《The Silent Flame》


 Chapter 1

    The air rippled as the first child entered the world. Silence followed. No cry came, only a shallow, uneven breath that seemed to teeter on the edge of stillness. His body, small and fragile, shivered weakly in the midwife¡¯s hands. Yet, his eyes¡ªopen and unblinking¡ªheld a light far too steady for a newborn. I am here, the thought flickered in his mind, clear, bright, undeniable. He couldn¡¯t yet grasp what here meant, but he knew he existed, and his fragile form wasn¡¯t a match for the awareness burning inside him.


    Moments later, a wail cut through the air, strong and piercing. The second child, his brother, burst into the world with a force that demanded attention. His fists flailed, his cries filled the room, and his small but sturdy body writhed with energy. The midwife almost sighed in relief as she handed the second boy to the father, whose face lit with pride.


    ¡°This one is strong,¡± the man said, his voice warm and filled with approval. He cradled the child with practiced hands, marveling at the boy¡¯s vigor.


    But the midwife hesitated with the firstborn. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ quiet,¡± she said carefully, placing the frail boy into his mother¡¯s trembling arms. ¡°And very small.¡±


    The mother¡¯s smile faltered as she looked at her silent son. Her hands trembled as she held him closer, her thumb brushing over his pale cheek. ¡°Why isn¡¯t he crying?¡± she whispered, her voice unsteady. Her eyes searched the midwife¡¯s face for answers, but none came.


    ¡°He¡¯s breathing,¡± the midwife replied, though her tone lacked conviction. ¡°But¡­ weakly.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The father glanced briefly at the firstborn but returned his attention to the second boy, who wriggled in his arms, a picture of life and strength. ¡°This one¡¯s got a fire in him,¡± he said, his chest swelling with pride. ¡°Look at how he moves already!¡±


    But the mother wasn¡¯t listening. Her focus stayed on the silent child, whose tiny chest rose and fell so faintly it was as though the act of living was a battle. ¡°He¡¯s too weak,¡± she murmured, fear creeping into her voice. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t he cry? Why¡ª¡± Her words broke, and she hugged him closer, as though her warmth alone might will him to strength.


    The little girl, Leyna, watched from her mother¡¯s side, her golden hair falling into her wide eyes. She didn¡¯t fully understand the worry, but it unsettled her. She reached out to touch the quiet baby¡¯s hand, but her mother gently pulled him back, her protective instinct sharp.


    The quiet boy didn¡¯t cry, didn¡¯t flinch, but his eyes moved with a clarity that was unnerving. He studied his mother¡¯s face, her trembling lips, the tears pooling in her eyes. He saw the father¡¯s broad smile, his gaze fixed on the crying child. He even noted the girl¡¯s hesitant curiosity. None of it made sense, but the connections¡ªthe emotions¡ªwere unmistakable. He didn¡¯t have words for these feelings yet, but he understood them.


    They are mine, he thought, though he didn¡¯t know the word family. His intellect surged, far outpacing the feeble strength of his body. And I am theirs.


    The father chuckled, still enthralled by the second boy. ¡°This one will be a fighter, just like his old man,¡± he said, bouncing the crying child slightly. ¡°He¡¯s got the strength for it.¡±


    ¡°And the other?¡± the mother whispered, her voice barely audible.


    The father¡¯s face softened briefly, but his gaze didn¡¯t linger. ¡°He¡¯ll grow,¡± he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned back to the stronger boy, a smile spreading across his face. ¡°He just needs time.¡±


    The mother¡¯s grip on the silent child tightened. She wasn¡¯t convinced.


    The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. Outside, the wind howled faintly, carrying the weight of unspoken fears. The mother looked down at her quiet son, whose unblinking eyes met hers with a sharpness that made her heart ache.


    Why doesn¡¯t he cry?


    End of chapter 1

 Chapter 2 (naming)

    As the day passed, the house remained quiet, the crackling of the hearth the only sound breaking the stillness. Warmth filled the room, a stark contrast to the cold, anxious knot in Mary¡¯s chest(the mother). The firstborn lay in her arms, his body barely moving, his large, unblinking eyes observing the world with an unsettling stillness.


    Mary had spent most of the night watching him breathe--if you could even call it that. Each shallow rise and fall of his chest felt like a struggle, a battle she couldn¡¯t fight for him. He was so fragile, so delicate. Her arms trembled as she held him closer, her fear gnawing at her: What if he can¡¯t make it? What if he¡¯s too weak to survive?


    Her gaze wandered to John(the father), sitting nearby with the secondborn nestled in his arms. The secondborn, healthy and robust, already made his presence known with cries that echoed through the room. His tiny fists flailed, his energy boundless. John¡¯s pride was unmistakable, his smile warm as he gently bounced the boy in his arms.


    ¡°Mary,¡± John said softly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. ¡°What do you think about naming them?¡±


    She looked up at him, startled, her hands instinctively tightening around the firstborn. ¡°Naming them?¡± she echoed, her voice strained. ¡°We¡­ we should. But¡­¡± She hesitated, her eyes dropping back to the tiny face in her arms. ¡°What if he¡­ What if he doesn¡¯t survive?¡±


    John knelt beside her, his expression gentle but firm. ¡°Mary,¡± he said, taking her hand, ¡°he¡¯ll be fine. Just give him time.¡± His gaze shifted to the secondborn, wriggling energetically. ¡°We¡¯ve already got one who¡¯s full of life. The other¡­ he just needs a little more time.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Her throat tightened. She wanted to believe him, but the fear was too heavy, too real. She looked back down at the firstborn, brushing a finger lightly over his fragile hand. He didn¡¯t cry, didn¡¯t move much at all. He only watched, his gaze quiet and searching.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m ready to name him,¡± she murmured. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    John sighed softly, his hand resting on her shoulder. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be rushed, but naming them will give us something to hold onto. Something that¡¯s theirs. Names make things real, Mary.¡±


    As if sensing the tension, Leyna (the sister) skipped into the room, her wide eyes alight with excitement. ¡°Can I name one?¡± she asked, her voice eager.


    John chuckled, beckoning her closer. ¡°Of course, little one. Do you have any names in mind?¡±


    Leyna tilted her head, thinking hard. ¡°Maybe¡­ Kai!¡± she announced, her voice ringing with pride. ¡°It sounds nice, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    Mary managed a weak smile. ¡°It¡¯s a lovely name,¡± she said, though her heart wasn¡¯t in it.


    John, however, seemed ready to settle the matter. Looking down at the secondborn, his smile grew. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± he said, his voice calm but firm. ¡°Theo. It¡¯s strong. Steady. A name that will suit him well.¡±


    Mary glanced at the secondborn. Theo. The name did feel fitting, she had to admit. She nodded slowly, though her eyes drifted back to the firstborn.


    ¡°What about him?¡± John asked gently.


    She hesitated, her fingers tracing the curve of the firstborn¡¯s tiny hand. His silence, his stillness--it frightened her, but there was something else, too. Something quiet but persistent, like a flicker of light in the dark.


    ¡°I think¡­ I¡¯ll name him Arlen,¡± she whispered.


    John raised an eyebrow. ¡°Arlen?¡±


    Mary nodded, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. ¡°It means ¡®a silent flame.¡¯ Something fragile, but constant. A light that doesn¡¯t falter, even when it¡¯s small.¡±


    John looked at the firstborn, his pride in Theo momentarily giving way to a softer emotion. For a long moment, he studied the boy¡¯s face, and then he murmured, ¡°Arlen. It¡¯s fitting.¡±


    Mary¡¯s heart swelled with a fragile hope as she met John¡¯s gaze. Leyna, sensing the gravity of the moment, clapped her hands. ¡°So it¡¯s Theo and Arlen!¡± she declared.


    Mary smiled, brushing a kiss against Arlen¡¯s soft hair. She held him close, the warmth of the fire seeping into her as the weight of the names settled over them. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of reassurance.


    Theo. Arlen. The names felt like promises--a future, fragile and uncertain, but full of possibility.

 Chapter 3 (emptiness)

    Six years had passed since Arlen and Theo¡¯s naming, and with each day, the world around them seemed to drift further from Arlen¡¯s reach. He sat in the same corner of the room, calm and unbothered, as life swirled around him. The laughter of Theo, the bustling excitement of his parents preparing for their sixth birthday¡ªit all felt like a distant echo, muffled by an invisible barrier.


    Arlen watched it all with detached quietness, as though observing a play from behind a curtain. He wasn¡¯t part of the scene, and deep down, he knew he never would be. It wasn¡¯t sadness or envy, just an unshakable certainty that he didn¡¯t belong. Yet, even now, he waited for something he couldn¡¯t name, as if one day the curtain might rise for him.


    Outside, Theo raced across the yard, his smaller frame moving with a strength and grace that made every leap and tumble seem destined for greatness. John couldn¡¯t stop talking about it.


    ¡°Look at him, Mary.¡± John¡¯s voice brimmed with pride as he pointed to Theo through the window. ¡°He¡¯s a born genius. You¡¯ll see¡ªthis evaluation will just confirm it.¡± He leaned against the frame, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ¡°He¡¯s got that spark. You can¡¯t teach that, Mary. You¡¯re born with it.¡±


    Mary smiled faintly but didn¡¯t look at Theo. Her gaze flickered to Arlen, still and silent in his corner. ¡°They both have their own spark, John. The evaluation will show us.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Arlen barely heard them. He had grown used to their words, their endless praise of Theo. It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t care¡ªhe loved Theo, just as he loved Lena. But the evaluation wasn¡¯t just for Theo. It was for him too.


    And Arlen already knew what it would show.


    The evaluation would come, and it would prove what he had always known: there was nothing extraordinary about him. Not because he was lazy or weak, but because he simply wasn¡¯t like them. Theo, Lena, his parents¡ªthey all had something inside them, some essence that tied them to the world. But Arlen? He was something else entirely. He didn¡¯t belong in their world, though he couldn¡¯t explain why.


    When Lena had her evaluation, it had been a momentous event. At just twelve years old, she had shown a brilliance that left everyone in awe. Her talent was undeniable, and no one was surprised when she was marked for the academy, where she would attend in two years.


    Lena was a prodigy, a once-in-a-lifetime talent, destined for greatness. And though Arlen loved her, he couldn¡¯t help but feel the emptiness of it all. Her brilliance wasn¡¯t his to share; it was just another reminder of everything he wasn¡¯t.


    The evaluation in a few days wasn¡¯t for children like Lena, who had already proven where they belonged. It was for children like Theo¡ªand Arlen. Children who needed to be told where their paths lay, who needed the world to define their worth. But Arlen didn¡¯t need the evaluation to tell him his place. He had known it from the start.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Arlen.¡± Mary¡¯s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she looked at him. ¡°The evaluation will tell us where you shine, just like it will for Theo.¡±


    Arlen said nothing, his calmness unbroken. He didn¡¯t need to argue; he didn¡¯t need to explain. What could he say? That the world they lived in wasn¡¯t meant for him? That he already knew how this story would end?


