Chapter 3: The Lonely Child
The Von Schwarzenwald estate, once a bastion of power and influence, became an even colder place after the death of Lady Amara. The staff walked more quietly, the halls seemed darker, and the air within the towering walls felt heavier, as if her passing had drained the warmth from the very stones of the mansion. The patriarch, William von Schwarzenwald, grew even more distant and cruel. His children, Marcus and Seraphina, were driven harder than ever, their every action scrutinized under the weight of their father's expectations.
But no one suffered more than Elias.
The third child of the Von Schwarzenwald family had always been a source of discomfort, an unwelcome reminder of the night that had cost Lady Amara her life. His birth had been a tragedy, not a celebration, and from that day onward, he was treated as an anomaly in the house. Elias was ignored by his father, barely acknowledged by his siblings, and raised by servants who only followed their lord's orders because they feared the consequences of disobedience. To them, Elias was an afterthought, someone to be kept alive but never truly cared for.
---
Years passed, and Elias grew into a quiet, introspective child. He was small for his age, his frame thin and frail compared to the other children of noble families. His pale skin and dark, unruly hair gave him a ghostly appearance, as though he was only half-present in the world, a shadow of someone who might have been great if only things had been different. His eyes, a striking shade of silver, were perhaps his most unusual feature, but they held no spark of magic, no aura of power. To those around him, Elias was the very embodiment of failure.
He spent most of his days wandering the mansion's grand halls, his footsteps soft against the marble floors. There was little for him to do, for he had no tutors to guide him, no siblings to play with, and no one to teach him the ways of the world. While Marcus and Seraphina were trained rigorously in magic and combat, honing their abilities to live up to the Von Schwarzenwald name, Elias was left to his own devices. The few servants who were tasked with watching over him often abandoned him for more important duties, leaving him to drift through the vast estate in solitude.
The grand library was his only refuge. It was a massive room, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls that stretched from floor to ceiling. The scent of old parchment and leather filled the air, and the dim lighting created a sanctuary where Elias could escape from the emptiness of his life. He would sit for hours, curled up in one of the high-backed chairs, reading stories of great heroes, powerful sorcerers, and distant lands. In those pages, he could forget that he was a disappointment, a mistake that had cost his mother her life.
But even in the library, there was a reminder of his insignificance. The books he read were not chosen for him. They were leftovers, forgotten tomes that no one else cared about. His siblings had personal instructors who guided them through the most complex spells and battle techniques, but Elias had nothing. The magic of the Von Schwarzenwald family, which should have coursed through his veins, felt absent, leaving him hollow and powerless.
---
One particularly cold morning, when the frost clung to the windows and the fire in the hearth barely held back the chill, Elias found himself in the farthest corner of the library. It was a section of the room rarely visited, where dust gathered thick on the shelves and the light from the high windows struggled to reach. Here, hidden among the forgotten books, he discovered a small, tattered journal bound in worn leather.
The cover bore no title, and the pages were yellowed with age. Curious, Elias opened it and began to read. To his surprise, the journal was written by someone from his own family, someone who had lived generations before. It spoke of the early days of the Von Schwarzenwalds, long before they had risen to power, when the family was still a minor noble house struggling to survive.
The writer, a young man a few years older than Elias, described his frustrations with the family's obsession with power and bloodlines. He wrote about feeling inadequate, about being overshadowed by his siblings and overlooked by his parents. But there was something else in the journal, something that made Elias's heart race as he read further.
The writer had discovered a secret—a way to access magic even if one's bloodline was weak. It wasn't through the traditional means of study or inheritance, but through something far darker and more dangerous. The writer had begun experimenting with forbidden magic, delving into ancient rituals that could draw power from the very soul.
Elias's hands trembled as he turned the pages. The more he read, the more he felt a strange connection to the long-dead ancestor. Like Elias, the writer had been an outcast within the family, shunned for his perceived weakness. But unlike Elias, he had found a way to fight back, to seize power for himself. The rituals described in the journal were terrifying, involving the manipulation of one's own soul and the risk of eternal corruption. But they promised power—power that could rival even the strongest bloodlines.
For the first time in his life, Elias felt something stir within him. It wasn't the magic he had longed for, the kind that his siblings wielded with such ease. No, this was something darker, something far more dangerous. But it was also something real. It was a way out of the shadows, a way to prove to himself—and to his family—that he was more than just a disgrace.
---
Days passed, and Elias became consumed by the journal. He began to sneak out of the library late at night, finding hidden corners of the estate where he could practice the rituals described in the book. At first, nothing happened. The spells were difficult, the incantations in a language long forgotten, and Elias had no one to guide him. But he persisted, driven by a desperation that grew with each failure. He knew that if he could just unlock the power hidden within him, everything would change.
