The memory of that lightning strike haunted Axel for days. His father's cruelty replayed in his mind - the power, the arrogance, the hatred.
But something inside him burned stronger than fear.
"I'll protect her," he muttered.
He unfolded the letter his father had given him.
> Dear Axel,
Congratulations on your admission into Syriah. You should be proud - only top talents make it.
You will discover your element upon arrival.
All uniforms, books, and materials will be provided.
You resume in three weeks.
Yours faithfully,
Allan McGregor
Headmaster
He folded the paper again, determination flickering in his eyes. Three weeks. Three weeks to prepare.
---
Meanwhile, far away...
"Harder!" Cyphos barked.
"I'm doing my best, Father!" cried an eleven-year-old boy - Irys.
"Your best? You're off to Syriah soon, and this is your best?" Cyphos snapped.
"Cyphos, enough," said a woman entering the courtyard. "You'll break him."
"Marita," Cyphos sighed.
"Go inside, Irys," she said gently.
"Yes, Mother," the boy replied, disappearing into the house.
"You're spoiling him," Cyphos muttered.
"You're the one trying to spoil his body ." Marita shot back. "He's our only son. Maybe you'd understand if you hadn't fathered that... other boy."
"It was a mistake," Cyphos said, his voice low. "A moment of weakness. Lust - nothing more. And I don't count that bastard as my child."
Marita crossed her arms. "Yet I hear that bastard has also been admitted to Syriah."
"Yes," Cyphos said bitterly. "That's why I'm pushing Irys harder. He must not lose to that boy."
"Only time will tell, Cyphos," Marita said quietly. "Only time will tell."