    Theo¡¯s laughter carried through the air, bright and boundless, a sound full of promise. But to Arlen, it felt distant, like a melody meant for someone else. He closed his eyes for a moment, retreating into the stillness of his own thoughts.


    There, in the quiet, he waited. For what, he didn¡¯t know. Perhaps for nothing at all.

 Chapter 4 (truth of the world)

    The world was a swirl of glowing light¡ªa truth invisible to everyone but Arlen. To him, magic wasn¡¯t some grand mystery bestowed by divine will; it was as simple and inevitable as sunlight hitting the earth. His eyes, sharper than anyone could fathom, saw the truth. Every living thing around him pulsed with a faint glow, a steady rhythm of life intertwined with something more¡ªsomething everyone called "magic."


    This force wasn¡¯t magic, not truly. It wasn¡¯t born from blessings or ancient rituals, as the stories claimed. It was the essence of the planet itself¡ªa silent gift from its minerals and atmosphere, absorbed by the bodies of those who had lived here for generations. Over time, their bodies adapted, evolving in ways their ancestors could never have imagined. They harnessed this force, shaped it, and called it magic. But Arlen saw through the myth.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    He saw the glow in his family¡ªhis mother, his sister, his brother¡ªeven the tiniest bird in the trees. Yet when he turned his gaze inward, there was only emptiness. No light, no connection¡ªjust a quiet void that whispered he didn¡¯t belong.


    That hollow space inside him was both a curse and a gift. He could see the truth, but he could never be part of it.


    As the world around him reveled in their magic, Arlen carried the quiet burden of knowing it wasn¡¯t as special as they believed. What they cherished as extraordinary was simply nature¡¯s design¡ªbeautiful, yet indifferent to him.

 Chapter 5 (travel)

    The village buzzed with early morning activity, wagons creaking under loaded crates while children darted around their parents, spilling excitement into the air. Arlen lingered at the edge of his family, silent as always, his satchel slung over one shoulder.


    Theo tugged at Mary¡¯s sleeve, his energy already in full swing. ¡°Mama, can I ride with the adventurers? Please?¡±


    Mary smiled, brushing his hair back. ¡°If they let you, darling.¡±


    Theo beamed and sprinted toward a group of armed men by the lead wagon. One of them, a grizzled adventurer named Ardan, ruffled Theo¡¯s hair and lifted him onto the wagon.


    ¡°You¡¯re a lively one, aren¡¯t you?¡± Ardan said, laughing.


    Arlen stood back, his gaze flicking to Theo and then back to the ground. Lively? It¡¯s a euphemism for loud and restless. People seem to admire what disrupts the quiet.


    Mrs. Elba approached him, her arms open wide. ¡°Oh, Arlen, look at you! Still the quiet one, aren¡¯t you? Come here, give me a hug.¡±


    Arlen hesitated before letting her awkwardly pat his back. She pulled away, her face warm and full of fondness. ¡°Your brother is so much like your father, isn¡¯t he? And you, well... you¡¯re your own kind of special.¡±Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Arlen said, his voice barely audible.


    Mrs. Elba chuckled, taking his silence as shyness, and moved on. He watched her join the others, her laughter blending into the hum of conversation. ¡®Special¡¯ is a catchall term. It fills silence when people can¡¯t decide what they mean or when words fail to justify their sentiment.


    As the group began their journey, Theo darted from wagon to wagon, chatting with everyone he met. ¡°Did you know we¡¯re going to the biggest city ever? With towers that touch the sky!¡±


    One of the villagers smiled indulgently. ¡°Is that so? Maybe you¡¯ll be as tall as those towers one day!¡±


    Theo laughed, twirling in excitement, while Arlen walked quietly beside his mother. He looked at the villager who¡¯d spoken, his thoughts circling. ¡®Towers that touch the sky¡¯? Impossible. Structures are limited by material strength and gravity. But Theo¡¯s enjoying the idea. They¡¯re indulging him because it makes him happy.


    Mary glanced at Arlen, her eyes soft with something he couldn¡¯t quite define--worry, perhaps, or attachment. He caught her gaze briefly before looking away. Whatever it was, I didn¡¯t share it.


    By the time the group stopped to camp for the evening, the fire¡¯s warmth pulled everyone into a circle. Theo sat at the center, retelling his grandest imaginary adventure yet, complete with dragons and magical swords.


    Arlen sat apart, picking at the edge of a bread roll, his focus on the flames. One of the younger adventurers, Alric, wandered over and handed him a cup of water. ¡°You¡¯re a quiet kid, huh?¡±


    Arlen nodded, accepting the cup. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°Stories aren¡¯t your thing, are they?¡± Alric said, sitting down nearby.


    Arlen glanced at the fire, then at Alric, and said nothing. Why should they be? They¡¯re distortions of reality, crafted for entertainment. I see no point in pretending to care.


    Alric took his silence as thoughtfulness and patted his knee before standing up. ¡°Well, if you ever want to join in, you¡¯re welcome.¡±


    Arlen sipped the water, his gaze returning to the fire. He doesn¡¯t mean that. It¡¯s just a courtesy adults offer when they don¡¯t expect you to take it. The flames flickered, casting long shadows around the circle, their warmth drawing everyone closer. He watched Theo animatedly weave his tales of dragons and towers, holding everyone¡¯s attention with ease.


    Warmth--literal and figurative. Something they shared with each other but not with me. Yet, I didn¡¯t feel its absence. I didn¡¯t need it.

 Chapter 6:( the disaster)

    They carried an untainted happiness, oblivious to the shadow closing in. Fate¡¯s cruel indifference had already set the trap.


    Far from the cheerful caravan, hidden deep within the woods, a group of bandits gathered in their makeshift hideout. Flickering firelight painted jagged shadows across the cracked stone walls as their low, sharp voices discussed the plan.


    ¡°They¡¯ll be at the pass by tomorrow.¡± The informant leaned forward, hands spread on the rough wooden table. His voice was quiet, nearly drowned out by the scrape of a whetstone on steel. ¡°Small group--a family, two carts, and a couple of second-rate adventurers. Likely hired hands.¡±


    The leader, a tall, lean man with a scar slicing across his left cheek, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Adventurers? Hired hands, you say. What kind?¡±


    He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the table. The fire¡¯s glow danced in his cold, calculating eyes.


    ¡°Listen up,¡± he said, his voice sharp enough to silence the room. ¡°We¡¯re splitting into two groups. Group A will take the front, head-on. Loud and messy. Keep the caravan¡¯s eyes on them. Make sure those so-called adventurers think they¡¯re the real threat.¡±


    A wiry man with a crooked grin nodded eagerly. ¡°You want us to draw them out, huh? Keep them busy while the rest move in?¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± The leader jabbed a finger on the map, his scarred cheek twitching as if savoring the thought of chaos. ¡°Group B will circle through the trees and hit the caravan¡¯s rear. They¡¯ll be too focused on the fight to notice. Group B¡¯s job is to clear out the carts--take anything of value. Food, coins, supplies. Leave nothing behind.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Bran, the burly man with the missing tooth, shifted uncomfortably. ¡°And what if those adventurers are tougher than they look? What if they¡¯ve got a trick or two up their sleeves?¡±


    The leader smirked, a flash of cruel amusement flickering across his face. ¡°That¡¯s why Group A needs to stay on them. If the adventurers put up a fight, you keep them occupied. Stall, distract, whatever it takes. Group B will already be gone by the time they realize what¡¯s happening.¡±


    A younger bandit, barely more than a boy, raised his hand hesitantly. ¡°What if the family fights back too? The parents or anyone else?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± the leader said, a cold edge in his voice. ¡°Families like this are soft. They¡¯ll panic, maybe run. And if they don¡¯t--¡± His smile didn¡¯t reach his eyes. ¡°It won¡¯t matter.¡±


    Another bandit, older and weathered, spoke up from the back. ¡°What about the timing? When do we strike?¡±


    ¡°Just before dawn,¡± the leader answered. ¡°The caravan will be groggy, half-awake, maybe setting up camp again. That¡¯s when we hit them. Group A will attack first, draw them out. Group B, you move in as soon as the chaos starts. No delays. Stick to the plan, and we¡¯ll be out of there before anyone knows what hit them.¡±


    The room filled with nods and murmurs of approval. The bandits began preparing, grabbing weapons, checking bows, and sharpening blades. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation.


    The informant lingered near the doorway, watching nervously. ¡°You really think this¡¯ll go smooth, boss?¡±


    The leader didn¡¯t look at him, his focus on the battered map spread across the table. ¡°It¡¯s not about smooth, kid. It¡¯s about quick. Stick with the plan, and you¡¯ll get your share.¡±


    The informant nodded but couldn¡¯t shake the unease gnawing at his stomach.


    Outside, the forest pressed closer, its shadows deepening as if nature itself recoiled from the coming storm.

 Chapter 7: (chaos)

    The caravan moved steadily through the forest trail, the sun filtering through the trees above in shifting patches of light. The woods were alive with the rustle of leaves and distant birdsong, a tranquil melody that matched the laughter of the travelers.


    Mary and Lena walked alongside the central carriage, their pace unhurried as they shared quiet words.


    ¡°Your brother has so much energy,¡± Mary said with a fond smile, her gaze fixed on Theo.


    ¡°He always does,¡± Lena replied, grinning. ¡°But look at Papa. He seems just as excited as Theo.¡±


    Up ahead, John carried Theo on his shoulders, the boy reaching out to grab at the branches overhead. John was laughing, pretending to duck under imaginary obstacles, his voice ringing warmly through the air. Theo¡¯s squeals of delight made the entire caravan seem lighter.


    ¡°I think Theo brings out his adventurous side,¡± Mary said softly.


    Lena giggled, watching as John spun Theo around and set him down on the edge of the carriage. Theo scrambled onto the back, his small hands gripping the wooden frame as he glanced over his shoulder to smile at his mother and sister.


    Behind them, Arlen sat in silence on the rear-most carriage, his expression distant. His eyes followed the shifting shadows between the trees, unblinking, as if seeing something no one else could.


    But then the air shifted.


    The lively forest seemed to hold its breath. Birds that had been singing moments ago went silent, and the rustling leaves stilled. It was subtle at first, but the unnatural quiet spread like a creeping shadow.


    The adventurer at the front frowned, raising a hand to signal the caravan to stop. ¡°Hold,¡± he called, his voice low but commanding. His sharp eyes scanned the trees, his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. ¡°Something¡¯s off.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    John immediately set Theo down, his demeanor shifting in an instant. The easy smile vanished from his face, replaced by steely focus. He crouched to meet Theo¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Go back to your mother. Stay with her,¡± he instructed, his tone firm.


    Theo nodded, sensing the gravity of the moment. His usual cheerfulness gave way to seriousness as he turned to run back toward Mary and Lena.


