5: The Weight of Power

The Burden of an Unstable Core (Several Days Later)

I could still feel it.

A restless, chaotic pulse deep within my being—wild, unrefined, and barely contained.

The raven had fulfilled its promise. My once-scattered mana, which had threatened to tear me apart, was now bound within a core. But it was far from stable.

Each breath sent ripples through my body, the mana within surging and receding like tides in a storm. My veins still ached, my body still protested, but at least the pain was no longer unbearable.

It was a temporary fix. A dam holding back a flood.

"It won't hold forever." The raven's voice echoed in my mind, a constant, lingering presence. "You'll need to refine it further. Compress it. Control it. Or it will consume you."

Easier said than done.

I was an infant. My body was weak. My hands trembled even when trying to grasp my caretaker's fingers, let alone manipulate something as volatile as mana.

But there was no choice.

If I did nothing, my core would eventually collapse, and the illness—Mana Overload Syndrome—would claim me before I even had a chance to live.

"Circles," I thought.

I had to create mana circles—pathways that would stabilize and direct the flow of power. It was the natural next step, one all mages took. The difference was, for me, it wasn't a matter of progression.

It was survival.

---

A Protector's Growing Worry (One Week Later)

"You're quiet today."

A soft voice. Gentle hands adjusting my blanket. The warmth of familiarity.

My caretaker.

She had always been attentive, but lately, something had changed. Her watchfulness had deepened into something more.

Concern.

She stayed by my side longer than before, her sharp eyes scanning my every movement. I could feel it in the way she held me, how she frowned whenever my tiny body tensed in discomfort.

She knew.

She didn't know the full extent—no one did—but she knew something was wrong.

"You're not like other children," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your presence… it's too heavy."

Her fingers brushed against my forehead, smoothing down my white-silver hair.

"You sleep too little. You're too aware. And sometimes…" A pause. A hesitation. "…You shiver, even when it's warm."

I remained silent, my crimson eyes meeting hers.

For a moment, her gaze softened, a quiet sorrow flickering beneath her usual composure.

"If only I could protect you from whatever burdens you," she whispered.

The words settled deep within me.

She already did.

More than anyone, she had been the one by my side. Not out of duty, not out of obligation, but because she wanted to.

And though I couldn't tell her the truth, I could acknowledge that.

So I closed my eyes and let her presence ground me, if only for a moment.

---

The Heir's Banquet Approaches (Two Weeks Later)

"Are the preparations complete?"

A deep voice. Firm. Unyielding.

Father.

I lay still in my crib, eyes half-lidded, listening.

"Most of the arrangements have been finalized," Mother's voice answered smoothly. "The invitations have been sent. The ceremony will proceed as planned."

A brief silence. Then—

"And the child?"

I felt my mother's gaze flicker toward me, even without seeing it.

"He's strong." A hint of pride in her tone. "But… there is something unusual about him."

Father exhaled, the sound heavy. "I know."

Another pause.

Mother's voice was softer this time. "You noticed it too?"

Father didn't answer immediately.

"I've watched him," he admitted. "His presence… it's different. More than it should be. The servants feel it. Even the knights hesitate when they're near him."

Mother's fingers brushed against my blanket. "And yet, he's still so small."

"Small," Father repeated, "but dangerous."

A quiet weight settled between them.

Mother sighed. "Regardless, the ceremony must go on. He is the heir to House Ravenshade."

Father didn't respond, but I could sense his agreement in the silence that followed.

The heir's banquet.

A grand gathering, meant to introduce me to the world. Nobles, mages, warriors—they would all be in attendance. It would be the first time the world laid its eyes upon me.

And if my condition was noticed…

I clenched my tiny fists beneath the blankets.

I had to be ready.

---

A Silent Omen (That Night)

The room was dark. The air was still.

And yet, I was not alone.

A familiar presence settled in the shadows.

"You're running out of time," the raven's voice murmured into my mind.

I didn't react outwardly. "I know."

"Then you must move forward."

"I don't have control yet," I admitted. "If I force it too soon—"

"You don't have the luxury of waiting."

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes.

"…The sixth element," I said quietly. "Why didn't you name it before?"

Silence.

Then—

"You are not ready to know."

A cold finality in its tone.

I frowned. "But I already have five—"

"And yet, it is the sixth that will define you."

The words sent a shiver down my spine.

The sixth element.

The one even the raven refused to acknowledge.

I had a feeling that when I finally discovered it… everything would change.

For better or for worse.

---

End of Chapter 5.