It had been twenty days since Voltair contacted Kael through the crystal.
No one in Frostpeak knew whom the Duke awaited. The servants noticed the subtle preparations--an empty chamber cleared and sealed, guards ordered to stay out of sight, the manor charged with quiet tension. Voltair himself hadn't slept much. He had told no one the reason.
Then, one morning, the air simply changed.
The clouds over Frostpeak were still, yet the atmosphere grew heavier, as if the world itself took a slow, measured breath. The snow outside seemed to fall more quietly. Voltair, seated in his study, knew instantly what it meant. He rose without a word and walked to the gates.
A lone figure approached through the manor's front gate.
The man's cloak was gray, the kind that blended too easily with the snow, and yet his presence distorted the space around him. Even the soldiers who didn't know who he was found their hands trembling. His steps were light, but every one seemed deliberate--like the world itself allowed him to walk where others couldn't.
Kael Ardyn had returned.
The years hadn't touched him the way they touched ordinary men. His face was leaner, his eyes sharper, and his expression as unreadable as Voltair remembered. When he reached the steps of the manor, the Duke inclined his head slightly--not out of courtesy, but out of respect.
"Kael," Voltair said quietly. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."
Kael's eyes flicked toward him. "Well, afterall it was you who called. And besides, I'm not a man who goes back on his word and you know it."
That was all. No greeting, no questions. He simply followed Voltair inside.
The manor's interior felt smaller with him in it. The corridors were empty, their silence stretching thin between every step. They passed through the hall, then down toward the sealed Healing Chamber.
Inside, Richard lay pale and still, his breathing shallow.
Kael stood just beyond the threshold, his gaze steady. "So this is the boy."
Voltair nodded once. "He's strong, but his core was shattered when he tried to exceed his limits. The healers say his body will take time to heal completely."
Kael didn't respond immediately. He stepped closer to Richard's bedside and looked down at him--not with sympathy, but with calculation. His presence wasn't comforting. It was the quiet weight of someone who had seen too many lives end to offer false hope.
When he finally spoke, his tone was calm, but there was something cold behind it.
"I warned you long ago, Voltair," he said. "The mind that reaches before it learns to stand will only destroy itself."
Voltair's jaw tightened. "Exactly."
Kael's eyes didn't move from Richard. "And that's why you called me. I see."
He reached out a hand, stopping just above Richard's chest--not touching, merely sensing. The faint blue of the boy's fractured core glowed weakly beneath his skin. Kael exhaled, almost inaudibly.
"His core is unstable, but alive," Kael murmured. "The damage runs deep. If he forces mana circulation again, his body will fail before his magic does."
"Then what can be done?" Voltair asked.
Kael lowered his hand and straightened. "Nothing that your healers would approve of."
Voltair's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
Kael turned toward him. "Meaning that if you want him to live as more than an invalid, he'll have to learn to survive without depending on magic --until his body can accept it again."
He looked back at Richard one last time, then walked toward the door.
"Keep him alive until he can stand. I'll return when the snows settle."
Voltair's expression darkened. "You're leaving again?"
Kael paused at the doorway, his silhouette framed by the dim light.
"I came because you asked. But if I am to train him, he must learn the first rule: power means nothing without patience."
He started walking. His last words hung in the air like frost.
"Tell him to be ready when I return. If he isn't, I won't waste my time."
The door closed softly behind him.
For a long time, Voltair stood alone in the silence, the faint hum of the mana seals the only sound. Then he looked back at his son: fragile, broken, but breathing--and exhaled heavily.
"Be ready, Richard," he murmured. "He's not a teacher you can afford to disappoint."
--
A month had passed since Kael Ardyn's return.
When he came back, it was without warning. The manor guards didn't even notice until they saw the Duke standing by the gates, waiting. The same heavy, silent air followed Kael as before, pressing against everyone's nerves. It was simply the weight of who he was..
He said nothing when Voltair greeted him, only gave a small nod before asking, "Is the boy ready?"