    But as he reached the gap between the carriages, his foot snagged on a loose strap. He fell hard, a startled cry escaping his lips.


    ¡°Theo!¡± Mary gasped, her heart leaping as she rushed toward him, Lena following close behind.


    Before they could reach him, chaos erupted.


    Bandits poured out of the trees ahead, their war cries shattering the forest¡¯s fragile calm. Horses reared, their panicked cries mingling with the clash of steel and shouted orders. Group A surged forward, their wild charge meant to overwhelm and distract.


    ¡°Stay down!¡± one of the adventurers shouted, drawing his sword as John grabbed a staff from the side of the carriage.


    Theo struggled to untangle his foot, his wide eyes darting between the bandits and his mother running toward him. Mary¡¯s breaths came in frantic gasps as she knelt to pull him free.


    But the panicked horses were beyond control. One bolted, its hooves thrashing wildly. Mary cried out as the animal struck her shoulder, the force sending her to the ground. Her head hit the hard earth with a sickening thud, and she went still.


    ¡°Mother!¡± Lena screamed, falling to her knees beside her.


    John turned at the sound of Lena¡¯s cry, his heart seizing as he saw Mary lying motionless. For a moment, he hesitated, torn between fighting off the attackers and rushing to his wife¡¯s side. His grip tightened on the staff as rage and fear warred within him.


    Meanwhile, Group B circled toward the rear, their goal the unguarded carriages. The guards and adventurers at the front were putting up more resistance than expected, and frustration was clear in the bandits¡¯ frantic shouts.


    ¡°Quick! Grab what you can and move!¡± their leader barked, his voice sharp with irritation.


    One of the bandits, scouring the last carriage for valuables, froze when he spotted Arlen. The boy sat quietly, his unflinching gaze fixed on the man. Something about the child¡¯s calmness unsettled him, but greed quickly overtook hesitation.


    ¡°The kid,¡± he muttered, a glint of opportunity flashing in his eyes. ¡°He¡¯ll fetch a good price.¡±


    Without a word, he climbed into the carriage and grabbed Arlen. The boy didn¡¯t struggle or cry out, his unnerving stillness making the bandit¡¯s heart pound faster. He hauled Arlen off and disappeared into the trees, unnoticed in the chaos.


    At the front, John knelt beside Mary, gently shaking her. ¡°Mary, wake up. Please,¡± he pleaded, his voice cracking. Theo and Lena clung to him, tears streaming down their faces as they huddled close to their unconscious mother.


    The bandits began to retreat, their spoils fewer than they had hoped. Their leader¡¯s frustrated orders rang out, urging his men to regroup.


    As the forest grew quiet again, the injured were tended to, and the caravan slowly gathered itself. John held Mary close, whispering her name as he tried to rouse her. Theo and Lena stayed by his side, their tearful eyes darting around the disheveled caravan.


    No one noticed the empty space at the rear.


    No one realized the firstborn was missing.


    Arlen was gone.

 Chapter 8: (a mother鈥檚 grief)

    The air was thick with the stench of smoke and fear. Somewhere in the distance, echoes of panicked cries lingered, but for Mary, the world had gone silent.


    She stirred, caught in a dream that felt more like a tethered memory. Arlen stood before her¡ªsmall, fragile, and bathed in a pale, fading light. His face was blurred, softened at the edges, as though the wind itself were erasing him.


    ¡°No¡­ Arlen!¡± she whispered, her voice trembling. She reached out, her arms shaking, desperate to grab hold of him. But the harder she tried, the further he drifted, like a shadow slipping beyond the horizon.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go! Please, don¡¯t go!¡± Tears streamed down her face as she cried out. But Arlen didn¡¯t turn back. His image dissolved into darkness, leaving her alone in an endless void.


    A gasp tore through her chest as she woke.


    ¡°Arlen!¡± she cried, bolting upright, her face damp with tears.


    The world around her spun as her eyes adjusted to the chaos. John knelt beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders. Lena hovered nearby, pale with worry, clutching Theo, who looked close to tears.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± John said, his voice strained. ¡°Mary, stay still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where is he?¡± she cut him off, her voice sharp and unsteady. ¡°Where is Arlen?¡±


    John blinked, his lips parting to answer, but no words came. His eyes darted toward the broken carriage behind them. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s over¡ª¡± His voice faltered as realization struck.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Arlen wasn¡¯t there.


    Mary¡¯s heart dropped, her breath catching in her throat. ¡°No¡­¡± she whispered, her voice cracking. ¡°No, no, no!¡±


    Her hands clutched John¡¯s tunic, shaking him as though she could pull the truth out of him. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you protect him? Why didn¡¯t you protect my son?¡±


    Her cries erupted into raw, anguished sobs as she struck at John¡¯s chest with trembling fists. He didn¡¯t stop her, his face pale and etched with guilt.


    Lena, her own tears flowing, hugged Theo tightly. ¡°They¡¯ll find him¡­ they¡¯ll find him,¡± she whispered, her voice thin, as though saying the words would make them true.


    Mary¡¯s legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the dusty ground. Her body trembled violently as she clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare. ¡°Bring him back¡­¡± she murmured, her voice cracking. ¡°Please, bring him back¡­¡±


    John tried to steady her, his hands reaching for hers, but she shoved him away, her grief consuming her.


    ¡°I can¡¯t lose him,¡± Mary whispered, her voice fragile. ¡°I can¡¯t lose my son¡­¡±


    The words slipped from her lips like a confession, hollow and unbidden. Every breath felt like a weight pressing against her chest. The world around her blurred¡ªchaos and noise fading into a silence so deep it felt alive.


    John¡¯s voice broke through the fog, soft and pleading. ¡°Mary, we¡¯ll find him. We¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Her scream cut through the air. She shot up, ignoring the dizziness that followed, her hands reaching out as if she could physically pull Arlen from the shadows. ¡°I won¡¯t lose him! I won¡¯t let him be gone!¡± Her voice broke under the weight of her sobs.


    Lena, standing beside them, held Theo tighter. His wide, young eyes glistened with unshed tears, his small face frozen in fear. ¡°We¡¯re looking, Mama,¡± Lena said, her voice quivering. ¡°We¡¯ll find him. We will. We have to. Please¡­¡±


    But Mary didn¡¯t hear her. She was too far gone, her mind lost in the swirling storm of her own emotions.


    John knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders again, his hands shaking. ¡°Mary, look at me.¡± His voice was firm, desperate. ¡°We¡¯ll find him. But I need you to hold on. I need you to stay with me.¡±


    Her gaze flickered to him, unfocused and distant. ¡°Why wasn¡¯t I there?¡± she rasped. ¡°Why wasn¡¯t I there for him? I should¡¯ve protected him¡­¡± Her voice cracked as she buried her face in her hands.


    John¡¯s grip tightened, his own tears falling freely now. ¡°I didn¡¯t know,¡± he said hoarsely, his words more to himself than to her. ¡°I didn¡¯t know they¡¯d come for him. I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± His voice broke, the guilt choking him.


    Mary rocked back and forth, her fingers clutching the fabric of her gown. ¡°Arlen¡­ Arlen¡­¡± she whispered, the name a chant, a desperate plea to the heavens.


    Theo¡¯s soft sobs broke the fragile silence. Lena hugged him closer, her own tears falling as she whispered, ¡°We can¡¯t give up. We can¡¯t.¡±


    John reached for Mary¡¯s hand, his touch trembling but firm. ¡°We¡¯ll find him, Mary,¡± he said, his voice low but steady. ¡°We¡¯ll bring him back.¡±


    But Mary didn¡¯t respond. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, where Arlen¡¯s laughter should have been. And in the silence that followed, the weight of her grief bore down on them all.

 Chapter 9 (decision)

    The camp was shrouded in an oppressive silence. The weak crackle of the fire was the only sound, its feeble light casting long, jagged shadows over the grim faces of the bandits. The usual camaraderie¡ªthe rough laughter, the crude jokes¡ªwas gone. They had failed.


    The caravan had slipped through their fingers, leaving them empty-handed and wounded. Worse still, two of their own lay dead¡ªa price paid in blood during a fight with adventurers guarding the carriages.


    The leader paced back and forth near the fire, his boots crunching against dry leaves. His scarred face was tight with barely contained rage, his fists clenching and unclenching. The weight of failure hung over the group like a storm cloud, and his simmering anger only made the air heavier.


    He stopped suddenly, his cold eyes sweeping over his crew. "This is a joke," he muttered, his voice low and venomous. "Two dead. And this..." He gestured at the meager pile of goods they¡¯d scavenged. "This is all we have to show for it?"


    No one answered. No one dared. The bandits avoided his gaze, shifting uneasily.


    The leader¡¯s voice rose, sharp and cutting. "Who the hell brought this kid?"


    All eyes turned to the boy sitting silently at the edge of the camp, his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked small, even under the flickering firelight.


    A younger bandit stiffened, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. "W-we grabbed him from the caravan, boss," he stammered, trying to explain. "Thought we could... sell him."


    The leader¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously. In a flash, he crossed the distance between them and yanked the bandit up by the collar. "Sell him?" he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Did I say we¡¯re kidnappers now? Did I say we¡¯re slavers?"Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    He shoved the young man back, who stumbled and nearly fell. The rest of the group remained frozen, the gravity of their mistake sinking in.


    "Do you idiots realize what you¡¯ve done?" the leader hissed, his voice a harsh whisper. "Slavery is illegal in the Arcane Kingdom! If the kingdom gets wind of this¡ªif they find out we¡¯ve taken a child¡ªthey¡¯ll send the army after us. And when they catch us, they won¡¯t just kill us. They¡¯ll hang us as a warning to every criminal from here to the Empire!"


    The younger bandit swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "We just thought... maybe we could make some money, boss. It¡¯s just a kid."


    The leader slammed his fist into a nearby crate, causing the group to flinch. "It¡¯s not about money! It¡¯s about survival! You think we can survive with the kingdom breathing down our necks? You think we can outrun them?"


    No one responded.


    Bran, one of the older bandits, cleared his throat cautiously. "What do we do now, boss? We can¡¯t just... let the kid live. He could talk."


    The leader glared at him, his jaw tightening. "We don¡¯t kill kids," he said sharply. "We¡¯re criminals, but we don¡¯t go that far. Do you understand me?"


    The wiry man, always quick with his crooked grin, leaned forward. "What if we sold him to the Empire? Slavery¡¯s legal there. The Arcane Kingdom doesn¡¯t care what happens outside their borders."


    The leader turned his gaze to the wiry man, his lips curling into a sneer. "And how exactly do you plan to get him to the Empire? It¡¯s two countries away."


    The wiry man didn¡¯t falter. "I know someone. A merchant who sneaks slaves across the border in his shipments. He¡¯s done it before¡ªplenty of times. No one¡¯s ever caught him. He could take the kid, get him to the Empire, and we¡¯d get a good price for him."


