The lanterns at the front of the classroom flickered and went out. A moment later, they reignited with a soft purple glow, signaling the official end of the class. A wave of relief swept through the room. The weekend had arrived.

  “Now, now, children,” the teacher said. “I know you’re excited about the weekend, and that your practical classes will begin again next week. However, I expect an essay on what we have studied about the Great War era. At least two thousand words.”

  Groans immediately filled the classroom.

  “Anyone who fails to submit it will not only receive a zero,” he continued calmly. “You will be required to write it again, and you will not be allowed to participate in any practical classes until it is completed.”

  That earned a few nervous looks.

  “Now go,” he said, waving them off. “Have a nice weekend.”

  Several students complained loudly about losing hours of their precious free time. Cassian, however, did not seem bothered. He gathered his things carefully and made his way out of the classroom. This was the perfect opportunity.

  Priscilla would go straight home to finish the essay as quickly as possible. Jurgen would never waste his weekend staying inside the academy. That meant the training grounds would be empty.

  The special training grounds. One of the benefits granted to top students at Draíochta Acadamh. Normally, even second-year students were forbidden from practicing magic freely. Inside those grounds, however, Cassian could attempt spells without supervision. Only the top five students of the first year were allowed access.

  The academy offered many such privileges as incentives to excel, though that was easier said than done. Draíochta Acadamh housed the most brilliant minds in the capital and beyond. It was no coincidence that the academy occupied the first twenty floors of the Tower of Wisdom itself.

  Cassian pushed open the door to the training grounds. Inside, he selected a small wooden sword made from enchanted wood. He could have chosen a wand, or even used his bare hands, but the sword felt more comfortable in his grip. He took a deep breath.

  For a moment, he considered which spell to attempt first. He settled on a fireball, one of the simplest spells in magic. All it required was transforming mana into flame. Cassian visualized the mana flowing out from his body, shaping itself as it gathered, turning into fire. The spell was simple enough that he could have cast it without words, merely by pointing his sword. Still, he chose to chant, tracing a circle in the air to give his mana time to accumulate and focus.

  When the circle was complete, he shouted, “Fireball!”

  From the tip of his sword emerged a small ball of flame, no larger than a pebble. It traveled only halfway to the target before sputtering out and vanished. Cassian dropped to his knees. Devastated, he stared at the empty space where the spell had failed.

  “I am a fraud,” he whispered.

  It was true.

  Despite being a Viamnova, Cassian’s spells were weak. Pathetic, even. No matter what he tried, no matter how much he trained, they never improved. He could not understand what had gone wrong, or why it had happened to him. Everyone expected greatness from him. If they found out the truth, it would be over.

  Cassian the Hopeless.

  Cassian the Worthless.

  Cassian the False Viamnova.

  Those were the names waiting for him. There was no hiding this, not forever. He was honestly surprised he had made it this far. How he had remained at the top of the class was a mystery to him. Well… not entirely. At the beginning of the first year, the teachers had tested every student’s magical aptitude. They had him cast spell after spell. Cassian was the only one who could perform every elemental spell.

  None of them were powerful. In fact, they were no stronger than the fireball he had just failed to cast. But no one else in the class could wield all the elements. Their spell strength was comparable to his, so the teachers had been impressed. The truth was simpler. Cassian had practiced for years. His father had trained him relentlessly. He was good at visualizing spells. He understood the theory. He knew the shapes, the flows, the intent. What he could not do was make them stronger.

  He had not improved. Not even a little. Most of the first year had been theory-based, and there Cassian excelled. He studied obsessively, earning top marks. But during the final month, when practical lessons began, the difference became obvious. His classmates’ spells grew stronger with every session.

  His did not.

  They still called him impressive for mastering every element. What they did not know was that this was not talent. It was repetition. And repetition alone was no longer enough. Somehow, his teachers failed to notice his stagnation. During his final exam, he performed every elemental spell again. They awarded him a perfect score. A ten he did not deserve. It had to be the name Viamnova. There was no other explanation.

  But now, things would change. Second year meant practical classes. And practical classes meant duels.

  The academy encouraged competition. Students could challenge one another openly. Winning duels raised grades. Losing lowered them. More than that, it created a hierarchy. Stronger sorcerers rose. Weaker ones fell. Power meant worth.

  Cassian knew exactly where he would end up. He could keep his calm, distant act for a while. He could pretend not to hear the whispers. But all it would take was one challenge. One duel. One public humiliation. Then it would all fall apart.

  “Oh, so all this time he was pretending,” they would say. “Acting superior. Acting like he couldn’t even hear us talk about his family.”

  Of course he heard them.

  He had only pretended not to.

  I just pretend not to listen, Cassian thought bitterly. Didn’t want to hear you talk about all the ancestors I’m going to disappoint.

  There was no escape. There was nothing he could do. Time was running out, and his chest began to feel heavy, as if something were pressing down on him. His breathing grew shallow and uneven. His vision blurred, narrowing until everything felt distant and unfocused. Still on his knees, Cassian clutched at his chest.