Voltair didn't answer immediately. "He's been walking again. Slowly. The healers say the core will take longer, but his body… it's holding. It's kinda miraculous."
Kael's eyes shifted to the horizon, to the endless white stretch of Frostpeak's outer plains. "Then he'll survive the rest."
That evening, Voltair called for his son.
Richard entered the study wearing a dark coat, the faint scars of recovery still visible beneath his collar. His eyes were clearer now --not full of fire like before, but calm, calculating. He stopped in front of the Duke and Kael, bowing briefly.
"You sent for me, Father?"
Voltair looked at him for a long time before speaking. "Kael will take you with him. You'll train under him, away from Frostpeak. You'll live and learn as he tells you, without question."
Richard blinked once, trying to read his father's expression. "For how long?"
"Until he says you're ready. One year, maybe two."
The words landed heavily, though Richard didn't show it. He glanced at Kael, who was standing quietly near the shelves, arms folded, gaze distant.
"And if I refuse?" Richard asked, his tone almost testing.
Voltair's lips curved faintly, though it wasn't a smile. "You won't."
Richard didn't argue. He understood too well what that meant.
Kael finally spoke. "We leave at dawn."
He turned and left the room without another word. Voltair didn't call him back.
The silence that followed was strange--not tense, but heavy in a different way. Father and son stood in the dim light of the study, neither willing to speak first.
Finally, Richard broke the quiet. "You trust him more than anyone, don't you?"
Voltair's eyes softened for a moment. "I trust him to make you someone I can be proud of."
That was all the farewell he gave.
---
Later that night, as the manor settled into silence, Richard stood on the balcony overlooking Frostpeak. The night sky was clear, the snow glowing faintly under the moonlight. The cold didn't bite as much anymore.
He turned when he heard footsteps.
Lucien appeared behind him, carrying a small travel satchel. His usual grin was missing. "You're really leaving?"
Richard nodded. "For a while."
Lucien shifted uneasily. "The Duke said it's for your own good. But…with that weird man?"
Richard didn't answer. Instead, he looked out into the snow again, his voice quiet. "There's something I need you to do for me while I'm gone."
Lucien frowned. "What is it, young master?"
Richard stepped closer, lowering his voice so even the wind couldn't carry it. He spoke for a long moment, a few sentences, no more, but whatever he said made Lucien's eyes widen.
"Young Master, that's… are you serious?" Lucien's tone cracked slightly, disbelief mixing with concern. "If anyone finds out--"
"They won't" Richard interrupted calmly.
Lucien hesitated, looking away, his hands tightening on the satchel strap. "You're asking for trouble."
"Maybe," Richard replied. "But it's necessary."
For a long moment, Lucien said nothing. Then, finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose. "…Fine. I'll do it."
Richard smiled, a tired, genuine smile that almost felt unfamiliar on his face. "Thank you."
The two stood there for a moment longer, neither speaking. When the wind picked up again, Lucien turned and left.
Richard stayed a little while after, his thoughts quiet, his heart strangely steady.
Tomorrow, he would leave Frostpeak behind.
There was fear there, somewhere deep inside him--but beneath it, something else had started to grow.
Resolve.
--
The next morning, before sunrise, the gates of Frostpeak opened.
A single carriage rolled out, cutting through the white horizon. Kael sat at the front beside the driver, silent as ever, his cloak pulled tightly around him. Inside, Richard sat alone, watching the manor disappear slowly into the mist.
He didn't look back.
Behind him, in the upper window of the keep, Voltair watched until the carriage vanished completely. He didn't speak. He only turned to the empty room and whispered under his breath, "Good luck, son."
Far below, in the servants' quarters, Lucien sat on his bed, his mind running through every word Richard had told him. He looked uneasy, guilty even.
"…You're insane, Young master!" he muttered softly. "But fine. I'll keep your secret."
He looked out the window, where the snow kept falling --quiet, endless, and blank.
Long after Richard left, Lucien stood up and straightened his coat, leaving the manor gates, his expression serious, steps heavy.
Whatever Richard had asked him to do.....it was already set in motion.
--