    The leader¡¯s expression darkened, his brow furrowed. "And what makes you think this merchant won¡¯t betray us the first chance he gets?"


    "I trust him," the wiry man replied quickly. "He¡¯s smart, boss. Careful. He won¡¯t mess this up."


    The leader fell silent, his mind racing. Trusting an outsider was a risk, but the bandits were desperate. Their coffers were nearly empty, and this disaster had only made things worse.


    After a long pause, he exhaled slowly. "It could work," he muttered, his voice low. "And it might help us recover after this failure. But listen to me¡ªif we do this, we do it quietly. No one outside this camp hears a word. Not the kingdom, not the Empire. No one."


    The group nodded solemnly, the decision made. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but it was their only way out.


    The leader¡¯s voice cut through the heavy silence. "Get the kid ready. And tell the merchant we mean business. If he tries to cross us, we¡¯ll make sure he regrets it."


    As the bandits dispersed, the leader lingered near the fire, his gaze fixed on the boy. The child sat quietly, his wide eyes reflecting the flickering flames. The leader¡¯s expression was unreadable, but his thoughts churned.


    The boy was both their salvation and their risk. And in this dangerous game, the stakes were higher than ever.

 Chapter 10 ( plan)

    Arlen sat cross-legged by the campfire, its flickering light casting shifting shadows on his expressionless face. The crackle of burning wood mingled with the distant murmurs of the bandits, but his mind remained sharp and focused, untouched by the chaos around him. The ropes that bound his wrists bit into his skin, yet he didn¡¯t struggle. There was no fear, no hesitation¡ªonly the quiet hum of satisfaction that things were proceeding according to his calculations.


    He had known this moment would come. For months, the plan had been forming in his mind. Living in a society that measured worth by the presence of magical power, Arlen had understood his fate the moment he became self-aware. He was an anomaly, untouched by the energy that flowed through every lifeform. And because of that, he was dangerous¡ªnot to others, but to his family.


    The world didn¡¯t forgive weakness, especially not in a family as promising as his. If he stayed with them, if he went to the capital and failed the magic evaluation, the stain of his inadequacy would ripple outward. His brother Theo¡¯s burgeoning genius, his sister Lena¡¯s brilliance¡ªall of it would be overshadowed by the whispers about their ¡°worthless¡± sibling. His parents would feel the weight of shame, their ambitions for the family dimmed.


    Arlen had resolved long ago not to let that happen. But leaving wasn¡¯t a simple matter. He was just a child, a fragile, powerless child in a harsh world. Running away had been his first idea, but the odds of survival were slim. He could imagine the terrain¡ªmerciless forests, the creatures that roamed them, and the starvation that would come before anything else. Still, it had been an option, if only as a last resort.


    The second option had always been the better one: to wait. To set the stage. Over weeks, Arlen had planted seeds of information¡ªa casual remark about the caravan¡¯s valuables, a feigned overheard conversation in the market. The hints were subtle enough to escape suspicion yet irresistible to those seeking an opportunity. He knew how caravans worked, how word of their routes spread, and how bandits lurked at the edges of every journey.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    When the attack began, Arlen had played his part perfectly. He hadn¡¯t resisted, hadn¡¯t screamed. Instead, he had let himself be taken, his silence interpreted as fear. But fear was the furthest thing from his mind. This was a calculated move, a step toward freedom¡ªnot for himself, but for his family.


    Now, as he sat in the midst of his captors, his thoughts were calm, precise. The bandits believed they had taken a frightened, powerless child. In reality, he had delivered himself into their hands. He didn¡¯t spare a thought for their fates¡ªpity and anger were luxuries he couldn¡¯t afford. To him, they were tools, no different from the ropes that bound his wrists or the fire that warmed the camp.


    One of the bandits, a wiry man with a crooked grin, glanced at Arlen before quickly looking away. Even among the lawless, the boy¡¯s silence unnerved them.


    As the fire crackled, Arlen¡¯s thoughts drifted to the nature of magic itself, the concept that governed everything on this planet. People worshipped it as divine, an otherworldly force bestowed by the heavens. But Arlen saw through the myth. He understood the truth.


    Magic wasn¡¯t divine; it was a natural evolution of the planet. His absence from it wasn¡¯t a curse¡ªit was an exception, a deviation from the expected path. His body hadn¡¯t adapted like the others; he was untouched by the energy that saturated the world. And because of that, he had no place in this society. To stay would mean exposing himself, and by extension, his family. To leave was the only way to ensure their future.


    The bandits were simply a means to that end. Arlen didn¡¯t care what happened next, whether they ransomed him, abandoned him, or tried to sell him. He had already removed himself from his family¡¯s equation. His failure would be his own, not theirs.


    For a brief moment, he wondered if his absence would bring them relief or sorrow. Either way, it didn¡¯t matter. Their future was secured.


    As the night deepened, Arlen¡¯s gaze flickered to the ropes around his wrists. He could feel the tension in the camp, the way the bandits avoided looking at him for too long. They didn¡¯t know what to make of him¡ªthis quiet, unnervingly calm child who didn¡¯t cry or plead.


    The path was set, and Arlen would walk it¡ªnot as a victim, but as the quiet architect of his own destiny.

 Chapter 11 ( bright futures/sad faces )

    The wiry man spat on the ground, his crooked grin replaced by a grimace. "This kid¡¯s a curse, I tell ya. Silent as death itself. No screams, no pleading. Makes my skin crawl."


    The bandit leader frowned, the scar on his cheek deepening as he glared at Arlen, who sat motionless under a tree, his hollow gaze fixed somewhere beyond the camp. The ropes around his wrists hung loose, yet he didn¡¯t attempt to flee or resist. It was as if he had accepted his fate¡ªor worse, as if he had orchestrated it.


    ¡°Enough,¡± the leader snapped. ¡°We can¡¯t keep him. That merchant¡¯s waiting, and we need to unload.¡± He motioned to the man standing a few paces away.


    The merchant was a stark contrast to the ragged bandits¡ªa broad-shouldered man with a calculating air. His fine cloak and polished boots hinted at wealth and power, but his sharp eyes betrayed a cold, ruthless heart.


    "You¡¯ll take the boy, then?" the leader asked, his tone a mix of demand and desperation.


    The merchant studied Arlen for a moment, his expression unreadable. "He¡¯s quiet. Obedient, it seems. Fine, I¡¯ll take him¡ªbut don¡¯t expect much coin. A child like this isn¡¯t worth much unless I find the right buyer."


    Arlen¡¯s gaze shifted briefly to the merchant, then back to the ground. Not a word escaped his lips.


    The deal was struck quickly. The bandits handed Arlen over, their relief palpable. They wanted no part in whatever strange aura surrounded the boy. As the merchant¡¯s men led Arlen to one of the large carriages, the boy walked without resistance, his steps steady and deliberate.


    The caravan was a fortress on wheels. Massive carriages loaded with supplies and goods creaked under their weight. Hidden compartments housed slaves¡ªsome visible, shackled in the open, others concealed behind false walls. The merchant was no ordinary trader; he was a master at navigating the gray areas of law, smuggling people and goods wherever profit called.


    Arlen was placed in one of the hidden compartments, surrounded by a few other slaves. The others looked at him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and fear, but Arlen¡¯s hollow eyes offered no answers. His mind was elsewhere, calculating every movement, every word, every opportunity.


    The caravan began its long journey to the Empire, the wheels grinding against the earth as the days turned into weeks. Time passed in a blur for Arlen. He spoke to no one, his thoughts his only companions.


    ---


    Ten days later, far from the merchant¡¯s caravan, Arlen¡¯s family arrived at the capital of the Arcane Kingdom.


    Mary clutched her shawl tightly around her shoulders, her face pale and hollow. She moved slowly, as if each step cost her what little strength she had left. She hadn¡¯t been the same since that fateful day when the bandits took Arlen. Her appetite had faded, and even the joy of Theo¡¯s accomplishments couldn¡¯t pierce her sorrow.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    They found lodging in a modest inn, its wooden walls creaking with the wind. The family sat in silence around a small table. John rubbed his temples, his jaw clenched as he tried to mask his frustration. Theo fidgeted, his usual energy dampened by the weight of his mother¡¯s grief. Lena sat with her hands folded, her sharp eyes darting between her parents.


    ¡°Mary,¡± John began, his voice low but firm. ¡°You have to eat something. Weakness won¡¯t help us find him.¡±


    Mary didn¡¯t respond. Her gaze remained fixed on the table, her thoughts far away.


    Theo finally spoke, his voice small. ¡°Do you think¡­he¡¯s okay?¡±


    John¡¯s stern fa?ade cracked for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing his face. ¡°We¡¯ll find him, Theo. We will.¡±


    But even he didn¡¯t sound convinced.


    The capital bustled outside their window, its streets alive with merchants, guards, and magic users. Yet, within the inn¡¯s walls, the family felt the weight of their loss. Mary¡¯s grief was a wound that wouldn¡¯t heal, and the others bore its scars in silence.


    For Arlen¡¯s family, the journey to the capital was supposed to bring hope, but instead, it deepened their sorrow. Little did they know, the boy they mourned was on his own path, far from their reach, his quiet mind shaping a destiny they could never foresee.


    Days had passed since the family arrived at Lino, the grand capital of the Arkan Kingdom. The city, alive with the vibrancy of trade and culture, seemed indifferent to the shadows that loomed over them. The family, fractured by Arlen¡¯s absence, moved through the streets like ghosts, weighed down by sorrow.


    John tried to rally them. ¡°We can¡¯t let everything stop. Theo¡¯s evaluation is today, and we owe it to him to at least see it through.¡±


    Mary hesitated, her thin frame trembling as she nodded. Lena, ever observant, remained quiet, her sharp eyes darting between her parents.


    The Magic Evaluation Center was a marvel of architecture, its towering spires and shimmering banners proclaiming its importance. Inside, families crowded the waiting hall, their chatter and excitement a sharp contrast to the silence of Theo¡¯s family.


    When Theo¡¯s name was called, he practically bounced with excitement, his eyes wide with wonder. ¡°Is this where they find out how strong I¡¯ll be? Like in the stories?¡± His enthusiasm was contagious, but his family could only offer faint, pained smiles.


    Guided into an ornate chamber, Theo stood before a glowing orb, the mage in charge explaining its purpose. ¡°Place your hand on the orb, young one. It will reveal your magical potential.¡±


    Theo¡¯s small hand met the smooth surface, and the orb erupted with light, colors dancing in a mesmerizing display. The mage staggered back, his face pale with shock.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± the mage said, hurrying out. He returned moments later with the center¡¯s director, a man whose composed demeanor quickly gave way to awe as he observed the orb.


