Chapter 36: Lorian Dravenhart
"Hold on! Are you sure that's safe? It was hidden for a reason!" Owen protested, bouncing after him.
Axelius just chuckled, his fingers already brushing over the edges of the ancient cover. "Come on, Owen. Since when did I ever listen to 'safe'?" he replied with a smirk.
Axelius set the black book down on the polished oak table, its weight heavier than he expected. The golden linings shimmered faintly under the soft glow of the chandelier above, casting strange reflections onto the wood. Owen bounced up onto the table beside him,
Axelius brushed his fingers over the smooth surface once more, taking a deep breath before cracking it open. The leather binding groaned, as if it hadn't been touched in centuries. A puff of dust escaped, swirling around them before settling back onto the table. "Damn, how old is this thing?" Axelius murmured, wiping his eyes.
The first page was blank—yellowed with age, but untouched by ink. He flipped to the next, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Axelius raised an eyebrow. "A tale? Like a fairytale?" he said aloud, glancing at Owen.
Owen bounced slightly, "Maybe it's just some kind of family legend," he said, stretching to get a better view.
Axelius shrugged and turned the page, revealing the first line of text. He began reading aloud.
Long ago, under the shadow of a crimson moon, two heirs were born into the Dravenhart bloodline—an ancient family renowned for its mastery over mana and its deep ties to the Beast realm.
The firstborn was named Lorian Dravenhart, and his younger twin was called Lucian Dravenhart. From the moment they were born, it was clear that they were complete opposites. Lucian was a prodigy, his mana core blazing with power even as a child. By the time he was five, he was already summoning magical beasts—dragons with shining silver scales and phoenixes with wings of fire. His magic was strong and pure, his aura bright and warm. People called him the Radiant Star of Dravenhart, a symbol of hope and strength.
Lorian, however, was different. He was born without mana. His body rejected magic entirely, his veins empty of the power that his family cherished. While Lucian flew through the skies on summoned dragons, Lorian watched from the shadows, his hands clenched, his heart heavy with envy. His tutors tried everything to help him learn magic, but nothing worked. It was as if his very soul rejected mana. He was called a Dravenhart only by name, just a shadow next to his brother's bright light.
And so, the whispers began. The cursed child, people said. The shadow of the Dravenhart family. Even his own father, the Duke, would sigh heavily whenever Lorian entered the room. "If only you had been born like your brother..."