The early morning sun cast long shadows across the Arnell estate. Nicholas stood in the training yard, his hands steady as he focused on his mana. The air around him shimmered, a faint glow emanating from the mark behind his heart. His movements were calculated, precise. He needed to train, to push himself past his limits.

  Another blast of magic struck the dummy in front of him, and it cracked under the force. Nicholas exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down his brow. His mana reserves were running low, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

  “You’re not just playing anymore,” a voice called from behind him.

  Nicholas turned. His father, Nathan, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes filled with quiet concern.

  “I have to be strong, Dad,” Nicholas said, his voice low but determined. “Next time, I won’t let anyone hurt Selas.”

  Nathan’s expression softened. “You did well, son. But strength isn't just magic. It’s your body, your mind, your instincts. You’ll need them all.”

  Nicholas frowned, his brows furrowing. “Dad, how many marks do you have?”

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Eight,” he said with a small, wistful smile. “But... I can’t use them like I used to.”

  Nicholas blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “I was poisoned, son. Someone hit me with a poison that reacts every time I use my mana. My body can’t handle the magic like it used to.”

  Nicholas's face fell. “That’s... why Mom fights more?”

  Nathan nodded, his gaze hardening. “And why I started using our family’s merchant ties. We’re looking for a way to fix this.”

  Nicholas looked down at his hands. “I’ll train in everything. Magic, swords... whatever it takes.”

  Nathan’s voice softened. “You’re already on the right path.”

  ********

  Inside the estate, Selas sat quietly on the balcony, swinging her legs over the edge. She wasn’t playing like the other children her age. Instead, her gaze was focused on the training yard, where Nicholas continued his relentless practice. Iris stood beside her, watching her daughter closely.

  “Why does Nicholas keep hitting that dummy?” Selas asked quietly, her head tilted to the side.

  Iris smiled and brushed a strand of Selas’s hair out of her face. “Because he wants to be strong enough to protect you.”

  Selas stared at her brother for a long moment. “I want to be strong, too.”

  Iris raised an eyebrow. “You will be, Selas. One day.”

  Selas’s eyes brightened slightly. “I want to have one.”

  “You will, I’ll guide you,” Iris said softly, giving her daughter a gentle smile. “And one day, it’ll glow brighter than all the others.”

  ********

  That evening, as night fell over the Arnell estate, Nathan and Iris stood in the sitting room, exchanging quiet words.

  “They’re recovering faster than I thought,” Iris said softly, her eyes distant as she glanced toward the training yard.

  “They’re kids. They bounce back quick,” Nathan replied with a wry smile. “But that determination... it’s not normal. Especially Nicholas.”

  Iris nodded. “He’s adapting like fire to a forge.”

  Nathan took a deep breath. “But we can’t leave them unguarded. Not again. No more slipping through the cracks.”

  Iris agreed. “Stricter schedules. Better defenses. And more discreet guards.”

  “We raise them strong... not sheltered,” Nathan said firmly.

  ********

  Two years passed quickly. Nicholas was now nine, his mana growing steadily as he trained day and night. He was no longer the child who ran from danger, he faced it head-on. His three mana marks glowed brightly behind his heart, and the faintest trace of a fourth mark was beginning to appear.

  He stood in the training yard, sweat dripping down his face as he focused. The pillar before him cracked under the force of his magic. He exhaled, dropping his stance and looking over at Alex, who stood nearby, watching.

  “Not bad, Nick,” Alex called out, a grin spreading across his face. “You cracked it! Thought it’d take you longer.”

  Nicholas wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and grinned back. “You just don’t wanna lose another loaf.”

  Alex laughed. “Bet I can hit it next.”

  Nicholas raised an eyebrow. “You’re on.”

  Alex had quickly become Nicholas’s training partner. Their bond had grown over the past two years as they pushed each other to improve, both physically and magically.

  Nicholas’s body ached, but the feeling was familiar. He was growing stronger.