  Then he heard the click of the door.

  The change was immediate.

  His breathing steadied. He pushed himself to his feet, straightened his posture, and fixed his steely gaze forward just as a girl entered the room.

  “Oh,” she said softly. “I thought no one would be here.”

  She had plain brown hair and brown eyes, dark like polished wood. Realizing she had interrupted him, she stiffened and looked away, her cheeks flushing.

  “I decided to do some training,” Cassian said evenly.

  “I-I see,” she replied. “I can come back later if you want.”

  “No, please,” he said quickly. “I was actually about to take a break. You can train.”

  She smiled at him, a nervous smile that revealed a small gap between her front teeth. Cassian found, to his surprise, that it had its own charm.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Don’t take a break,” she said. “We can train together. Well, not together exactly. I can take that lane, and you can take this one, and then we can…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  Cassian’s stomach tightened.

  “No,” he said. “I think I should probably leave and work on the essay.”

  “Oh. You must have barely started,” she said quickly. “It’s fine, I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

  “Sabrina, don’t be silly,” Cassian said before he could stop himself. “Stay. I insist.”

  She froze.

  “Y-you know my name?”

  Cassian blinked, confused.

  “You’re the fifth best student in our class,” he said. “It would be strange if I didn’t.”

  She hesitated. “Yeah, but… I’m from a minor house. I thought…”

  She didn’t finish the sentence.

  That I was just another arrogant heir from a major house. That I’d look down on you. Cassian thought. Oh, how you will laugh and rejoice when I fall.

  “The academy isn’t that kind of place,” he said aloud. “If you have talent, it will be recognized here. Especially by me.”

  That made her blush again.

  It wasn’t a lie. Aside the top five, Cassian knew every student in the top twenty. He knew their names, their families, whether they were common-born or noble. He knew which spells they excelled at, and which ones they struggled with. And he knew something else too.

  Every single one of them was better than him.

  There was no point in staying. He could not do anything in front of Sabrina. So, Cassian decided to stop playing the part and leave.

  “Have a good training session,” he said, already walking toward the door.

  Sabrina was still caught off guard by the fact that he knew her name. Cassian thought he might manage a clean escape. But just as his hand touched the door handle, she spoke again.

  “I know what you’re hiding.”

  Cassian froze.

  Fear locked his body in place. Every muscle tensed, his heart hammering in his chest.

  “You won’t let anyone see what you can really do,” she continued, “not until after the special quest.”

  Cassian let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The special quest.

  He hadn’t worried much about it. Second-year students were rarely chosen. The academy preferred experience over potential. Even if he were selected, he would be paired with older students. He could rely on them. He wouldn’t stand out. But Sabrina had just given him an excuse to not want to train with her, he had to be mindful; he didn’t want people to start rumors about him not wanting to be seen using magic.

  “You figured me out,” Cassian said, without turning around. He hoped that would be enough to end the conversation.

  “I knew it,” she said, admiration lighting her face. “You’re aiming to win it. Just like your cousin did.”

  His stomach twisted.

  Of course. His cousin.

  It wasn’t enough that he was a disappointment to the Viamnovas of the past. He also had to fall short of the ones still living.

  Cassian had two cousins enrolled at the academy.

  The older one was Siegfried Viamnova, the second-youngest person ever chosen for a special quest and successfully complete it. He had been only twelve years old. Despite that, he had taken the role of a knight and performed brilliantly.

  Then there was Athena. She had not yet been selected for a special quest yet, but everyone knew she was a genius. Her magical talent was often compared to that of the current Sorcerer Supreme at her age. Cassian forced himself to stop thinking. The legends of past Viamnovas made him feel sick. Thinking about his cousins made his chest ache even more.

  He felt the pressure rising behind his eyes.

  No.

  He couldn’t cry.

  He wasn’t a child anymore. He was ten years old. And he definitely couldn’t do this in front of a girl.

  You need to leave. Now.

  “Yeah,” Cassian said. His voice came out rough and unsteady. “Maybe. But I still need to be selected first, so I might not even get the chance.”

  He forced a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “I have to go now.”

  Before she could reply, he left the training grounds.

  Once he was sure he was out of her sight, he broke into a sprint. By the time he passed through the academy gates, it had turned into a full run.

  He knew he should slow down. If he didn’t, shopkeepers would notice him, and people around the academy knew who he was. He didn’t live far. But if he slowed down someone would try to talk to him.

  He couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want anyone to see him. He felt dirty. Inferior.

  He had been lying to them. Lying to everyone. His classmates. His teachers. The academy.

  His entire life.

  And soon, very soon, they were going to find out.

  So he ran, and ran, until he reached home. The massive gated mansion of the Viamnova family rose before him. Emeraldhold, it was called, named for the enormous emerald statue of Leonard Viamnova that stood near the entrance. This was the seat of the main branch of the family. His cousins lived further down the road, in a lesser estate known as Rubyhold.

