The Trial of the Forgotten Heir

Chapter 9: The Trial of the Forgotten Heir

The Dance of the Trickster

The flicker of morning sunlight barely reached Noctis's chamber, its cold glow muted by the heavy obsidian curtains that draped the windows. The air smelled of aged stone and old secrets — much like the bloodline he bore.

Noctis sat before his mirror, fastening the last button of his high-collared black tunic. The crest of House Umbrael—an eclipsed moon cradled by serpent-like shadows—was emblazoned across his chest. The fabric, woven with ancient enchantments, hummed faintly beneath his fingers.

A soft knock echoed from the door. Without turning, Noctis spoke. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and the scent of lavender and frost drifted in—his mother.

Selene Umbrael entered the room with her usual measured grace. Her gown, made of flowing black silk, rippled like a living shadow around her feet. Moonlight silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, but her piercing emerald eyes—the same as Noctis's—held no warmth.

"Today is the trial," she said coldly, closing the door behind her.

Noctis glanced at her reflection. "Yes, mother."

She didn't approach him immediately. Instead, she moved to the side of his bed, resting her gloved hand on one of the bedposts. "You understand what this trial represents, don't you?"

"That my failure is expected?" Noctis answered with a faint, bitter smirk.

Selene's gaze sharpened. "No. That your failure is demanded."

Silence stretched between them. Noctis turned from the mirror to face her directly. "And you? Do you expect me to fail?"

Her smile was thin, unreadable. "I expect you to survive."

That answer unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

Selene stepped closer, her shadowy aura pressing faintly against his senses. "The Trial Stones are designed to measure the strength of one's bloodline. They will seek to expose your potential, Noctis. Should you unleash even a fraction of your true gift—"

"The court will know," Noctis finished quietly. "And they'll fear me."

"No," Selene corrected, her voice ice. "They'll kill you."

The air turned suffocating.

Selene's expression did not change, but the weight of her presence settled heavily in the room. "You bear the blood of House Erevar beneath the stain of Umbrael's name. The council may have allowed you to exist—but the moment they discover what slumbers within you, they will see you as a threat. Even your father."

Noctis swallowed thickly. He had known it, deep down, but hearing it from her lips still stung. "So you expect me to conceal my strength."

"Not conceal," Selene murmured, "obscure."

Her gaze never left his. "The Trial Stone will respond to your bloodline, but you must ensure it reveals nothing remarkable. Channel your power inward, not outward. Let it sink into the stone without manifesting. The stone will believe you lack strength, but in truth… you will have simply hidden it."

Noctis hesitated. "…And if I fail the trial?"

Selene finally moved toward him. Her hand, cold as marble, rested briefly on his cheek. "Then you will be exactly what they expect you to be—nothing."

The word burned in his chest.

Selene's touch fell away, but she lingered close. "But if you succeed… without them realizing why… then you will become something far more dangerous." Her voice dipped into something darker. "A ghost within their shadow. Unseen. Unfeared. And that is where true power lies."

Noctis clenched his fists. "You wish for me to pretend to be weak."

"No," Selene answered softly. "I wish for you to understand that true strength is never declared. It is whispered."

A cold, bitter smile twisted her lips. "Your brother will showcase his raw strength. Your cousin will display her refinement. You, Noctis…" Her voice darkened, "will become the absence in the room—the silence that unsettles."

His throat tightened. "And what if the Trial Stone still reveals my true nature?"

Selene's gaze never wavered. "It won't."

"…How can you be so certain?"

For the first time, Selene stepped even closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because you were born of something far older than their comprehension. House Erevar's blood does not scream its power—it burrows."

She raised her hand, fingers grazing his temple. "Even now, you unconsciously suppress your presence. They do not look at you because they have already been conditioned not to. That is your gift, Noctis."

A tremor of cold dread slithered down his spine.

"Channel it," Selene said, her voice silk and steel. "When you touch the stone, do not force your power. Instead… let it sink like poison. The stone will record you as insignificant. Harmless."

"And they will not know," Noctis murmured.

