The failure of the Obsidian Orchid snare left a lingering, foul taste in the air of the Zaqor Manor. Tere's violet eyes, usually so calm and mocking, had become sharp, tracking Nard's movements with a lethal curiosity. But Nard knew that suspicion without proof was merely a ghost, and he had become a master of walking like a shadow.
The true storm, however, broke on a rainy afternoon when Nard was summoned to his father's ancestral study.
The study was a room of dark, heavy mahogany, smelling of old paper and the bitter herbs Rrejy used to suppress his lingering battle injuries. Rrejy stood near the arched window, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside him stood Ralph, his face smug, and Tere, who sat in a velvet armchair, her fingers delicately tracing the rim of her teacup.
On the desk between them lay a velvet-lined wooden box. Inside it rested a shimmering silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a perfect emerald nestled at its center.
It was the Aetheria Rose Pendant—Maria's most sacred relic, a Tier 6 healing conduit that had once channeled her legendary restorative magic. It was the only physical memory Nard had left of his mother.
"Nard," Rrejy's deep, gravelly voice cut through the sound of rain lashing against the glass. He did not turn around. "Your mother was a woman of immense stature in this kingdom. Her magic was a gift that brought honor to the Zaqor name. But magic is not meant to be hoarded by the dead, nor is it meant to rot in the hands of a hollow shell."
Nard kept his head bowed, his shoulders slumping as he stared at his worn leather boots. "Yes, Father."
Rrejy turned, his fierce eyes locking onto Nard with absolute, freezing disdain. "The Royal Academy's winter trials are approaching. Ralph has consolidated his Tier 2 light core, but his mana capacity needs a catalyst to ensure his acceptance into the elite battle-mage division. Tomorrow, Ralph will inherit the Aetheria Rose."
A cold, sharp needle of fury pierced Nard's heart. Beneath his drab tunic, his dual-nature core pulsed violently, the spinning rings of white and emerald mana grinding against his bones. They want to give her life's work to Ralph. To the boy who mocked her memory.
"But... Father," Nard whispered, forcing his voice to tremble, playing the pathetic, desperate boy they expected. "That was Mother's. She... she told me to keep it safe."
"She is dead, Nard!" Rrejy slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk, the teacups rattling. "And she died saving a family that you disgrace every single day. You have no magic. You cannot even activate the passive wards on the box. To leave a Tier 6 relic in your hands is an insult to her legacy. Ralph will carry it. He will make the Zaqor name shine again."
Ralph sneered, stepping forward to run a hand over the velvet box. "It fits me perfectly, don't you think, Nard? It's a shame you'll never feel the warmth of its mana. But don't worry, I'll think of you when I'm at the Academy."
"Give me the key to the vault, Nard," Rrejy commanded, stepping closer. The passive pressure of his Tier 4 light magic flared, a heavy, golden aura that pressed against Nard's chest like a physical weight, deliberately trying to force him to his knees. "I know Maria left you the key to her private sanctuary in the lower cellar. Hand it over."
"I... I don't have it, Father," Nard gasped, allowing his knees to buckle slightly under the Tier 4 pressure, his face flushed. "I lost it... in the ravine... years ago."
Rrejy let out a low, disgusted growl. Without warning, he backhanded Nard. The physical blow, reinforced by a microscopic pulse of light magic, sent Nard sprawling across the hard wood floor. His cheek burned, and a thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
"Useless," Rrejy spat, turning his back on his son. "Search his room, Ralph. If the key is not there, we will simply break the seal on the vault tomorrow. Get out of my sight, Nard. You are nothing but a stain on this floor."
Nard slowly pushed himself up, keeping his face turned away so they could not see the terrifying, absolute stillness in his eyes. He wiped the blood from his lip, bowed his head, and scrambled out of the room like a whipped dog.
But as the heavy oak doors shut behind him, the facade vanished. Nard's face turned into a mask of pure, freezing stone.
***
In the dead of night, the secluded cave was a chaotic tempest of white and green sparks.
Nard stood in the center of the dark cavern, his breathing ragged, his fists clenched as raw, unrefined torrents of his dual-nature magic lashed out, cracking the stone walls. His anger was a wildfire, threatening to consume the very pathways he had fought so hard to rebuild.