  Inside the estate, Selas sat with her arms crossed, watching her brother and Alex train. She had started school again, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how Nicholas moved, how he focused. There was something about it that intrigued her.

  She gazed down at her own left leg, where her mana mark was now fully visible. Her mark had appeared a year ago, and though she wasn’t sure how to use it yet, she had started asking questions, lots of them.

  “You will be strong one day,” Iris said as she stood beside Selas, watching the two boys.

  Selas was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing the faint mark on her leg. “I want to learn... to fight. Like Nicholas.”

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  Iris smiled softly, brushing her daughter’s hair back from her face. “You will, Selas. Soon.”

  *********

  Elsewhere, across the sea in Vel’Hareth, Bartholomew paced before his uncle, a man cloaked in thick furs. His eyes were cold, calculating.

  “Everything is in place,” Bartholomew said, his voice tight with anticipation. “We just need to distract Iris. We can’t let her get in the way of our plans.”

  His uncle turned to the two Arcane Knights standing behind him. They were tall, their bodies lined with the faint glow of six mana marks each.

  “Can the two of you keep her busy?” Bartholomew asked.

  One of the knights nodded. “If we work together.”

  “Perfect.” Bartholomew’s grin widened. “We’ll return to Wintersong in one month. Then... the Arnells fall.”

  *****

  The morning air was crisp, the sun barely peeking over the hills beyond the Arnell estate. A low hum of magic buzzed in the yard, carried by Nicholas’s slow, rhythmic breathing. Sweat slicked his brow, but his posture was solid, feet grounded, core tightened, arms weaving controlled flames in the air. His mana mark, glowing faintly behind his heart, pulsed with every completed movement.

  Across from him, Iris stood with arms folded, her expression unreadable. "Again. With intent. You’re not controlling it, you’re pushing it. Don’t just force the spell, guide it."

  Nicholas grit his teeth and started again. This time, as he traced the motion for a compressed burst, he focused not on blasting power, but on shaping pressure. The dummy ahead exploded with a crack, not from raw force, but from the spell compacting inward before release.

  Iris nodded. "Better. But you’ll need more than magic. Your body isn’t keeping pace."

  Without warning, she stepped forward and swept his legs. Nicholas stumbled, caught himself, and ducked under her follow-up strike. They traded brief blows with magic-infused punches, redirected energy, and calculated dodges. He managed to catch her wrist in a maneuver she’d taught him weeks ago.

  She broke free easily. "You’re learning. Remember what your father and I taught you. Always expect variables in all situations and use them to your advantage, never get cocky and be alert for any changes in a battle. Go wash up and rest for the day."

  Iris walked away with a small grin.

  *********

  The estate was quiet that night, but Nicholas was restless. He stepped into the practice yard under the moonlight, hands trembling as he tried to generate a large-scale barrier.

  His mana buckled halfway through, and pain lanced through his chest. He dropped to a knee, breath hitching, the magic unraveling in sparks. He focused and started to draw more mana in. He felt like he was close to his limit, but he didn’t stop, a deeper pulse surged through him. Like a spark in dry tinder, his mana ignited from within.

  Behind his heart, the glow intensified. A fourth mark, thin and silver-blue, flared into existence.

  He didn’t celebrate. He stood in silence, panting, and smiled quietly to himself.

  ********

  Class buzzed with tension. The mana evaluation day was infamous, each student had to demonstrate core magic skills and control. Many students were called. Some failed, but the majority passed. Most of the younger students were around 8 years old and the oldest ones were 10 years old. Almost all of them had two marks with a few of the oldest having 3.

  Alex was called before Nicholas. He extended his left arm, pointed two fingers at a wooden training dummy and shouted “Bolt.” A bolt of lightning left his fingers and pierced the dummy. The student’s eyes were drawn to the three glowing marks on his left hand.

  Alex became the focus of the students' praise and admiration after his display.

  The head instructor, Master Rivan complimented Alex, “Good work, you are one of the best among your peers.”

  Alex, with a smug smile, walked to Nicholas. “Wait till they see what you’re gonna do.” He chuckled.