It was during one of these secretive nights, in the depths of the family crypt, that Elias finally felt something. He had been reciting one of the older incantations, his voice trembling in the darkness, when a cold wind swept through the room. The candles he had lit flickered and went out, plunging him into darkness. For a moment, fear gripped him, and he almost ran.
But then, in the blackness, he felt it—a pulse of energy, faint but undeniable. It coursed through him, starting in his chest and spreading outwards, like ice crawling through his veins. His heart raced, and for the first time, he felt alive. It wasn't like the magic he had read about in books. It wasn't warm or vibrant. It was cold, dark, and unsettling. But it was power.
Elias stood in the darkness, his breathing shallow, his hands trembling. He had done it. He had finally tapped into something beyond himself. It wasn't much, just a flicker of power, but it was enough to ignite a fire within him. He knew, in that moment, that he couldn't stop. He had to continue, to delve deeper into the forbidden magic. It was dangerous, yes, but it was the only way. If he didn't, he would remain nothing—a ghost in the halls of the Von Schwarzenwald estate, forgotten and unloved.
Unknown to him, he had failed to perform the ritual the pulse of energy was nothing but the life force of the creature used in the sacrifice.
---
As the days turned into weeks, Elias's secret practice became an obsession. He no longer wandered the halls aimlessly. Instead, he spent every waking moment either in the library, searching for more clues about his ancestor's dark magic, or in the crypt, practicing the rituals under the cover of night. His once timid demeanor began to change, replaced by a quiet determination. The servants noticed it too—the way his eyes seemed darker, the way he moved through the halls with purpose.
But no one questioned him. To them, Elias was still the forgotten child, the disgrace of the Von Schwarzenwald family. No one cared enough to wonder what he was doing or where he disappeared to at night. And so, Elias continued down his dark path, unnoticed by all.
Except one.
---
Seraphina von Schwarzenwald, the golden child, had always been aware of her younger brother's presence, even if she pretended not to be. She had watched him from afar, curious about his strange behavior, but had never intervened. After all, Elias was weak—hardly worth her time or attention. But recently, she had begun to notice something different about him. He moved with a confidence that hadn't been there before, his once pale face now holding a strange intensity.
One evening, as she practiced her wind magic in the courtyard, she saw him slip out of the mansion and head toward the family crypt. She frowned, her curiosity piqued. What could he possibly be doing there?
She decided to follow him.
And as she watched from the shadows, Seraphina realized that her brother was no longer just a lonely child. He was something far more dangerous.
---
Elias stood in the center of the crypt, his hands raised as he recited an incantation from the journal with a formation drawn on the floor with and few chicken eggs at the center. The air around him crackled with dark energy, and for a brief moment, he felt powerful. But it wasn't enough. He needed more—more time, more practice, more knowledge. The magic he sought was elusive, always just out of reach.
But he would get there.
He had to.
Because in the cold, empty halls of the Von Schwarzenwald estate, there was no place for the weak.
Elias paced back and forth in the family crypt, his breath quick and his heart racing. He had never felt so close to something—so close to tapping into the magic that had eluded him his entire life. His mind swirled with the words of the journal, the ancient incantations replaying over and over in his head.
He knelt on the cold stone floor, his fingers tracing the carved sigils in the ground as he prepared to begin the ritual again. But this time, he felt the weight of someone watching him. He turned, eyes scanning the shadows, but found no one. Shaking his head, he dismissed it as nerves. No one cares about me, he reminded himself. He was the forgotten son, invisible in his family.
With a deep breath, Elias began the incantation again, his voice trembling in the cold air.
"Let the shadows bend to my will, let the soul be unchained," he whispered. The words, though old and worn, seemed to vibrate with a power that called to him. The darkness around him thickened, the air growing colder as the ritual continued. He closed his eyes, feeling a pulse of energy stir within him—a small flicker, but enough to ignite a desperate hope.
As he spoke the final words, a gust of icy wind swept through the crypt, snuffing out the flickering candlelight. His eyes snapped open, and in the darkness, he saw it—a faint glow, barely visible, but undeniably there. It wasn't the warm, bright magic his siblings wielded, but it was real. He could feel it.
Elias's heart pounded in his chest as the sensation of power spread through him. But before he could revel in the moment, a voice cut through the silence.
"What are you doing here, Elias?"
His heart skipped a beat. He spun around to find Seraphina standing in the doorway of the crypt, her figure silhouetted against the pale moonlight from the courtyard.
