue to be the useless son of the Duke?
The answer lay ahead, within the walls of the Royal Magic Academy.
As the days passed and the reality of the Royal Magic Academy set in, Lazros found himself torn between uncertainty and determination. The announcement had shaken him to his core, and the weight of his father's expectations felt like an unshakable mountain pressing down on him.
But even with his newfound power and the potential within him, he couldn't ignore the looming figure of his father—the Duke, an 8th-circle mage. The mere thought of facing someone so powerful made Lazros's chest tighten with a mix of awe and fear. No matter how much progress he had made in the past two months, no matter how much the book inside him had granted him knowledge and strength, the presence of his father—Lysander Silvershade —was overwhelming.
His father's magical aura was like a storm, an unyielding force that dwarfed anything Lazros had ever encountered. Even now, as a 3rd-circle mage, Lazros couldn't help but feel like a child standing before a god. There was an undeniable difference between the two of them, a vast gap that could never be closed in mere months or even years. The Duke had reached the 8th circle—the pinnacle of magic. Lazros was still a fledgling compared to his father.
The idea of testing his abilities against his father's overwhelming power sent a chill down his spine. And it wasn't just Lysander's presence that loomed large over Lazros. It was also the legacy of his siblings. Each one of them had already proved themselves at the Royal Magic Academy—Lynar, Lunara, Lunessa, Lurian, and Larek. They were all top-tier students, the best of their year, their names known throughout the kingdom as prodigies.
Lynar, with his mastery of the sword and magic, had risen to become one of the youngest knights to graduate at the top of his class. Lunara, a prodigy in elemental magic, had captivated the Academy with her control over ice, ranking first in her class. Lunessa, the most powerful healing mage of her generation, had garnered respect from even the most skeptical professors, leaving an indelible mark as the Academy's most exceptional healer. Lurian's talent for magic martial arts had earned him the reputation of a warrior unmatched, and Larek, despite his youth, had graduated top in alchemy—an achievement that made him the talk of both the Academy and the kingdom.
And then there was Lazros—the youngest, the one who had been cast aside by his own family for so long. He had spent years in their shadow, watching as each sibling excelled while he remained stagnant. But now, he had been thrust into the spotlight. The Royal Magic Academy was his only chance to prove that he, too, could carry the Silvershade legacy forward.
Yet, even with his newfound strength and the mysterious power granted to him by the book, the thought of standing side-by-side with his siblings, let alone surpassing them, seemed impossible. They had mastered magic long before Lazros had even discovered the true depths of his power. Their positions at the Academy were guaranteed, while his was uncertain. Could he ever rise to their level?
The pressure mounted daily as the day of his departure for the Academy neared. Lazros knew this would be his test—the test not only of his magical prowess but also of his ability to stand against the expectations of his family, particularly his father.
As he stood on the balcony one evening, gazing out at the vast landscape of Zephyria, the familiar feeling of inadequacy crept up on him once again. His father's shadow seemed to loom over everything, and even the magical energy that flowed through him felt small in comparison.
Would he ever be able to face his father without fear? Could he truly surpass the impossible expectations placed upon him?
The day of his departure for the Royal Magic Academy arrived swiftly, and Lazros found himself on the carriage with his family, heading toward the distant gates of the Academy. His siblings, as always, were full of confidence, discussing their achievements with ease. Yet, Lazros felt the sting of their words, knowing they would be watching him closely.
When they finally reached the Academy, Lazros could see the awe in the eyes of the other students and professors. The Royal Magic Academy was a place of unmatched prestige, where only the best of the best were allowed entry. The sprawling campus, with its towering spires and arcane symbols etched into every surface, was the breeding ground for the kingdom's future mages.
But amidst all of this, Lazros felt a sense of isolation. He was surrounded by prodigies, people who had been training their entire lives to master magic. He, on the other hand, was still new to this world, still learning the very basics that his siblings had already perfected.
The pressure to succeed weighed heavily on him. He would be expected to live up to the legacy of his family—to prove himself worthy of the Silvershade name. The weight of his ancestors' expectations seemed to follow him wherever he went, and Lazros knew that failing here would mean the end of any hope of acceptance.
As the gates of the Academy closed behind him, Lazros felt a chill run down his spine. He was no longer just the youngest son of the Duke—he was now a student at the Royal Magic Academy, a place where only the best could thrive. The challenge ahead of him was immense, and with every step he took, he felt the immense presence of his father looming large over him, even from afar.
The journey would be long. The road to becoming a true Silvershade mage had just begun. But Lazros was determined to rise to the occasion. Even if he had to face his father's overwhelming power, even if he had to stand alongside his siblings and prove himself worthy, he would not falter.
For Lazros Silvershade , the time for self-doubt was over. The time to prove his worth had begun.
The Royal Magic Academy, known as Celestia, stood as a beacon of knowledge and power. Established centuries ago, it was more than just an institution—it was a symbol of magical excellence. For hundreds of years, Celestia had been the cradle of legendary mages, many of whom had shaped the very history of Zephyria and beyond. The academy's influence extended far beyond the kingdom's borders; it was a place where the most elite talents from neighboring realms came to study and hone their craft.
The sprawling campus of Celestia was a masterpiece of magical engineering. Towering spires touched the heavens, their tips glowing faintly with enchanted runes. Massive halls lined with intricate carvings and ancient sigils served as classrooms and training grounds. The air itself seemed to hum with latent magical energy, a constant reminder of the academy's long-standing legacy.
Every corner of Celestia whispered stories of past graduates who had risen to greatness. Archmages, court sorcerers, legendary alchemists, and even warrior-mages who had turned the tide of wars had all walked these hallowed grounds. To study here was to follow in the footsteps of giants, to strive for excellence in a place where mediocrity had no room.
For Lazros, Celestia was both a promise and a challenge. It was the stage upon which he would forge his destiny, a place where he would either prove his worth or fade into obscurity. The academy had seen countless prodigies rise to prominence, and now it was his turn to write his chapter in its storied history.
The weight of its reputation bore heavily on his shoulders. Not only would he have to contend with the expectations of his family, but he would also need to stand among the best of the best—the elite from Zephyria and other kingdoms who had come to Celestia to make their mark. It was a daunting prospect, but Lazros was determined. Hidden beneath his quiet exterior was a resolve as unyielding as the stone walls of the academy itself.
As the gates of Celestia swung open and the grandeur of the academy stretched out before him, Lazros took a deep breath. This was the beginning of his journey, the first step toward proving that he was more than just the weakest Silvershade . With the power of the ancient book within him, a growing mastery of magic, and the unyielding desire to rise above the shadow of his family, Lazros vowed to etch his name into the annals of Celestia's history.
The academy had stood for centuries as the pinnacle of magical education. Now, it was his turn to stand among its ranks and face the trials ahead.