    Turning to John and Mary, the director¡¯s voice brimmed with excitement. ¡°Your son is extraordinary¡ªa prodigy of the highest order. Such potential is rarely seen.¡±


    Theo, oblivious to the weight of the words, turned to Lena with a grin. ¡°Did you hear that? I¡¯m a prodigy!¡±


    Lena patted his head with a faint smile. ¡°Yeah, Theo. That¡¯s something special.¡±


    The director gestured for the family to follow him to a private lounge, where refreshments were served. ¡°Given Theo¡¯s potential, the kingdom itself wishes to support your family. We have been authorized by the capital to provide a grand house here in Lino for you to reside in. It¡¯s part of an initiative to ensure the brightest talents have a stable and supportive environment.


    ¡°In addition,¡± he continued, ¡°John, we¡¯ve secured a position for you within the city, suited to your skills. And both Theo and Lena will be offered full scholarships to the academy. This is an extraordinary opportunity for your family and for the kingdom.¡±


    John listened intently, but his agreement was subdued. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said after a pause. ¡°This will help while we continue our search for Arlen. We¡¯ll accept your offer, but only to give us the means to keep looking for our son.¡±


    The director¡¯s excitement dimmed momentarily, though he nodded in understanding. ¡°Of course. We hope this will ease some of your burdens as you move forward.¡±


    The family moved into the house a few days later. It was grander than anything they had ever known, with spacious rooms and a lush garden, but it felt hollow without Arlen. John took up his new position, and Lena and Theo thinking for their futures at the academy.


    Yet, even with the kingdom¡¯s generosity, the family¡¯s grief remained. Every evening, Mary sat by the window, her hands clasped together as she gazed into the distance, longing for the boy who had vanished from their lives.


    And though they had been given everything, they couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that they had lost everything too.

 Chapter 12 (Arlen and the slaves)

    The wheels of the wagon groaned against the uneven road, kicking up clouds of dust that clung to the sweat-drenched slaves. The group sat in silent misery, each lost in their own thoughts¡ªor despair. Amid them, Arlen, the youngest by far, sat quietly, his small figure tucked into a corner of the wagon. He remained still, observing everything with a calm intensity that seemed out of place for his age.


    Daren and Mira sat beside him, their chains rattling softly with the wagon¡¯s jostling. Daren, the elder of the two, had a sturdy build and a protective demeanor. Mira, smaller and gentler in appearance, glanced repeatedly at Arlen with quiet concern.


    ¡°You alright, little one?¡± Mira asked softly, leaning toward him. Her voice was kind, carrying a warmth that most had long lost in the harsh reality of their situation.


    Arlen turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze briefly. ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, his voice so soft it nearly disappeared under the wagon¡¯s creaks.


    Mira frowned but pressed on. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be afraid. Daren and I will look out for you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Arlen said simply, shifting his gaze back to the dirt road stretching endlessly ahead.


    Daren chuckled lightly, though there was an edge of unease in his voice. ¡°He¡¯s a tough little guy, huh? What¡¯s your name?¡±


    Arlen hesitated for a moment, as though weighing the necessity of answering. ¡°Arlen.¡±


    Mira smiled at the response, her relief evident. ¡°That¡¯s a nice name. I¡¯m Mira, and this is my brother, Daren. We¡¯re¡­ well, I guess we¡¯re in this together now.¡±


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    Arlen didn¡¯t respond, his attention drawn to the merchants walking alongside the wagon. Their voices carried fragments of conversation¡ªtalk of routes, cargo, and the worth of each slave. His sharp mind absorbed every detail, processing and storing them.


    Mira leaned closer again, lowering her voice to avoid the guards overhearing. ¡°Do you miss your family?¡±


    Arlen didn¡¯t answer right away. He stared ahead, his expression unchanged. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but certain. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Mira blinked, surprised by the response. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± she repeated gently.


    Arlen shifted slightly, his chains clinking against the wooden planks of the wagon. He wasn¡¯t lying¡ªhe truly didn¡¯t know. Somewhere deep inside, he felt something when he thought of his mother, a pull he couldn¡¯t name or fully understand. But to miss something, to grieve it? He didn¡¯t know if that was what he felt. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he repeated, and Mira nodded as if she understood, though she clearly didn¡¯t.


    The conversation halted abruptly when a shout rang out from the front of the caravan. Heads turned as the source of the commotion became clear. One of the slaves had made a break for it, slipping from the wagon and bolting toward the trees. A guard was already on him, dragging him back by his ragged shirt.


    ¡°Trying to run, huh?¡± the guard barked, his voice laced with cruelty. Without hesitation, he struck the man with the butt of his spear, sending him sprawling into the dirt. The other slaves in the wagon flinched at the sight, some turning away, others frozen in silent horror.


    Arlen, however, didn¡¯t react like the others. He watched intently, his expression unreadable. The guard struck the man again, yelling insults and threats while the merchants barked orders to keep the rest of the slaves in line. Blood smeared the dirt as the slave groaned in pain, his escape attempt crushed under the guard¡¯s boot.


    Arlen¡¯s gaze lingered on the scene, not with fear or disgust but with curiosity. Six years of his life had been spent in quiet routine, surrounded by his family. Now, suddenly, he was thrust into a world where violence was a casual display of power. He didn¡¯t feel fear¡ªit was more like fascination, tinged with a faint sense of detachment.


    He thought about the guard¡¯s actions, the unnecessary brutality, and the slave¡¯s futile attempt to flee. Why, he wondered, did humans treat their own kind with such stupidity? The guard¡¯s aggression, the slave¡¯s desperation¡ªit all seemed so primitive, so inefficient. Was this how humanity operated, driven by emotion and short-sightedness?


    ¡°Arlen,¡± Mira whispered, her voice trembling. She must have seen his unflinching stare and mistaken it for shock. ¡°Don¡¯t look.¡±


    Arlen turned to her briefly, then back to the scene. ¡°Why do they do that?¡± he asked, not to Mira or Daren specifically but as a question to himself.


    Mira hesitated, unsure how to answer. ¡°Because they¡¯re cruel,¡± she said softly, sadness in her voice.


    Arlen tilted his head slightly. Cruelty, yes, but more than that. It was stupidity¡ªa lack of understanding or control over their own nature. He shifted his gaze away, returning to his quiet contemplation. The lesson was clear: strength and control were the rules of this world, and weakness invited suffering.

 Chapter 13 ( empire)

    The towering gates of the Empire''s capital loomed ahead, casting long shadows over the caravan as it rattled to a halt. Months of grueling travel had left the slaves worn and silent, their chains clinking softly as they were pulled from the wagons like cattle. Arlen, now accustomed to the unyielding monotony of captivity, stepped down carefully, his small frame nearly swallowed by the sea of figures around him.


    Merchants barked orders, separating slaves from the rest of their cargo. The slaves were lined up and counted with cold precision before being led away, down a path that veered sharply from the city¡¯s bustling streets. The main caravan disappeared into the city, while the slaves were herded toward an ominous destination¡ªa sprawling camp in the distance.


    Rumors among the group had already reached Arlen¡¯s ears: this was no ordinary camp. It was a staging ground for the Empire¡¯s war machine, a place where slaves were molded into soldiers, healers, and expendable workers. The faint clang of metal and distant shouts carried on the wind, painting a grim picture of their fate.


    Arlen walked in silence, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The camp was surrounded by high fences, with guards stationed at every corner. Inside, the chaos was overwhelming¡ªlines of soldiers drilling under the harsh sun, slaves moving supplies, and overseers shouting orders. The stench of sweat, dirt, and blood hung heavy in the air.


    As they entered, the group was corralled into a large, barren yard where overseers began shouting instructions. One by one, the slaves were pulled forward, their skills and strengths assessed in a crude, indifferent manner.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    When it was Mira and Daren¡¯s turn, the overseer¡¯s sharp gaze landed on them. ¡°What can you do?¡± he barked, his tone making it clear that hesitation was not an option.


    Mira spoke first, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. ¡°We¡¯re healers. It¡¯s in our bloodline.¡±


    Daren nodded in agreement. ¡°Our family has always specialized in healing magic. We¡¯re strong in it.¡±


    The overseer¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he scribbled something onto his parchment. ¡°Good. You¡¯re valuable. Don¡¯t think that makes you special, though. Do your job, or you¡¯ll be replaced.¡±


    Mira and Daren exchanged a glance, relief and unease mingling in their expressions.


    Then it was Arlen¡¯s turn. He stepped forward, his small stature earning a scoff from the overseer. ¡°What about you, kid? What can you do?¡±


    Arlen met the man¡¯s gaze without flinching. ¡°Nothing,¡± he said plainly.


    The overseer sneered. ¡°Figures. You¡¯re too young for the frontlines anyway. Fine, you¡¯ll run errands. Don¡¯t get in the way.¡±


    Without another word, Arlen was shoved back into the group, his assignment decided with as little thought as one might give to a stray dog. Mira and Daren watched him anxiously as they were separated, their chains leading them toward a different part of the camp.


    Mira knelt briefly, her chains clinking as she grasped Arlen¡¯s hand. ¡°Stay safe, okay? We¡¯ll see each other again,¡± she said, her voice trembling with forced optimism.


    Daren nodded, placing a firm hand on Arlen¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Keep your head down, kid. Don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡±


    Arlen didn¡¯t reply, only giving a small nod. As the two were led away, he stood still, watching until they disappeared into the throng of activity.


    Now alone, Arlen was thrust into the camp¡¯s chaotic rhythm. His tasks were menial¡ªcleaning, carrying supplies, and delivering messages between officers. But he observed everything with quiet intensity, learning the camp¡¯s structure, its weaknesses, and the dynamics of those who ran it.


    The separation from Mira and Daren didn¡¯t bother him as it might have others. He saw no point in clinging to connections that could be severed at any moment. Survival, he realized, wasn¡¯t about sentiment¡ªit was about understanding, about knowing when to act and when to wait.


    And Arlen was very good at waiting.

 Chapter 14 (The redzone)

    There exists a terrifying enigma on the planet, whispered in tales and feared across every kingdom: the Red Zones. These sprawling, desolate regions are vast, each as large as a country, yet completely uninhabited. To outsiders, they appear eerily quiet, with lifeless landscapes stretching endlessly, broken only by jagged cliffs and crimson-tinged soil. But their true danger lies in the unseen¡ªa potent, suffocating force that radiates from the minerals buried deep within the land.


    This force, an overabundance of magic particles, makes the Red Zones lethal to all who dare to enter. For those who possess even a sliver of magic within them¡ªa trait shared by every living being on this planet¡ªthe outcome is horrifying. The magic within their own bodies rebels, clashing violently with the chaotic energy of the Red Zone. Within moments, their internal magic spirals out of control, leading to agonizing death. Those with weaker magic might endure slightly longer¡ªten to fifteen minutes, at most¡ªbut survival beyond that is impossible.


    Because of this, the Red Zones remain largely unexplored, their secrets locked away. There are rumors, of course. Some speak of forgotten civilizations buried within, their remnants hidden beneath layers of crimson earth. Others claim that the Red Zones are cursed, the result of ancient, catastrophic magic gone awry. But no one truly knows. Every attempt to uncover the truth has ended the same way¡ªwith lifeless bodies scattered at the edges of these forbidden lands.


