"Ok then, see you tomorrow!" Darian says to his bench mate as he stands up.
Darian didn't like being separated.
The assistant stopped outside a narrower corridor, far from the main lecture halls.
"This way," she said.
Darian followed.
The room was smaller than he expected. No rows of desks. Just one long table, two chairs, and a wide, curved wall of pale stone.
A man already sat at the table.
He was old, but not frail. His robes were simple, his posture straight. When he looked up, his eyes didn't linger on Darian's face—only on his expression, as if measuring something invisible.
"Sit," the man said.
Darian did.
"I am High Scholar Veyrin," the man continued. "You've been removed from standard instruction due to… gaps."
Darian nodded. "My memory."
"Yes," Veyrin said, without sympathy. "Specifically, geography and geopolitics. You lag behind your peers."
There was no accusation in his voice. Just fact.
Veyrin raised one hand.
The wall behind him shifted.
Light spread outward, not bright, but precise—thin lines forming borders, seas, landmasses. A map, but not like any Darian had seen. It wasn't drawn. It hovered, every line steady.
"A Hard-Think projection," Veyrin said. "Law-bound. Stable."
Darian leaned forward despite himself.
"The Human Nation," Veyrin continued, "is divided into Seven Human Kingdoms and Three Great Reaches."
He gestured, and sections of the map dimmed, others sharpening into focus.
"Five of the kingdoms allow all thirteen Pathways to exist within their borders," Veyrin said. "With restrictions."
Two regions glowed faintly.
"The Pilgrim Kingdom," he said, indicating the first.
"The Shade Kingdom," he said, indicating the second.
"There has been tension between these two for nearly fifty years," Veyrin went on. "Border disputes. Resource claims. Ideological incompatibility."
"Incompatibility?" Darian asked.
Veyrin glanced at him. "Faith and erasure rarely coexist peacefully."
The map shifted again.
"The conflict de-escalated when His Majesty Kaiden ascended as the Thirty-Third King of Shade," Veyrin said. "But peace is not the same as trust."
A thin line pulsed between the two kingdoms.
"No Pilgrim or Warden Pathway users may reside within Shade territory," Veyrin said. "Likewise, no Shade or Harbinger Pathway users are permitted within Pilgrim lands."
Darian frowned. "But…It's Pathways' choice of people. Not kingdoms."
Veyrin nodded once. "Correct."
"Then how do kingdoms form around them?"
"Bloodlines," Veyrin replied. "Preference, inheritance, probability."
He folded his hands. "Pathways choose individuals. Families choose repetition."
Darian absorbed that in silence.
"And only a small number awaken," he said slowly. "Right?"
"Less than one percent," Veyrin confirmed. "And almost all among the high nobility."
"Why?"
"Because of bloodlines," Veyrin said simply.
Darian hesitated. "What about commoners?"
"There are exceptions," Veyrin said. "They are… rare."
The map dimmed briefly, then changed.
Two vast landmasses appeared—scarred, broken, their edges uneven.
"The Ruined Continents," Veyrin said. "Three hundred years ago, all kingdoms were as isolated as Pilgrim and Shade are now."
"What changed?" Darian asked.
Veyrin's fingers tightened slightly on the table.
"The Dark Age of Rupture," he said. "Echoes peaked. Anomalies emerged. Borders stopped mattering."
He let that sit.
"All seven nations unified for one purpose," he continued. "Containment. Eradication. Control."
"They formed The Academy," Veyrin said. "Founded jointly. For research, invention, and supervision."
Darian looked at the glowing map again.
"…How do others know," he asked carefully, "what Pathway someone belongs to?"
Veyrin turned his gaze fully on him this time.
"There are Seers."
Darian opened his mouth—
"You don't need to understand them yet," Veyrin said calmly. "Awaken first. Survive. Then you'll learn."
The map faded. The wall returned to stone.
Veyrin stood.
"That will be all for today," he said. "Tomorrow, we'll discuss borders that shouldn't exist."
As Darian rose, a thought surfaced—quiet, insistent.
If Pathways were restricted…
If Seers could see them…
Then what happened to people who were born in the wrong place?
Veyrin watched him closely as he left, eyes thoughtful.
"Your physical training time."
The voice came from somewhere near the door.
Darian groaned and rolled onto his side, face pressing into silk pillows.
"Do me a favour," he muttered, eyes still closed. "Kill me instead."
There was a sharp intake of breath.
"Your Highness," the maid said immediately, "please don't joke like that. You know how much trouble I'd be in if someone overheard—"
"I'm joking," Darian said, sitting up slowly. His head throbbed. "Mostly."
She was already fussing, pulling curtains open just enough to let light in. "You shouldn't say things like that at all. If the steward hears, or the instructor, or—"
"Alright, alright," Darian interrupted, holding up a hand. "I get it. You're right. I'm terrible. Truly."
She narrowed her eyes. "Don't use that tone."
"What tone?"
"That one."
Darian smiled despite himself. "Yes, my goddess. Forgive me."
Her eyes widened in panic. "Don't—don't say that! If anyone thinks I encouraged that—"
He was already on his feet.
By the time he reached the training yard, the air was cool and sharp. His cousin was already there, stretching with irritating enthusiasm.
"You're late," the boy said without looking up.
"I'm not late," Darian replied. "You're just unreasonably devoted to training."
His cousin grinned. "Someone has to be. Especially since I'm responsible for training you."
Darian winced. "That still hurts to hear."
"It should," the boy said cheerfully. "Right now, you're weaker than Lara."
Darian froze.
Lara, who had just arrived at the edge of the yard carrying water, immediately looked away.
"Don't bring that up," she said quickly.
Darian exhaled. "You promised never to speak of that again."
His cousin laughed. "You lost fair and square."
"Once," Darian muttered.
Lara cleared her throat. "Twice."
He shot her a look.
She smiled, unapologetic
As both brother starts practicing.
-
"Big brother's wedding is next week," Lucian said between strikes. "How do you feel about meeting your new mother?"
Darian deflected the blow and stepped back. "A little nervous ," he replied.
Lucian grinned, unfazed by the answer. "They say it'll be massive. Almost every kingdom's sending representatives. Even the elves."
He swung again, faster this time. "A whole week of ceremonies. Can you imagine it? Nobles everywhere. Music. Duels. Politics."
Darian parried and let the momentum carry him into a counter. His movements were still rough, still a half-beat behind Lucian's—but improving.
"I guess," he said.
Lucian stared at him. "You're impossible. This is history in the making."
Darian didn't answer. He reset his stance and came at Lucian again.
From the outside, it probably looked like indifference. Like he was distracted, or simply uninterested.
But his grip tightened slightly around the practice weapon.
The wedding wasn't what mattered.
What mattered was that no one would tell him anything about his mother.
Not the servants. Not the scholars. Not even Kaiden— As if the subject had been sealed.
The silence surrounding her wasn't accidental; it was architectural. It had been built into the foundations of the palace, a deliberate void where a woman's name should have been.
That didn't feel like coincidence.
He had started noticing the gaps.
And now there would be guests.
Families. Bloodlines. People who remembered things.
The library was extensive—but it was curated. Certain records required permission.
A wedding like this, though?
It would draw everyone.
If there were relatives. Allies. Anyone who had known her—
they might attend.
Darian exhaled and struck harder.
Lucian barely blocked it, eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Oh? There it is."