C9 the following days

The days following my test were a blur of heightened security and hushed conversations. I couldn't ignore the subtle shifts around me. Guards patrolled the palace halls more frequently, their eyes watchful and alert. My tutors, who once spoke with easy confidence, now approached me cautiously as though my presence might unsettle their world's delicate balance.

My father, King Aric, summoned me to his private study three days after the test. It was a rare event; he rarely broke from his duties to speak with me alone. The room was as I remembered it—grand yet intimate, with towering bookshelves and the scent of aged parchment hanging in the air. My father stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the golden glow of the setting sun.

"Come in, Vlad," he said without turning.

I stepped inside, the door closing softly behind me. He finally turned to face me, his piercing blue eyes—so much like my own—studying me with an intensity that made me squirm.

"You've made quite an impression, my son," he began, his voice measured. "The court mage's account of your test has reached even the furthest corners of the council. They are… concerned."

"Concerned?" I repeated, confusion knitting my brow. "About what?"

My father sighed, gesturing for me to sit. As I obeyed, he settled into the chair opposite mine, folding his hands on the desk between us. "Power, Vlad. Power always draws attention. Some will see it as a threat, others as an opportunity. Few will see it for what it truly is—a burden."

I didn't know how to respond. My father's gaze softened, and he leaned forward slightly. "You are my heir, Vlad. One day, you will rule this kingdom. But with the power you've shown, your path will be far more treacherous than mine. Some will try to control you, to use you for their own ends. And others will see your existence as a danger to the balance of the world."

His words struck a chord, and I recalled the court mage's warning. "The Archmage said my power might be unstable. That it could hurt people."

My father nodded, his expression grave. "That is why you must learn to control it. But more importantly, you must learn to trust yourself. Power doesn't define a ruler; wisdom does. And wisdom comes from understanding who you are and what you stand for."

I met his gaze, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders. "I don't know if I'm ready for this, Father."

He smiled faintly, reaching across the desk to rest a hand on mine. "No one ever is. But you have time, and you have us—your family, tutors, and people. We will help you, Vlad. You are not alone."

The reassurance in his voice gave me a glimmer of hope, but the doubt lingering in my heart refused to fade entirely.

That night, the dreams began again.

I stood on the edge of an endless ocean, the waves crashing against the shore with a deafening roar. The deep, inky black water reflected a sky filled with swirling storm clouds. A low and resonant voice echoed in the distance, calling my name.

"Vlad…"

I turned, searching for the source, but no one was there. The voice grew louder, the waves rising as if responding to its call. Then, the ground beneath me began to crumble, and I was falling—plunging into the dark, churning depths.

I woke with a start, my heart pounding and rushing water still echoing in my ears. The pendant around my neck glowed faintly, its sapphire core pulsing with a soft blue light.

I clutched it tightly, trying to steady my breathing. The dream felt so real, so vivid, as though it were more than just a figment of my imagination.

I couldn't shake the feeling that the ocean in my dream wasn't just a metaphor. It was a warning.