The Nameless Heir

Kael adjusted the academy jacket Orion gave him, tugging at the collar. The fabric was stiff, the embroidery too fancy, and the whole thing felt like it belonged to someone else. This didn’t feel right to him. It felt too fancy, as if he were still dreaming. Things were moving too fast. Kael didn’t know if he could keep up. Not too long ago, he was stealing and sleeping on the streets, making tents out of trash. And now, he had a home, a mother, and a great opportunity to make new friends.

Cyrus, his loyal shadow cat, stretched lazily on his bed, watching him with glowing silver eyes.

"Alright, buddy," Kael said, brushing a hand over his sleek black fur. "You know the drill. Stay in the shadows, keep a low profile."

Cyrus flicked his tail, clearly unimpressed. Then, like mist in the wind, he melted into the darkness. His silver eyes were the last thing Kael saw before disappearing, vanishing like a dying star.

Kael sighed, running a hand through his hair. First day of class. He felt excitement mix with fear.

"Just a school filled with students who are like him. Demi-gods," he mumbled to himself before walking out the door.

The halls of the academy were surprisingly grand, with high ceilings and chandeliers that seemed to float in the air, and the golden banners lined with ancient Olympian runes. Students moved in groups, chatting, their uniforms crisp and perfect. As Kael walked through the hall, the chatter suddenly stopped, and their eyes were all on him. Kael realized something was not right, so he looked toward them and waved, but it made them all back away. They all acted as if Kael was cursed and they might get infected.

With every step he took, the students moved away, giving him space to pass through. He attempted to ask where his class was, but they ran as soon as he got close to them.

Kael, confused, said, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you," but they were already gone. Loneliness crept up on him. The shadows around him slowly crawled up, like they were trying to say, "We are here, Kael."

Finally, he entered the classroom. The scent of parchment and polished marble filled the air.

The room was structured in five rows, three columns each, with two students per seat. The front row? Completely occupied by students who carried themselves like they owned the place. Their uniforms weren’t just worn—they were adjusted, tailored to perfection. Their posture? Perfect. Their entire existence radiated the quiet confidence of people who had never needed to fight for anything in their lives.