The winds howled through the towering spires of Aldenheim, a kingdom renowned for its grand magic and the legends it birthed. The night sky shimmered with the glow of floating lanterns, but for Eryx Veldan, the world had never felt darker.

  He stood in the heart of a ruined temple, its once-glorious marble walls now crumbling under time’s cruel hand. His hands trembled as he traced the cracked stone floor, where ancient runes pulsed faintly beneath his fingertips.

  “Magic runs through your veins, my son,” his father’s voice echoed in his mind. “But power alone is nothing without control.”

  Eryx clenched his fists. Those words haunted him, a cruel reminder of his failures. Born as the son of a master mage, expectations had crushed him from the moment he first held a spellbook. Yet, no matter how much he trained, he remained weak—his spells unstable, his mana reserves pitiful.

  Tonight, however, that would change.

  A flickering blue flame hovered in his palm, unstable, crackling. He had spent months studying forbidden texts, searching for a way to surpass his limitations. His research led him here—to the ruins of the Temple of Evernight, where an ancient artifact was said to hold the power to awaken a mage’s true potential.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Eryx turned to see Celica Dawncrest, his childhood friend and greatest skeptic. Arms crossed, emerald eyes sharp with suspicion, she was the only one who never sugarcoated the truth for him. “You’ve been reckless before, but this? This is insane.”

  “I don’t have a choice, Cel,” Eryx muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I don’t find a way to get stronger... I’ll never be able to take back what was stolen from me.”

  Celica’s expression softened, if only slightly. She knew what he meant. Everyone did. The whispers of the past still haunted him—his mother’s soul, stolen by a mythical entity that none dared to name.

  “I won’t let you die, idiot,” she sighed, drawing her blade. “So let’s get this over with.”

  A smirk tugged at the corner of Eryx’s lips. She would never admit it, but she always had his back.

  The runes on the floor flared to life as Eryx placed his palm at the center. A pulse of energy surged through him, burning, unraveling something deep within his core. The pain was unbearable, like his very soul was being torn apart. Visions flooded his mind—of ancient beings, of forgotten gods, of a world far beyond mortal comprehension.

  And then, the whisper came.

  “Forsaken one… do you seek power?”

  Eryx gasped, his knees buckling. “Who… who are you?”

  “Power comes at a cost. Are you willing to pay the price?”

  The presence loomed over him, unseen but suffocating. He saw a glimpse of something beyond the veil of reality—a force unlike anything he had ever imagined.

  Celica’s voice barely reached him through the chaos. “Eryx! Stop this! Something’s wrong!”

  But it was too late.

  The temple exploded in a blinding flash of light, and in that moment, Eryx Veldan ceased to be the weakling he once was.

  End of Chapter 1