---
Seraphina stepped forward, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed in suspicion. She was the pride of the Von Schwarzenwald family, with an aura of magic that radiated confidence and power. Her platinum blonde hair and ice-blue eyes made her look ethereal, almost untouchable—just as their father had intended. And here she was, staring down at him like a predator watching its prey.
"I asked you a question, Elias. What are you doing here?" she repeated, her tone sharp.
Elias felt his throat tighten. He hadn't expected anyone to find him, least of all his sister. He scrambled for an answer, but his mind was blank. How could he explain that he was dabbling in forbidden magic, the same kind their ancestors had been warned never to touch?
"I..." he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm just... reading."
"Reading?" Seraphina's eyes flicked to the book in his hands. "In the family crypt? In the middle of the night?" She took another step closer, her gaze lingering on the faded, ancient journal. "What's that?"
Elias instinctively held the journal to his chest, his fingers clutching the worn leather. "It's nothing."
Seraphina's eyes flashed with irritation. "Don't lie to me, Elias. You've been sneaking off here for weeks. I've seen you." She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "You're hiding something."
Elias felt the pressure building, the weight of her scrutiny pressing down on him. His hands trembled as he struggled to come up with an excuse, but before he could say anything, Seraphina's hand shot out. She grabbed the journal from him with a swift movement, too fast for him to react.
"Seraphina, wait—!" Elias protested, reaching for the book, but she held it out of his grasp.
She flipped through the pages, her eyebrows furrowing as she skimmed the text. After a moment, her expression darkened. "This... this is dark magic." Her voice was low, dangerous. "Where did you get this?"
"I found it," Elias admitted quietly, his voice shaking. "In the library."
Seraphina's lips pressed into a thin line. "This magic is forbidden for a reason, Elias. You could get yourself killed—or worse." She tossed the journal onto the cold stone floor with disgust. "You're playing with forces you don't understand."
Elias clenched his fists, anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. "You don't understand!" he snapped, his voice louder than he intended. "I don't have the luxury of being born with powerful magic like you and Marcus! I'm... I'm nothing compared to you two. Father doesn't even look at me. This—" he pointed to the journal, "this is the only way I can be something. I need this."
Seraphina stared at him for a long moment, her expression softening slightly. "Elias..." she began, but he cut her off.
"You have no idea what it's like," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "To be the forgotten one. The one no one cares about. I'm... I'm invisible to all of you. But if I can unlock this power, I won't be anymore. I'll be more than just the disgrace."
Seraphina sighed, her hand resting on the hilt of the sword she always carried at her side. "Power isn't everything, Elias. This magic... it's not the answer. You'll only lose yourself."
Elias shook his head. "I've already lost everything. What's left to lose?"
Seraphina hesitated, her blue eyes filled with a mix of concern and frustration. She wasn't used to seeing Elias like this—so desperate, so determined. For a moment, she considered dragging him back to the mansion, showing him the error of his ways. But something held her back. Perhaps it was the realization that, despite everything, Elias was still her brother. Or perhaps it was the same ambition that ran through all Von Schwarzenwald blood, the same hunger for power that had driven their family for generations.
"Fine," Seraphina said at last, her voice quieter now. "I won't tell Father about this. But you need to be careful. If he finds out, it won't just be me you'll have to answer to."
Elias exhaled in relief, though he knew her warning was serious. He nodded, grateful for her silence.
Seraphina turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "One last thing, Elias." She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze piercing. "Don't let this magic consume you. Our bloodline has enough darkness in it already."
With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Elias alone in the crypt once more.
---
Elias stood there, the journal at his feet, his mind racing. Seraphina's words echoed in his head, but they did little to dissuade him. He knew she was right—this magic was dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than he realized. But what other choice did he have? He couldn't go back to being the invisible child, the forgotten one. Not when he had come this far.
He picked up the journal, his hands steady now. He flipped through the pages again, his eyes scanning the words with renewed determination. He wouldn't stop. Not until he had unlocked the full potential of the magic within him. Not until he proved that he wasn't a disgrace to the Von Schwarzenwald name.
And so, with a heart full of ambition and a soul teetering on the edge of darkness, Elias began the incantation once more.
---
As Elias practiced deep in the crypt, Seraphina walked the silent halls of the mansion, her mind troubled. She had always thought of Elias as weak, a burden on the family. But tonight, she had seen something different—a fire in him that she hadn't noticed before. It was dangerous, yes, but also... intriguing.
For the first time, Seraphina wondered if Elias's fate was not sealed as the forgotten child. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could be something more.
But with the darkness he was chasing, the question remained: what would he become?