  As Cassian approached, the gates opened on their own, recognizing him. He passed beneath the watchful gaze of Leonard’s statue, its emerald eyes gleaming faintly in the evening light.

  The front doors opened as he reached them.

  Inside, the head butler bowed deeply. “Master Cassian, welcome home. How was your day at the academy?”

  “It was fine,” Cassian replied quickly. “Are Mother and Father waiting for me for dinner?”

  “No, Master Cassian,” the butler said. “They were unable to send a message, it being so abrupt, but they departed on a quest earlier today.”

  Both of them?

  “Did they really need that much firepower?” Cassian asked quietly. “Whatever they’re dealing with must be serious.”

  “Yes,” the butler replied. “It seems tensions are rising near fairy territory. They were requested to resolve several grievances.”

  “Another diplomatic mess,” Cassian muttered. “When aren’t there a mountain of grievances between us and the fairies?”

  “You are quite right, young master,” the butler chuckled. “Would you like me to have dinner prepared?”

  “No,” Cassian said. “I’m going to the training grounds.”

  If he had known his parents wouldn’t be home, he would never have bothered training at the academy at all.

  “Tell the staff not to disturb me,” he added. “And to not come looking for me. I want no interruptions. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master Cassian,” the butler replied.

  He didn’t waste any time. Handing his belongings to the butler, Cassian made his way toward the training grounds through the rear entrance of the mansion. He passed the gardeners without a word and crossed into the secluded area reserved for the Viamnova family alone.

  The training grounds were housed within a small, carefully structured hall made entirely of crystal. Its walls rose in smooth, angular facets that caught and bent the light into pale rainbows. The floor was etched with faint arcane circles, worn smooth by centuries of use. The air inside always felt still, heavy with dormant magic.

  Cassian opened the door and closed it behind him.

  From the inside, the crystal walls were perfectly clear. From the outside, they would soon turn opaque, sealing the room from view. No one would see what he did here.

  He selected another enchanted wooden sword and tightened his grip.

  This time, he thought. This time it will be different. I won’t stop until I improve.

  And so, Cassian trained.

  He cast every spell he knew, dozens, then hundreds of times. Fireballs. Bursts of wind. Bolts of lightning. He attempted levitation, altered size and weight, shifted colors. He tried to transmute water into other liquids, forced flowers to bloom from bare soil, and reshaping energy again and again.

  He did not rest.

  His grip tightened until splinters dug into his palms, drawing blood. His arms trembled. His focus burned.

  And yet, when he finally stopped, the truth was unavoidable.

  Nothing had changed.

  Cassian bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. He had achieved nothing. He might as well have stayed in his room for all the good this had done. Worst of all, he wasn’t even tired. Not the way he should have been.

  Yes, he needed sleep. His eyes burned and his vision blurred. But he had been casting magic all night and well into the morning. His mana should have been gone. His body should have ached. He should have been on the verge of collapse.

  Instead, he felt… normal.

  It was as if his body itself were mocking him.

  Oh, it seemed to say. You’re finally done pretending to try? Because I feel just fine. Maybe one day you’ll actually push yourself.

  The frustration boiled over.

  Cassian grabbed the sword again, intending to continue, to force something to change. But his vision swam, his eyelids growing unbearably heavy.

  No matter how much he hated it, he needed sleep.

  Cassian left the training grounds quietly. As he passed through the gardens, he was spotted by one of the mansion’s gardeners.

  “Master Cassian? Where did you come from?”

  Cassian waved him off without stopping and continued on his way. He hadn’t gone far before two maids approached him from the path ahead.

  “Master Cassian,” one of them said. “We’ve been waiting for you. The head butler, Timothy, told us you would be coming.”

  Did he now? Cassian wondered. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “We’ve been preparing since early this morning,” the maid continued. “He thought you might want to eat something, so we made your favorite. Truffle-infused cheese soufflé.”

  “No, thank you,” Cassian said. “I’m going straight to bed.”

  “Very well, Master Cassian,” the other maid said. “We have a bath prepared for you.”

  “No bath,” Cassian replied. “Bed.”

  The maids hesitated.

  “I’m sorry, young master,” one said carefully, “but the head butler insists. He said it would not be proper for a Viamnova to rest while covered in filth.”

  Cassian sighed.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll take the bath.”

  As they turned to leave, the maids whispered briefly to one another, thinking he was out of earshot. Cassian caught their words as he passed.

  “No, seriously,” one said. “Where was the young master all this time? I’ve been here all morning.”

  “He was training,” the other replied. “Apparently without stopping.”

  “All night and all day?” the first whispered. “That’s incredible.”

  “Yes,” the second agreed softly. “He truly is worthy of the name Viamnova.”

  Those words stayed with him.

  They followed him through the steam of the bath, through the quiet halls of Emeraldhold, and into his bed. As Cassian lay staring at the ceiling, exhaustion finally pulling him under, the phrase echoed again and again in his mind.

  Worthy of the name.

  Worthy of the name.

  And even as sleep claimed him, the words did not fade.