    The boundaries of the Red Zones are stark. Travelers know to avoid the faint crimson hue that stains the air near their borders, a subtle warning that death lies beyond. Even animals, instinctively wary, steer clear, leaving these regions barren and hauntingly quiet.


    Despite the danger, the Red Zones continue to capture the imagination of scholars and adventurers alike. What lies beyond the deathly expanse? Are there treasures or lost knowledge waiting to be uncovered? Or is it nothing but destruction and decay? These questions linger unanswered, as no one alive can approach close enough to find out.


    The Red Zones were a mystery no one dared to unravel. Their crimson borders marked death, and the vast lands within remained untouched by life, a silent challenge to those foolish enough to imagine they could conquer the unknown. But Arlen had no time to dwell on such mysteries. His reality was far from the eerie desolation of the Red Zones.


    He sat quietly in the corner of the Empire¡¯s camp at the border of the Whiteland Kingdom. The air was thick with tension, the sounds of clanking armor and distant battle cries creating a constant, oppressive hum. Smoke curled from the horizon where skirmishes raged on, a grim reminder of the war.


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    Arlen, though only a child, had little reprieve. As a slave in service to the Empire¡¯s forces, he was tasked with running errands, fetching water, delivering messages, and tending to menial tasks for the soldiers. The weight of exhaustion hung on his small frame, but he rarely complained. His mind, always calculating, always observing, was what kept him going.


    ¡°Arlen! Arlen!¡±


    The familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned just in time to see Mira running toward him, her face alight with joy despite the grim surroundings. Behind her was Deryn, his expression more reserved but no less relieved.


    ¡°Arlen!¡± Mira called again, reaching him in a few quick strides and throwing her arms around him. ¡°I finally found you!¡± Her voice was trembling with emotion, as though seeing him again after months apart was the one good thing she¡¯d had to hold on to.


    ¡°Mira,¡± Arlen said softly, his tone calm, as always.


    Deryn approached at a slower pace, giving a small nod when he reached them. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you alive, kid,¡± he said, his deep voice steady. ¡°We¡¯ve been looking for you for weeks.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here,¡± Arlen replied simply, his words lacking the dramatic weight of their reunion.


    Mira pulled back, her hands still gripping his arms. ¡°We didn¡¯t know if you¡¯d made it. After the last retreat, everything fell apart. They sent us back to the border camp because healers are ¡®too important,¡¯ but I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about you.¡±


    Deryn folded his arms, glancing toward the chaotic activity of the camp. ¡°Things aren¡¯t looking good. The Whiteland Kingdom¡¯s forces are pushing back harder than expected. The Empire thought they had the upper hand, but now¡­ we¡¯re losing ground.¡±


    Mira¡¯s expression darkened for a moment. ¡°We¡¯ve seen so many wounded, Arlen. It¡¯s horrible. Every day, the infirmary is overflowing. And now, the Empire is struggling to keep their foothold in enemy territory.¡± She shook her head, forcing a small smile to return. ¡°But seeing you here¡­ it feels like something good, at least.¡±


    Arlen nodded, saying nothing. He wasn¡¯t sure what comfort he could offer, even if he¡¯d wanted to.


    The three of them sat down near the edge of the camp, away from the noise but close enough to feel the weight of the war looming over them. Mira talked about the endless work in the infirmary, the soldiers she and Deryn had tried to save, and the grim reality of those they couldn¡¯t. Despite her words, there was an odd sense of relief in her voice, as if talking to Arlen gave her a moment of normalcy.


    Deryn occasionally added his perspective, speaking about the tactics of the Whiteland Kingdom and how their forces seemed unnervingly coordinated. The Empire, despite its might, was struggling to maintain its hold.


    For a while, they let the grimness of the war fade, finding solace in the simple act of being together. Mira leaned back against a crate, laughing softly as she recalled a moment from their old lives, and even Deryn allowed himself a faint smile. Arlen, as always, remained mostly silent, listening as their words painted pictures of a life that seemed so far away now.


    But the moment didn¡¯t last. A sharp call broke through the camp¡¯s background noise, and a soldier approached, urgency clear in his voice. ¡°We need healers at the infirmary. Now.¡±


    Mira sighed, her cheerful demeanor slipping as she stood. ¡°That¡¯s us,¡± she said, glancing at Arlen. ¡°Stay out of trouble, alright? We¡¯ll come find you again later.¡±


    Deryn gave a brief nod before following her. ¡°Keep your head down, kid,¡± he said over his shoulder.


    Arlen watched them go, their figures disappearing into the chaos of the camp. The faint warmth of their reunion lingered, but it couldn¡¯t mask the cold reality of their situation. He turned his gaze back toward the horizon, his mind already drifting to thoughts of survival and the endless calculations of what might come next.

 Chapter 15

    The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and dirt as Arlen trudged along the beaten path, the wooden yoke on his shoulders cutting into his skin. The weight of the water barrels pulled at his small frame, but he pressed on. This was routine¡ªbringing supplies to the backlines of the battlefield, a grim rhythm that had marked his days for months now.


    The soldiers barked orders at the slaves, their voices harsh and impatient. Arlen kept his head down, his steps steady despite the ache in his muscles. He had learned long ago that showing weakness only made things worse. His hands were calloused, his body thin, but his will was unyielding. He wouldn¡¯t falter. Not here.


    When they reached their destination, a familiar grim scene unfolded. Soldiers in bloodied armor milled about, some tending to wounds while others prepared to move forward. The slaves offloaded the supplies in silence, their presence barely acknowledged by the Empire¡¯s warriors.


    But today, something felt different. The air was colder, the tension sharper. As Arlen set down his barrels, his eyes flicked toward the horizon. The soldiers who had been sent ahead to hold the line were not returning. Whispers passed between the guards, their faces pale with unease.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Then they saw it¡ªthe field beyond was littered with bodies. The soldiers who had been positioned there, once the Empire¡¯s shield, lay broken and lifeless. Blood pooled in the dirt, the silence deafening. The slaves froze, their breath caught in their throats.


    Before the shock could fully sink in, a new sound filled the air¡ªthe battle cry of the White Land soldiers. Emerging from the treeline, they moved swiftly, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.


    ¡°Spare none of them!¡± one of them roared. ¡°No one is to escape!¡±


    Panic erupted among the slaves. Some fell to their knees, paralyzed by fear, while others tried to run. Arlen didn¡¯t hesitate. His survival instincts took over as he turned and bolted, his bare feet pounding against the dirt.


    Behind him, chaos reigned. The screams of the dying and the clash of steel rang out, but Arlen didn¡¯t look back. He ran with everything he had, his breath ragged and his heart pounding in his chest. The forest loomed ahead, dark and unwelcoming, but it offered the only hope of escape.


    Hours passed as he fled, the world around him fading into shadows. He didn¡¯t stop until, in the darkness, he spotted the mouth of a cave nestled in the hillside. It wasn¡¯t much, but it would do.


    Arlen stumbled inside, collapsing against the cool stone. His body ached, every muscle screaming for rest, but he forced himself to stay alert. The night was quiet, but the memory of the massacre lingered, a haunting reminder of how close he had come to death.


    For the first time in months, Arlen was alone¡ªcompletely separated from the war, the Empire, and its chains.

 Chapter 16

    Arlen collapsed onto the cool stone floor of the cave, his body giving out after hours of relentless running. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, but exhaustion claimed him before he could think of anything else. The world blurred into darkness, and for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind went quiet.


    When he woke, the faint light of dawn seeped through the cave''s entrance. His stomach twisted painfully, reminding him he hadn¡¯t eaten since the morning of the massacre. He pushed himself up, his body protesting with every movement, and shuffled to the cave''s mouth.


    Outside, the forest stretched endlessly. The air was damp, carrying the scent of earth and foliage. Driven by hunger, Arlen began to search the area, scanning the undergrowth for anything that might serve as food. He found clusters of wild plants, their leaves unfamiliar but promising. He hesitated, recalling what he¡¯d read in one of the books he had secretly devoured in the past.


    Testing small pieces first, Arlen chewed cautiously, spitting out anything that tasted bitter or numbed his tongue. Over the course of the day, he identified a few plants that didn¡¯t make him sick and started gathering them. Using sharp stones, he fashioned crude tools to crush and mix the plants, experimenting with ways to make the tough leaves and roots easier to eat.


    Days passed in this routine. Arlen adapted quickly, his methodical nature helping him determine which plants were safe and which weren¡¯t. His body grew leaner, but he survived. However, his sense of unease deepened.


    While foraging one afternoon, he spotted signs of danger¡ªlarge tracks imprinted in the soil and broken branches at odd heights. Not far from the cave, he glimpsed a hulking beast with thick fur and gleaming eyes, tearing into the carcass of a smaller animal. His heart raced as he backed away silently, his thoughts racing.


    The beasts here weren¡¯t just scavengers; they were predators, and staying near the cave was no longer an option. The war loomed on one side, the danger of the forest on the other, but Arlen knew he had to keep moving.


    Gathering what little he could carry¡ªmainly the safe plants he had identified¡ªhe set off deeper into the wilderness. Every step was calculated, every noise in the underbrush analyzed. His goal was simple: find a place far enough from both the war and the predators to stay alive.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    As he ventured further, the forest grew denser, the canopy blocking out the sun. The air felt heavier, and the sounds of distant animals echoed around him. Arlen¡¯s pace never faltered, though. Survival wasn¡¯t about fear¡ªit was about moving forward, one step at a time.


    Days blurred into weeks as Arlen moved through the forest, never staying in one place for long. Each morning, he woke with the first light, his body stiff from sleeping on uneven ground. He would scavenge for food, piece together what he could from the plants and occasional fruits he found, and set out again before the sun reached its peak.


    At first, it was pure necessity. Arlen had no choice but to adapt. He learned to identify edible plants more quickly and discovered the art of watching animals. If birds pecked at berries or squirrels stored nuts, they were often safe for him to eat. He fashioned a pouch from large leaves and vines to carry what he gathered, ensuring he had something to sustain him when food became scarce.


    One day, while sharpening a stick into a makeshift spear, he stumbled upon a shallow stream. The sight of fish darting beneath the surface set his mind racing. Over the next few days, he experimented with techniques he had only read about in books¡ªusing his spear to catch fish, creating simple traps from woven branches, and even learning how to use the sun to dry the meat for longer storage. It wasn¡¯t easy; his first attempts were clumsy, and he often went hungry after failing. But persistence paid off, and eventually, he succeeded.


    As he moved deeper into the forest, the terrain shifted. The trees grew taller, their trunks wider and more ancient. The undergrowth became denser, and the air cooler. He encountered new challenges¡ªslick moss-covered rocks, sudden rainstorms, and even the occasional predator. He learned to recognize the sounds of the forest, distinguishing harmless rustles from the ominous approach of something larger.


