Disdainful Departure

The morning was cool and crisp, the sky above Blackthorn Castle painted in shades of pale blue and gold. The sunlight glinted off the cobblestones of the courtyard, where two magnificent carriages stood waiting. Each was adorned with the sigil of the Blackthorn family—a black thorned rose encircled by a crown of ice—and pulled by sleek, white steeds whose breath misted in the chill air. The servants and guards bustled about, loading trunks and supplies into the carriages with swift precision.

Eric and Fredrick stood near the lead carriage, dressed in immaculate travel cloaks lined with silver trim. Their matching ice-blue tunics shimmered faintly, enchanted with protective magic—a parting gift from their father. The two brothers were in high spirits, their laughter ringing out as they exchanged boastful banter.

"This will be the start of something great," Eric declared, adjusting the clasp of his cloak. "St. Flatheremere isn't just a school—it's a proving ground. By the time we return, we'll be stronger than ever."

"Stronger and far ahead of certain... others," Fredrick added with a smirk, his gaze flickering toward Speed, who lingered at the edge of the courtyard.

Speed stood apart, his plain clothes a stark contrast to his brothers' finery. He had come to watch them leave, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps some small part of him wanted to wish them well—or maybe it was just a faint hope that his presence might not go unnoticed. 

The guards nearby didn't bother to hide their sneers. One leaned against the courtyard wall, arms crossed, as he nudged his companion. "Looks like someone missed the dress code for magic school," he muttered, loud enough for Speed to hear. 

His companion chuckled, shaking his head. "Magic school? More like the kitchen staff. No magic, no place, no future—poor lad's just wasting space."

Speed's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. He kept his gaze low, focusing on the cobblestones, trying to block out their words. But their laughter grated against him, each sound a reminder of how small they thought he was.

"Speed," Eric called out suddenly, his tone mockingly cheerful. "Come to see us off? How thoughtful of you." He strode closer, his grin sharp as a blade. "We'll write back, of course—send you a report on what real magic looks like."

Fredrick joined in, his smirk widening. "Yes, do try not to miss us too much. Though I suppose Bloodeater will keep you company, won't he?"

Their laughter echoed through the courtyard as they turned back to the carriages. The Duke stood nearby, overseeing the final preparations. His gaze flickered to Speed briefly, but he said nothing, turning instead to his legitimate sons with a nod of approval.

As the carriages pulled away, their wheels crunching against the gravel, Speed watched in silence. The air felt colder now, the weight of the guards' jeers and his brothers' taunts pressing heavy on his chest. But even as the carriages disappeared into the horizon, a flicker of resolve burned within him. One day, they would see. One day, he would rise.

The morning sunlight streamed through the narrow windows of Blackthorn Castle, painting the cold stone walls with patches of warm, golden light. Speed sat on the edge of his bed, still clutching the parchment that had arrived just hours earlier. The letter, sealed with the mark of the Demiri School of Prodigy, felt almost surreal in his hands. He read the words again and again, his eyes lingering on the phrase: *"Your potential will be forged into greatness."*

He wasn't sure how to feel—relieved? Nervous? A spark of hope flickered in his chest, but it was quickly smothered by doubt. He had spent years being told he was nothing, and now, suddenly, a door was opening. Still in a haze, he folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his pocket. 

Seeking solace, or perhaps distraction, Speed made his way to the family library. It was an imposing room, filled with towering bookshelves that stretched to the vaulted ceiling. Dust motes danced in the rays of sunlight filtering through the high windows, and the air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and leather bindings. This had always been his brothers' domain—Eric and Fredrick spent hours here studying advanced magic while Speed had rarely been welcome.

Today, though, the library was empty. The absence of his brothers filled the space with an eerie stillness, and for the first time, Speed felt a strange kind of freedom. He ventured deeper into the labyrinth of shelves, his fingers grazing the spines of books he had never dared to touch. Many were adorned with elaborate symbols, their titles written in languages he couldn't read.

As he turned a corner, a faint glimmer caught his eye. On the lowest shelf, tucked between two weathered tomes, was a slim, leather-bound book with a cover of deep red. Embossed in silver on its surface was a jagged spiral—the same symbol etched onto his wrist. His breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he pulled the book free.

The title gleamed faintly in the dim light: *The Dragon Mage.*

A rush of curiosity and unease washed over him. Flipping it open, he found the pages filled with intricate diagrams and strange, flowing script. Most of the text was incomprehensible, but on the very first page, a single line was written in bold, unmistakable letters:

*"Blood gives all the answers we seek."*

Speed stared at the words, his heartbeat quickening. The phrase seemed to echo in his mind, resonating with a deep, inexplicable familiarity. His hand instinctively moved to his wrist, tracing the birthmark that had always been a mystery.

What did it mean? Why was this symbol, *his* symbol, here? The questions swirled in his mind, but one thing was clear: this was no coincidence. The book had been waiting for him, and somehow, it was tied to the path that was now unfolding before him.

For a long moment, Speed stood frozen in the stillness of the library, the book clutched tightly in his hands. The letter from Demiri pressed against his chest, and the cryptic words from the book burned in his thoughts. Though he didn't have all the answers, one thing was certain—his journey was only just beginning.