"And they will not know," Selene echoed, smiling coldly. "But you… you will know, won't you, my son?"

A long silence.

Then Selene turned, moving toward the door. "One more thing, Noctis."

He swallowed. "Yes?"

Her hand lingered on the doorknob. "When you face your brother and cousin in the third trial… do not outwit them."

He frowned. "What?"

Selene's emerald gaze flicked back, and for a brief moment—just a moment—there was something resembling pride in her eyes. "Destroy them."

The door closed behind her, and Noctis was left in heavy silence.

A slow, cold smirk curled his lips.

Yes.

He would destroy them.

The sun had barely begun its ascent when Selene stepped into the main hall of House Umbrael, her posture poised yet rigid. The grandeur of the estate did little to comfort her; its stone walls and high ceilings only served as a reminder of her place — and more painfully, her son's.

She walked with purpose, her silk gown of deep midnight hues flowing behind her like a shadow. Every step whispered authority, despite the unspoken scorn the household cast upon her and Noctis.

Selene was not summoned, of course. She was never summoned. Yet she came.

The moment she entered the drawing room, she was met with the cold, piercing gaze of Duke Regulus Umbrael — her husband. Beside him, poised in feigned grace, sat Lady Evelyne, his second wife. Her golden hair shimmered in the morning light, her smile as polished as the porcelain tea set before her.

And sitting by Evelyne's side was Caelum. Their perfect son.

The air thickened the moment Selene arrived.

"You've come," Regulus remarked without warmth, not bothering to stand. "Unexpected."

Selene stopped a measured distance away, her face carefully composed. "I would not miss my son's trial."

Evelyne let out a light, mocking laugh, setting her teacup down. "Your son? My, you still claim him so boldly despite his… unfortunate place in the household." Her voice dripped with condescension. "Surely you understand that today is merely a formality. We wouldn't want him embarrassing himself, now would we?"

Selene's smile didn't falter. "Embarrassment requires failure. He will not fail."

Evelyne's brow arched, amused. "You sound confident. How quaint. Yet you must know that Noctis… lacks the brilliance of true nobility." She gestured toward Caelum. "Not like my son."

Caelum sat tall, his smugness unhidden. "You may as well prepare your condolences, Lady Selene. After today, there will be no mistake who the true heir of House Umbrael is."

Selene's gaze flicked to her husband, her voice like sharpened steel. "And you allow this mockery, Regulus?"

The Duke's eyes met hers, devoid of sympathy. "You should not have come, Selene. The boy is a shadow of what a noble should be. You will only witness his shame."

Selene stepped forward, her voice quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade. "A shadow, you say?" She smiled faintly. "Then I wonder, Regulus… have you forgotten what House Umbrael's power is built upon?"

The room stilled.

Regulus's jaw tightened. "Do not lecture me on our House's history."

"And yet you act as though the shadows in our veins can only be wielded through brute strength," Selene continued, her eyes narrowing. "House Umbrael's true power was never in mere force. It was in subterfuge. Control. Cunning."

Evelyne scoffed, folding her hands delicately. "And is that what you believe Noctis possesses? Cunning?"

Selene's smile sharpened. "No. I believe he possesses something far more dangerous. Restraint."

A beat of silence.

Evelyne laughed, a brittle sound. "Delusion, my dear. Perhaps grief has blinded you."

Selene's gaze did not waver. "And perhaps arrogance has blinded you."

Evelyne's smile faltered, but Caelum leaned in, his voice low and mocking. "It's adorable how you cling to hope, Lady Selene. But we both know that once the stones judge us, Noctis will—"

"Be something you will never comprehend."

The room fell silent.

Selene turned her gaze directly toward Caelum, her tone deceptively soft. "You believe strength alone makes an heir. But my son…" she leaned slightly, her presence suddenly suffocating, "…was born with the blood of two legacies. While you have merely one."

Caelum's smug grin froze. "What nonsense are you—"

"And you, Regulus," she turned to her husband, her voice like velvet steel, "continue to turn a blind eye to the very threat sleeping beneath your own roof."