    One evening, he discovered a strange clearing where the trees were twisted unnaturally, their roots coiled above ground like serpents. The soil here was soft and black, rich with the scent of decay. Among the roots, he found mushrooms glowing faintly in the dim light. Curious but cautious, he took only a small sample, carefully testing it over the next few days. It turned out to be edible and provided much-needed energy when his other food sources ran low.


    As the weeks passed, Arlen¡¯s instincts sharpened. He crafted a better spear with a stone tip he had painstakingly chipped into shape. He learned to start a fire using dried moss and friction, the warm glow a rare comfort in the cold nights. He even discovered how to weave small shelters from branches and leaves, giving him brief respite from the rain.


    Yet, even as he grew stronger and more adept, the loneliness of the forest pressed on him. At night, when the distant cries of beasts echoed through the trees, he would sit by his fire and stare into the flames, his mind drifting. Memories of his time as a slave felt distant, like shadows of another life. He didn¡¯t mourn what he had lost; he simply accepted it.


    One fateful day, while foraging near a rocky outcrop, Arlen stumbled upon a set of peculiar markings carved into the stone. They were geometric, precise, and unmistakably artificial. He ran his fingers over the grooves, curiosity sparking in his hollowed mind. Someone, or something, had been here before him.


    The discovery stirred something in him¡ªa sense of purpose beyond mere survival. He didn¡¯t know what lay ahead, but he knew he couldn¡¯t turn back. With his makeshift spear in hand and his knowledge of the wild growing, he set his sights forward, deeper into the unknown.

 Chapter 17

    Arlen trudged forward, his gaze sweeping the increasingly strange terrain around him. The trees had transformed; their bark no longer carried the rough, familiar texture of the forest but instead seemed smooth and metallic in places, as though their growth had been stunted and warped by something unseen. The air, too, felt thinner¡ªlighter, almost¡ªbut not suffocating, just... different.


    He paused by one of the twisted trees, running a hand along its odd surface. It was cold to the touch, as if lifeless, though the tree still stood tall and firm. He couldn¡¯t shake the eerie silence that had settled around him. There were no rustling leaves, no chirping birds, not even the occasional scurrying of small animals. It was a quiet so profound that it gnawed at his senses.


    At first, he thought it was his exhaustion playing tricks on him. But as the hours passed, the differences grew starker. The grass beneath his feet had faded to a sickly gray-green, and patches of soil were oddly glossy, reflecting the weak sunlight like polished stone. Arlen didn¡¯t realize it, but he was stepping deeper and deeper into the heart of the red zone.


    Unaware of the danger that would send others fleeing, he pressed forward, driven by an instinct to find safety. His steps faltered as he noticed something peculiar¡ªsmall shrubs growing in erratic, crystalline shapes, their translucent branches catching the light. They were unlike anything he had seen, and yet they seemed to thrive in this barren, silent expanse.


    ¡°Why does it feel... empty?¡± he muttered to himself, the sound of his voice almost startling in the quiet.


    He stopped to rest beside a strange hollow where the ground dipped unnaturally. The edges were jagged, almost as if something had clawed the earth apart. No plants grew in the hollow, just a smooth, blackened surface that glimmered faintly. Arlen crouched, touching it curiously. It wasn¡¯t hot, but it radiated an odd sense of finality, as though it marked the end of life itself.


    Unbeknownst to him, this was the edge of the red zone, a boundary that no other living being dared cross. But Arlen, free of magic, was an anomaly. As he moved forward, the red zone revealed its true nature. The deeper he ventured, the more surreal the environment became.


    The trees grew taller but thinner, their branches twisting toward the ground like clawed fingers. The air had an almost metallic tang, and Arlen could feel a faint vibration beneath his feet, as if the very ground resonated with some hidden energy.


    Despite the strange surroundings, Arlen felt no fear. If anything, the absence of life was oddly comforting. For the first time in weeks, he felt safe¡ªunwatched and untouched by the chaos of the war-torn world outside.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Still, his logical mind took note of the peculiarities. "If nothing lives here, why am I still standing?" he wondered aloud. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as he moved deeper into the strange terrain, unknowingly stepping into a realm that no one else dared to explore.


    Arlen moved cautiously, each step drawing him deeper into the surreal expanse of the red zone. Days had passed since he first crossed its invisible threshold, and the world around him felt more alien with every mile. The ground beneath his feet had shifted from its glossy, polished appearance to something more crystalline¡ªfractured shards of earth that crunched underfoot like broken glass. The trees, once vaguely familiar in their warped forms, now resembled jagged sculptures, their translucent trunks refracting the light in kaleidoscopic patterns.


    Arlen had long since stopped questioning the silence. It was no longer unsettling but had instead become a strange comfort, a reminder that nothing living would disturb him here. Yet, his sharp mind couldn¡¯t ignore the obvious: this place wasn¡¯t lifeless¡ªit was brimming with something else entirely.


    The air shimmered faintly, as if saturated with an unseen energy. Occasionally, Arlen felt a tingling on his skin, like the prickle of static electricity, but it never caused him pain. He had seen no animals, no insects, not even the faintest signs of decay or rot. Everything organic seemed to wither before it could take hold.


    While resting by a shallow stream of eerily clear water, Arlen began piecing together what he had observed. "Nothing survives here," he muttered, running a hand through the water. It was icy cold, yet perfectly still, untouched by any signs of life. His mind wandered to the strange signs he had seen before entering the red zone¡ªthe warnings carved in the Empire¡¯s language that he couldn¡¯t read.


    "They were telling people to stay out," he realized. "Because this place... kills them."


    Arlen¡¯s thoughts turned inward. He had always known he was different, his lack of magic a constant reminder that he didn¡¯t belong in this world of glowing power and enchanted beings. Yet here, in the red zone, that difference was his salvation. He wasn¡¯t affected by the overwhelming essence of magic that would tear apart any other living being. For the first time, his anomaly felt like a gift.


    As days passed, Arlen tested his theory. He ventured deeper into the heart of the zone, observing the strange flora and terrain. He touched the crystalline trees, waded through streams that glowed faintly in the dark, and even lay on patches of shimmering ground that pulsed with energy. Nothing harmed him.


    He spent nights experimenting, using his limited tools to understand the peculiar properties of the land. He tried cutting one of the crystalline trees, only to find that its branches melted into a viscous liquid when severed, evaporating into the air moments later. He attempted to light a fire using some of the peculiar grass but found that it refused to burn, instead releasing a faint hum before disintegrating into ash.


    It all pointed to the same conclusion: this was a place where magic overflowed, saturating everything to the point of toxicity. For anyone else, it was death. For Arlen, it was sanctuary.


    Sitting under the refracted light of the crystalline trees one evening, he made his decision. "I can live here," he said to himself, his voice steady. "At least for now. No one can reach me, and no one can hurt me."


    But survival was still a challenge. The food he found was unlike anything he had eaten before¡ªroots that tasted metallic, fruits that dissolved in his mouth like vapor, and streams of water that left a strange aftertaste. Over weeks of trial and error, he identified what could sustain him. He learned to recognize the subtle differences between edible plants and those that caused nausea or dizziness.


    Though the red zone was harsh, it was consistent. Its dangers were predictable, unlike the chaos of war or the cruelty of men. And Arlen found a grim sort of peace in that.


    For the first time since fleeing the battlefield, he felt safe. Here, he was untouchable.


    And yet, even as he resolved to stay, a thought lingered in the back of his mind: What kind of place is this really? And why does it feel like it was waiting for me?

 Chapter 18

    Seven years had passed since the family had lost Arlen. The years had softened the sharp edges of grief, but the void he left behind lingered, like a shadow in the corners of their lives. In that time, Theo had grown into a bright and determined young man, his energy a stark contrast to the quietness that often filled their home.


    The morning was quiet, the kind of stillness that made the sound of the kettle whistling seem almost too loud. Marie stood at the stove, carefully stirring a pot of oatmeal. She glanced over her shoulder at Theo, who was lounging at the kitchen table, scribbling notes into a journal.


    ¡°You¡¯ve barely touched your breakfast,¡± Marie said, her tone light but insistent. She set down the wooden spoon and turned to him, hands on her hips. ¡°How are you supposed to grow strong if you don¡¯t eat properly?¡±


    Theo looked up, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m already taller than you, Mom. Maybe I don¡¯t need the oatmeal.¡± He gestured toward the bowl with mock disdain.


    Marie narrowed her eyes but smiled despite herself. ¡°Taller, yes. But not smarter. Oatmeal is good for the brain, you know.¡± She walked over and nudged the bowl closer to him. ¡°Eat.¡±


    Theo sighed dramatically but picked up his spoon. ¡°Fine, fine. But only because I¡¯m scared of you.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Marie said, tapping his shoulder playfully. She sat down across from him, watching as he ate. For a moment, the room was filled with the quiet clink of the spoon against the bowl. Then, her expression softened, and her voice lowered. ¡°You¡¯ve been working so hard, Theo. I just¡­ I don¡¯t want you to overdo it.¡±


    He paused mid-bite, looking up at her. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Mom. Really. I like working hard. Besides,¡± he added with a smirk, ¡°someone¡¯s got to make you proud.¡±


    Marie¡¯s smile faltered slightly, her eyes clouding with a mix of pride and sadness. ¡°You already make me proud, Theo. Every single day. But you don¡¯t have to carry everything on your shoulders, you know. You¡¯re still my little boy.¡±


    Theo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. ¡°Little? I¡¯m fourteen now. Not exactly a kid anymore.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll always be my kid,¡± Marie said firmly. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, ¡°Even when you¡¯re off at the academy.¡±Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    At the mention of the academy, Theo¡¯s expression shifted. He set his spoon down and met her gaze. ¡°You¡¯ll be okay, won¡¯t you? When I leave?¡±


    Marie hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her apron. ¡°Of course I will. You don¡¯t have to worry about me.¡± She reached out and placed a hand over his. ¡°But it¡¯s going to be awfully quiet around here without you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll visit,¡± Theo said quickly. ¡°And write. I promise.¡±


    Marie nodded, her smile returning but tinged with a hint of melancholy. ¡°You¡¯d better. Otherwise, I¡¯ll come to the academy myself and drag you back home.¡±


    Theo chuckled, the sound warm and full of affection. ¡°I¡¯d like to see you try.¡±


    Their laughter filled the room, momentarily easing the bittersweet undercurrent of the conversation.


    After their laughter faded, the house settled into its usual rhythm. Theo helped clear the dishes, despite Marie¡¯s insistence that she could handle it. They moved around each other in the kitchen with the ease of habit, their bond shining through the simple act of tidying up.


    As the day wore on, Theo retreated to his room to pack. The academy required precision and readiness, and he was determined to make a good impression. He carefully folded his clothes and arranged his books, pausing occasionally to glance at the window. Outside, the sun hung low in the sky, painting the fields in golden light.