  The mana evaluation continued.

  When his name was called, Nicholas stepped forward calmly. Channeled his mark and spoke the words “Defense” a containment sphere appeared, he then held it for ten full seconds, then manipulated it into a rotating defensive lattice.

  Gasps followed. Even the older students paused.

  Master Rivan adjusted his glasses. "Nicholas Arnell. Amazing, how many marks do you have now?"

  "The fourth appeared last night," Nicholas said.

  The room was filled with silence. Voices from the onlookers could be heard.

  “Four mana marks? He’s only 9 years old.”

  “I heard the world record was 10 years old, well I guess not anymore.”

  Rivan nodded slowly. "You’ve accelerated beyond your age. You should consider applying to Virelan Academy."

  Nicholas bowed his head. "Thank you, sir."

  *****

  Back at the estate, Selas trained with Nathan beneath the shade of a withering tree. Her movements were lighter than Nicholas’s, but more agile, she spun with controlled grace.

  Nathan corrected her stance, adjusting her foot slightly. "Good. Again."

  Nathan looked at Selas’s mark, the second mark had almost fully appeared.

  “Focus on absorbing the mana from around us. Draw it in, and visualize a spell or action that comes to your mind. Then utter the word that feels most right to you.”

  She followed her father’s instruction and when she opened her eyes she spoke “flame whip.” A whip of fire thrashed at the training dummy. Two glowing marks on her left leg flared.

  Nathan smiled. "There it is. Your second mark."

  Selas blinked, then grinned. "I did it!"

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You’re starting to walk your path."

  *****

  Nicholas walked home from school with Alex, his closest friend. They joked, lightly sparred with sticks, but Nicholas kept noticing the strange flickers near buildings, like mana had been used.

  That night, an explosion rocked the edge of Wintersong. An old Faraday warehouse erupted in flames, but the city guards dismissed it quickly.

  "Just a failed experiment," they told the press.

  But Iris narrowed her eyes as she read the news. "This seems suspicious."

  *****

  In the outskirts of Wintersong, Bartholomew knelt before his uncle, leaves swirling around them.

  "We will strike soon," he said.

  His uncle turned to the two knights standing nearby, each glowing with six distinct mana marks, one on the neck, the other on the left shoulder.

  "Cause enough disruption to draw her out," Bartholomew continued. "But no direct confrontation yet."

  One knight nodded. "A storm in Vorn’s Gate. A tremor in the west."

  Bartholomew smiled. "And when she runs to put out the fires, we hit them where it hurts. The Arnell’s will never see it coming."

  **********

  The flickering light of the fireplace bathed the Arnell sitting room in warm golds and oranges. Iris leaned against the windowsill, her gaze distant as she looked out into the darkened courtyard where Nicholas and Selas had trained earlier that day.

  Nathan stepped into the room, a quiet presence at her side. He placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

  “You’re thinking again,” he said softly.

  “I always think,” Iris murmured. “Especially when it’s too quiet.”

  Nathan chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “We’ve had a couple peaceful years. Maybe we're finally allowed some calm.”

  Iris didn’t answer right away. Her arms folded, fingers tightening ever so slightly. “Calm can be dangerous too. Makes people soft. Makes us soft.”

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You think something’s coming?”

  “I don’t know.” Iris’s voice was tight. “But someone like Bartholomew doesn’t disappear. Not without reason.”

  Nathan nodded grimly. “We’ve kept an eye on all his stores and buildings. No retaliation, no signs of movement. If he’s planning something, he’s being smart about it.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Iris said. “It’s not like the Faraday’s to wait. I’ve heard of what they’ve done to other companies in Vel’Hareth. They tend to play dirty and when it doesn’t work out the first time, they go to the extreme.”

  Nathan glanced toward the corridor, where faint laughter echoed from the children’s rooms. “We stay alert. We keep training them. And we don’t let our guard down.”

  Iris nodded once, firmly. “Whatever he’s planning, it’s not going to work.”