Regulus's hand curled into a fist, but he said nothing.

Evelyne scoffed. "Threat? The boy is nothing but a discarded shadow. You speak as though he—"

"He still has the blood of House Umbrael," Selene interrupted smoothly. "The stone will recognize it. Perhaps not in ways you expect… but it will recognize him."

Evelyne leaned forward, a smile creeping back. "And when it doesn't?"

Selene turned, walking toward the door, but she paused just before leaving. "Then I suppose you should pray the stone does not see what he's truly capable of." She glanced at her husband one last time. "Or you will regret having left him in the dark."

And without waiting for a response, she left.

Because she already knew.

Today, Noctis would not simply pass.

He would unmake them.

The dawn was silent as the noble estate of House Umbrael stirred to life. Servants moved with hurried efficiency, whispering of the day's event—the Rite of Nobility, a sacred trial meant to test the worth of a noble heir.

For most, it was a formality.

For Noctis, it was a spectacle.

His father, Duke Regulus Umbrael, had made it clear—he was an afterthought, a son barely acknowledged, unworthy of even his own name.

Yet today, before the gathered nobility, Noctis would be forced to prove himself.

The grand courtyard of House Umbrael was filled with aristocrats, their elaborate attire shimmering under the mid-morning sun. House heads, influential nobles, and even high-ranking imperial officials had gathered.

They weren't here to witness Noctis's success.

They were here to watch him fail.

At the heart of the courtyard stood three elaborate stone platforms, each marked with intricate engravings that pulsed with latent power. The Trial Stones—artifacts that measured the strength, control, and potential of a noble's bloodline abilities.

Each heir stood before their designated stone, prepared to showcase their gifts.

To Noctis's right stood Caelum Umbrael, his older half-brother. Tall, proud, and brimming with confidence, Caelum had long been seen as the rightful heir.

To his left stood Seraphina Umbrael, their cousin, a cold and calculating noble with sharp blue eyes and an even sharper wit. She was a prodigy in shadow magic, someone the family truly valued.

And then there was Noctis—the forgotten son, the unworthy extra.

The trial master, Grand Magister Aldric, a stern man with graying hair and piercing golden eyes, raised his staff.

"The Rite of Nobility shall commence." His voice echoed through the courtyard. "You will be tested in three aspects—power, control, and deception. May the gods bear witness to the worth of House Umbrael's heirs."

The first trial was simple: channel your bloodline power into the stone before you.

Caelum stepped forward first, placing his hands on the Obsidian Trial Stone. A pulse of shadow energy surged from his fingertips, wrapping around the stone like writhing tendrils of darkness.

The runes flared, glowing deep violet, and the stone trembled.

A murmur rippled through the gathered nobles.

"An impressive output," one lord whispered.

"As expected of House Umbrael's heir," another added.

Seraphina was next. Her touch sent a calculated wave of cold shadow energy into the stone. Unlike Caelum's brute force, hers moved like a sharp knife in the dark, precise and refined.

The runes glowed a sharper hue of indigo, the reaction just as strong—if not stronger—than Caelum's.

Then came Noctis.

He took a slow breath, placing his hands on the stone.

The gathered nobles watched, eager to see his humiliation.

He couldn't afford to reveal his true abilities, not yet.

Instead of raw power, he carefully layered his energy—subtle, deceptive, unseen. His shadows coiled within the stone like whispers in the dark, sinking deeper rather than violently surging.

To an untrained eye, it looked like nothing had happened.

A noble scoffed. "Pitiful."

But Aldric's eyes narrowed. He glanced at the stone carefully.

Though the reaction wasn't visible, Noctis had done something far more dangerous—his energy had woven itself inside the Trial Stone, embedding itself so deeply that its glow was muted from within.

The second trial required heirs to manifest their power externally, shaping it into a visible form.

Caelum summoned a swirling sphere of shadow energy, letting it hover over his palm. The shadows rippled and coalesced into the form of a dagger, solid and deadly.