"Calm yourself, Nard!" Beru's voice boomed, his human form emerging from a flash of gold-tinted light. His amber eyes were stern, his hands folded across his chest. "You are letting your emotions dictate the flow of your mana. If you leak this energy now, the warding stones of the manor will scream your location!"
"They are taking her pendant, Beru!" Nard growled, his voice trembling with a rare, raw emotion. "They want to give her heart, her legacy, to Ralph. I will not let them touch it!"
"Then use that rage to forge the weapon that will stop them!" Beru stepped closer, his ancient, heavy aura descending upon the cave, instantly snuffing out the wild sparks like a blanket over a flame. "Anger is raw iron, Nard. It is heavy, clumsy, and easily broken. But if you temper it in the void, it becomes a blade that cuts through steel. Tonight, we begin the final phase of your Tier 3 training: the Void Siphon."
Nard wiped the sweat from his forehead, his eyes locking onto his mentor. "The Void Siphon?"
"Conventional mages defend by building shields of mana," Beru explained, raising his hand. A sphere of pale-gold energy materialized around his palm. "But a shield can be broken by a stronger force. A Weaver of the Void does not block; they erase. You must learn to expand your localized vacuum, turning it into a siphon that inhales your opponent's magic directly into the nothingness, converting their own attack into ambient energy to refuel your dual-core."
Beru's eyes flashed. "But if your focus wavers, if the boundary of your void collapses while absorbing their spell, their magic will detonate directly inside your mana pathways, tearing you apart from the inside. Do you have the spine to try?"
Nard took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. He thought of his mother's gentle grey eyes, Rrejy's heavy backhand, and Ralph's arrogant sneer.
"Cast," Nard said, his voice flat, cold, and absolute.
Beru smiled a grim, proud smile. "Very well. Brace yourself."
With a flick of his wrist, Beru channeled a concentrated, blazing bolt of Tier 3 gold-tinted energy, sending it hurtling straight toward Nard's chest. The air in the cave screeched under the friction.
Instead of dodging, Nard held out both hands.
He plunged his awareness deep into his heart, spinning his dual-nature Tier 2 core at a frantic pace. He pulled the ambient energy inward, forming a wide, warped pocket of absolute vacuum—a void—directly in front of his palms. He lined the boundaries with his emerald nature mana, reinforcing the walls to handle the sheer kinetic impact.
The golden bolt struck the void.
*Whirrrrr!*
An eerie, suffocating hum vibrated through the cavern. The gold energy didn't detonate; instead, it began to stretch and warp, spiraling like water down a drain as it was dragged into the absolute nothingness of Nard's siphon.
But the pressure was immense. Nard's arms trembled violently, his pathways screaming as the sheer volume of Beru's ancient magic threatened to shatter the emerald boundaries of his vacuum. Blood began to drip from Nard's nose, and the skin of his forearms cracked, faint trails of steam rising from his pores.
"Hold the boundary!" Beru barked, his voice echoing in his mind. "Do not let it leak! Force the void to swallow it!"
Nard ground his teeth, his vision blurring. He reached deeper, tapping into his mother's memory, channeling every ounce of his raw willpower into the spinning rings. He squeezed the vacuum tighter, compressing Beru's golden light until it was stripped of its structure, dissolving into pure, harmless ambient mana that washed over his pathways, refueled his dual-core, and vanished into the void.
The golden bolt was entirely gone.
Nard fell to one knee, gasping for air, sweat pouring down his face as the vacuum dissolved. But as he looked at his hands, a slow, dangerous smile stretched across his lips. His dual-core was humming with an even denser, more refined power than before. He had siphoned a Tier 3 spell into nothingness.
Beru walked over, placing a firm, warm hand on Nard's shoulder.
"Well done, Weaver," Beru whispered, his amber eyes glowing with a quiet triumph. "They think they are breaking your mother's seal tomorrow to steal her legacy. But they do not know that they are simply opening the gates for the storm."
Nard stood tall, his gaze turning toward the distant, dark silhouette of the Zaqor Manor.
"Let them try to open it," Nard whispered, his voice a cold, silent promise. "Tomorrow, the Zaqor family will realize that the hollow shell is finally empty—and the void is hungry."