    Marie knocked softly before entering. She leaned against the doorframe, watching as Theo struggled to fit a particularly stubborn cloak into his bag. ¡°Need help?¡±


    He grinned at her without turning around. ¡°Nope. Got it all under control.¡±


    She stepped in anyway, picking up a stray sock from the bed and placing it neatly into the bag. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s already time for you to leave,¡± she said, her voice quieter now.


    Theo looked up, his expression serious. ¡°It¡¯s just the academy, Mom. I¡¯m not going to war or anything.¡±


    Marie gave a small laugh, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. ¡°I know. It¡¯s just¡­ you¡¯ve grown up so fast. Feels like just yesterday you were running around with your toy sword, pretending to fight dragons.¡±


    He smirked. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll fight real ones now.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope not,¡± she replied, her voice catching slightly.


    They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the coming goodbye settling between them. Then, with a deep breath, Marie stepped forward and pulled Theo into a hug.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to do amazing things,¡± she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder. ¡°I just know it.¡±


    He hugged her back tightly, the rare gesture of affection speaking volumes. ¡°Thanks, Mom. For everything.¡±


    The next morning came all too quickly. Theo stood at the gate with his bags slung over his shoulder, his father, John, standing beside him. Marie fidgeted with Theo¡¯s cloak, making sure it sat just right.


    ¡°You¡¯ll write, won¡¯t you?¡± she asked again.


    ¡°I will,¡± Theo promised, his voice steady.


    John clapped a hand on Theo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°We¡¯re proud of you, son. Remember that.¡±


    ¡°I know, Dad.¡± Theo turned to both of them, his confidence shining through. ¡°I¡¯ll make you proud.¡±


    As the carriage arrived to take him to the academy, Theo climbed in, giving them one last wave. Marie watched until the carriage disappeared from view, her heart a mixture of pride and sorrow.


    Beside her, John placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. ¡°He¡¯s going to be okay, Marie. So are we.¡±


    Marie nodded, though her gaze lingered on the empty road. ¡°I know. It¡¯s just¡­ the house feels emptier every time one of them leaves.¡±


    John sighed, his grip tightening briefly. ¡°We¡¯ll manage. We always do.¡±


    Inside the carriage, Theo leaned back against the seat, staring out at the passing countryside. Excitement and nerves danced in his chest as he thought about what lay ahead. The academy was a world of opportunity, a place where he could prove himself and grow into the prodigy everyone believed him to be.


    But somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn¡¯t help but think of the brother he¡¯d lost so many years ago. A part of him wondered if Arlen would¡¯ve been proud too.

 Chapter:19

    The carriage rolled to a stop before the towering gates of the Academy of Arcane Excellence, its golden insignia gleaming in the midday sun. Theo stepped out, his eyes scanning the grandeur of the sprawling campus. Stone towers loomed against the bright sky, their surfaces etched with glowing runes, while pathways of polished marble wove through verdant gardens.


    Students in deep blue and gold uniforms moved through the courtyard, some engaged in quiet conversations while others demonstrated magic that crackled and shimmered in the air. The academy radiated energy and brilliance, a beacon of promise and ambition.


    Adjusting the strap of his leather satchel, Theo stood straighter, his nerves hidden beneath his composed expression. He felt the weight of his journey, the expectations that came with being a scholarship student sponsored by the Arcane Kingdom itself.


    A stern but kind-looking instructor approached him. ¡°Theodore, is it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Theo replied, his voice steady.


    ¡°Follow me. The headmaster has requested your presence at the evening assembly for first-year introductions. Until then, I¡¯ll show you to the dormitories.¡±


    Theo¡¯s steps fell in rhythm with the instructor¡¯s as they moved through the campus. Along the way, he saw glimpses of what awaited him: students levitating objects, conjuring flames, and weaving intricate spells. Each display of magic seemed more impressive than the last, but Theo remained unshaken, a quiet fire burning in his chest.


    After settling into his room, Theo dressed in the ceremonial blue robe left for him. When evening fell, he joined the other first-years in the grand central hall, a place of immense splendor. Crystal chandeliers floated above, casting warm light across the polished floor. At the front of the hall stood the headmaster, Evelyn Grace, her silver hair gleaming as she addressed the students.


    ¡°Welcome, scholars, to the Academy of Arcane Excellence,¡± she began, her voice carrying authority and warmth. ¡°You are here because you are extraordinary. Each of you has shown potential that sets you apart. Among you are future leaders, innovators, and defenders of the realm.¡±


    Her gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on a group of students standing on a raised platform to the side. ¡°Tonight, we also recognize a few individuals who have already distinguished themselves before even stepping into these halls.¡±


    A murmur spread through the crowd as the prodigies were introduced, each stepping forward to polite applause:


    Lila: With her fiery red hair and commanding presence, she specialized in elemental magic, particularly wind, and was known for her unmatched dueling skills.


    Emma: A quiet girl with piercing green eyes, she excelled in enchantments and runic magic, her precision earning her recognition even from senior scholars.


    Cora: A gentle healer with a gift for manipulating life energy, her abilities had already saved lives and garnered admiration from across the kingdom.


    Jacob: The illusionist, with a mischievous grin and a knack for crafting illusions so lifelike they bordered on reality, his creativity was legendary.


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    Finally, Evelyn Grace turned her attention to Theo. ¡°And, last but certainly not least, we welcome Theodore, a scholarship student sponsored by the Arcane Kingdom itself.¡±


    The hall quieted, eyes turning to Theo as he stepped forward. Despite the weight of their gazes, he held his head high.


    ¡°Theodore comes to us with exceptional promise,¡± Evelyn continued, her tone firm and measured. ¡°His talents have earned him the rare honor of the kingdom¡¯s full endorsement, a privilege granted only to those believed to hold the potential to shape our future.¡±


    The applause that followed was polite but tinged with curiosity. Theo¡¯s fellow students whispered among themselves, trying to size him up. He bowed slightly, his movements controlled and deliberate, before stepping back into the line of prodigies.


    As the assembly ended, the students dispersed into smaller groups, chatter filling the grand hall. Theo stood for a moment, letting the weight of the evening settle. He had been introduced not just as another student but as someone special¡ªa responsibility he both embraced and silently challenged himself to exceed.


    The prodigies lingered together near the edge of the hall, their interactions a mix of camaraderie and competition. Lila, ever the bold one, turned to Theo.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see, Theo. They love to talk about potential, but here, actions speak louder than words. Hope you can keep up.¡± Her grin was teasing, but her eyes hinted at the rivalry brewing beneath.


    ¡°I plan to do more than keep up,¡± Theo replied evenly, the confidence in his tone unmistakable.


    Emma, standing nearby, studied Theo quietly. ¡°You¡¯ve got an aura about you. Calm, but¡­ determined. Interesting.¡±


    Cora smiled kindly. ¡°Don¡¯t mind them. They¡¯re just trying to gauge you. Everyone here is brilliant in their own way.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Jacob added with a smirk. ¡°But brilliance doesn¡¯t mean much if you can¡¯t survive the trials.¡±


    Theo tilted his head slightly, intrigued. ¡°Trials?¡±


    ¡°Ah, they didn¡¯t tell you?¡± Jacob¡¯s grin widened. ¡°The academy loves its tests. And the first one¡¯s in two days.¡±


    Lila rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not a trial, Jacob. It¡¯s a placement exam to measure our abilities. Don¡¯t scare him off.¡±


    Jacob shrugged. ¡°Call it what you want. But it¡¯s more than just a test¡ªit¡¯s a way to show everyone where you stand.¡±


    The idea of a placement exam didn¡¯t rattle Theo. If anything, it sharpened his focus. This was his chance to prove himself, not just to his peers but to the entire academy.


    That night, as Theo returned to his dormitory, he found himself reflecting on the day. The academy was unlike anything he had ever imagined. The air seemed to hum with magic, and the sheer scale of the campus was both overwhelming and inspiring.


    He sat by the window, gazing out at the moonlit grounds. In the distance, he could see faint glimmers of light where students practiced late into the night. The prodigies he had met were impressive, no doubt, but Theo felt something stirring within him¡ªa quiet resolve to surpass even the brightest among them.


    When morning came, Theo threw himself into the rhythm of academy life. Classes began promptly, covering everything from magical theory to practical application. The instructors were as formidable as the students, their lessons demanding precision and creativity.


    By the second day, whispers about the placement exam buzzed through the halls. Students speculated about the challenges, each one more elaborate than the last. Some claimed it involved complex spellcasting; others insisted it tested raw magical power.


    When the morning of the exam arrived, the first-years gathered in an enormous stone amphitheater. The headmaster stood at the center, her presence commanding immediate silence.


    ¡°Today¡¯s placement exam is not merely about testing your skills,¡± Evelyn Grace announced. ¡°It is about understanding who you are as a mage. Strength, intellect, creativity¡ªall are vital. But so is adaptability. You will each face a unique challenge, tailored to push you to your limits.¡±


    Theo¡¯s heart quickened as his name was called among the first group. Stepping forward, he joined the other prodigies, their expressions a mix of excitement and determination.


    The arena shifted, its walls glowing with runes as the space morphed into individual testing zones. Theo stepped into his assigned area, the ground beneath him solidifying into a platform surrounded by shimmering energy.


    His challenge was announced: ¡°Control and precision. Conjure a protective barrier while simultaneously neutralizing incoming attacks.¡±


    Theo took a deep breath, his mind steady. As magical orbs began hurtling toward him, he extended his hands, summoning a barrier of shimmering light. The first orb struck, and Theo absorbed the impact with a calculated adjustment to his shield.


    More orbs came, faster and in unpredictable patterns. Theo¡¯s focus sharpened, his movements fluid as he deflected and neutralized each attack. His precision was near flawless, his barrier adapting seamlessly to the onslaught.


    When the test concluded, the instructor overseeing his performance nodded approvingly. ¡°Impressive. Few manage such balance on their first attempt.¡±


    Theo stepped out of the arena, his confidence bolstered. Around him, the other prodigies were completing their challenges, each displaying remarkable skill. But even among such talent, Theo felt he had made his mark.


    As the day ended, the first-years gathered once more to hear their results. Evelyn Grace stood before them, her expression as unreadable as ever.


    ¡°You have all shown great promise,¡± she began. ¡°And while this is just the beginning, some of you have already distinguished yourselves.¡±


    When Theo¡¯s name was called among the top scorers, a ripple of acknowledgment passed through the crowd. Lila gave him a playful nudge. ¡°Not bad, kingdom boy. Not bad at all.¡±


    Theo allowed himself a small smile. He had only just begun.

 Notice

    Hello dear readers,


    I hope you''re all doing well. Due to my ongoing medical studies and recent exams, I¡¯ve had to take a break from writing the novel. Life has been quite demanding, but I genuinely miss working on the story. I¡¯m reaching out to see if there are still readers who are interested in following Arlen¡¯s journey. Your feedback means a lot to me and will help me decide whether to continue writing or focus my efforts elsewhere. Thank you all for your incredible support and understanding!This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.