A round of polite applause followed.

Seraphina raised her hands, and her shadows shifted like a living entity, forming the shape of a serpent coiling around her wrist. It flickered between the real and the unreal, showcasing her refined control.

More murmurs of approval.

Then, all eyes turned to Noctis.

He exhaled slowly, lifting his hand.

Instead of summoning something grand, he extended his energy outward—not as a visible construct, but as a subtle manipulation of perception itself.

The nobles blinked.

Some frowned.

For a brief moment, it looked as though he had summoned nothing at all.

Then the whispers began.

"Wait… where did he go?"

"Wasn't he just standing there?"

"I—I can still see him, but something feels wrong."

Noctis smirked.

His Trickster's Blood didn't simply create illusions—it altered what others perceived as real. Rather than forming a construct, he had warped the nobles' perception, making them believe something was off.

To those watching, it felt like Noctis had briefly disappeared, as if he had momentarily ceased to exist.

Even Aldric's eyebrows rose slightly.

This was no ordinary shadow magic.

The final trial was not about power or control, but about cunning.

Each heir was presented with a sealed letter containing information about a noble scandal. Their task? Uncover the truth without direct confrontation.

Caelum took the direct route. He interrogated the servants, pressing them for information. His approach was forceful, but effective.

Seraphina used her network of spies, weaving the truth through layers of careful deduction.

Then there was Noctis.

He didn't ask questions.

He didn't investigate.

Instead, he planted a single false rumor among the nobles standing nearby.

A single sentence.

One that had never been written in the letter at all.

Within minutes, the nobles had begun whispering his fabricated lie, convinced it was the truth.

When Aldric reviewed the results, he found something shocking.

Noctis had solved the mystery, but his answer was something entirely different from the real scandal—and yet, the nobles had already accepted it as truth.

It was as if he had rewritten reality itself.

Silence.

The gathered nobles exchanged wary glances.

Noctis should have been a failure, yet he had passed every trial—not through raw power, but through something far more dangerous.

Vaelen Umbrael's expression was unreadable.

Caelum clenched his fists, his pride wounded.

Seraphina's cold gaze lingered on Noctis longer than necessary, a flicker of interest in her usually emotionless demeanor.

Aldric cleared his throat. "The Rite of Nobility has concluded. Each heir has demonstrated their abilities accordingly."

He glanced at Noctis, his golden eyes calculating.

"Lord Noctis… your methods were unconventional. Yet, I cannot deny the results."

Noctis merely bowed.

The lingering tension of the trial still hung in the air when Noctis slipped through the side corridors of the estate, his expression calm despite the storm that brewed around him. Servants averted their gazes, nobles whispered in disbelief, and his father—Duke Regulus—had left without a word.

But Noctis didn't care.

He had already achieved what he came for.

However, his silent victory was not without consequence.

"Noctis!"

The sharp voice of his older brother echoed from behind him, laced with unrestrained hostility. Noctis didn't stop walking, his smirk already forming.

He waited until Caelum was only steps away before he turned slightly, his green eyes gleaming with faint amusement. "Yes?"

Caelum was still clad in his ceremonial trial attire, though now his proud, composed facade had splintered. There was no trace of the certainty he had carried before the trial. Instead, disbelief and simmering fury carved lines into his face.

"You think that stunt you pulled in the trial changes anything?" Caelum hissed, his voice low enough that only Noctis could hear. "You barely did anything, and yet somehow the nobles are whispering your name as if you've accomplished something."

Noctis's smirk didn't waver. "Strange, isn't it?"

Caelum's eyes darkened. "It wasn't strength. You know that, don't you? Whatever you did—it wasn't real power." He took a step forward, his height allowing him to loom over Noctis. "What did you do, Noctis? Slip something in the trial stone? Beg mother for some parlor trick she dug from her cursed bloodline?"

The mention of Selene made Noctis's expression flatten. "Careful, Caelum."

But Caelum only laughed coldly. "Oh, there it is. That flicker of rage when I mention her." He leaned in, his breath harsh. "She's the only reason you even stand here, isn't she? Whispering nonsense in your ear, filling your head with delusions that you're something more than a forgotten bastard."

Noctis's fists curled, but his expression remained eerily calm. "You're mistaken."

"Am I?" Caelum sneered. "She still clings to you like you're worth something. Did she tell you the stone would accept your touch? Did she promise you that one day you'd surpass me?" His voice lowered, sharp with mockery. "She's pathetic, Noctis. And so are you for believing her."

Noctis said nothing.

Caelum smirked, mistaking his silence for submission. "What did she say to you before the trial? That you had greatness in your veins? That father would finally see you?" He laughed bitterly. "She's delusional. And so are you if you think today meant anything. Face it, Noctis. You're not strong. You're just a twisted reflection of your mother's desperation."

Noctis didn't respond immediately. Instead, he watched his brother in silence, his gaze unnervingly cold.

And then he smiled.

"Desperation, you say…" Noctis murmured. "Tell me, Caelum. Who looks more desperate now? Me… or you?"

Caelum's fist clenched. "What?"

Noctis gestured around them. "Look at yourself. Seething. Enraged. Desperate to remind me of my place—because for the first time, you realized it's not beneath you." He took a step forward, his voice lowering like a serpent's whisper. "And do you know what's funny, brother?"

Caelum's teeth clenched, unwilling to hear it.

"My mother never promised me power," Noctis continued, his tone softer now, more haunting. "She didn't need to." He smiled coldly. "She simply told me to be patient."

Caelum's breath hitched, as if a ghostly hand had wrapped around his throat.

Because deep down, he realized—Selene had known. She had known this entire time that Noctis's abilities were beyond conventional measure. And she had said nothing. She merely watched and waited.

Caelum swallowed his bitterness. "You think this changes anything?" he rasped.

"It already has," Noctis replied softly.

Caelum laughed bitterly, stepping back. "Enjoy your little victory, bastard. The nobles still favor me. Father still favors me. You're still nothing but the forgotten heir."

Noctis shrugged. "Then why do you look so afraid?"

Caelum froze.

The words sliced deeper than he cared to admit.

Noctis finally turned to face him fully, his voice quiet. "Then why are you so angry, brother?"

Caelum froze. "…What?"

Noctis's gaze was unrelenting. "If my success was meaningless—if my performance was nothing but a fluke—then why do you look so shaken?" His voice lowered, unnerving in its calmness. "You should be celebrating my failure. Yet here you are, grasping for excuses, desperate to convince yourself that today didn't matter."

Caelum's jaw clenched. "Don't twist this—"

"Twist what?" Noctis smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "The fact that you expected me to embarrass myself? Or the fact that, despite everything, the nobles still whispered my name?"

"Am I?" Noctis tilted his head. "Then why are you here? Why aren't you celebrating your inevitable succession?"

Caelum took a sharp breath, his composure slipping. "I came to remind you of your place."

Noctis stepped closer, his voice a whisper of ice. "No. You came because, for the first time, you realized something." He leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. "You realized that I'm not as irrelevant as you hoped I'd be."

Caelum scoffed. "You're delusional."

"Am I?" Noctis mused, his tone unbothered. "Then tell me, Caelum. When you slept last night, did it ever cross your mind that I'd succeed?" His smile sharpened. "And now that I have, will you sleep soundly tonight?"

Caelum's throat bobbed, but no words came.

Noctis leaned in one last time, his voice a haunting whisper. "The only person who believes I'm worthless anymore… is you."

Caelum recoiled as if struck. "You—"

"Careful, brother," Noctis interrupted, his tone dropping dangerously low. "Mock me if you will. Insult my mother if you dare. But remember one thing." He smiled thinly. "I didn't need power to make them question you today."

Caelum stared at him, unable to conceal the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

"And if that terrifies you now…" Noctis turned his back and began walking away. "…imagine what will happen when I stop holding back."

Caelum didn't move.

For the first time in his life, he felt something he never associated with his younger brother.

Unease.