"Hold still, Young Master Luthian. Please... just a moment longer."
Hilda's fingers were trembling.
They were usually deft and steady when handling lace and buttons.
Today, they struggled with the last silver clasp.
I could feel her short breaths against the back of my neck.
When she took my face in her hands, her palms were cold and rough with calluses.
"Hilda, everything itches! It's too tight, I can't breathe properly," I complained, trying to wriggle free from her grasp.
"Can't I wear the soft wool one instead? I want to go play in the gardens."
She froze.
Then she flicked me sharply on the forehead.
She stepped in front of me and gently took my face between her hands.
Her palms were cold, and I could feel the roughness of the calluses beneath her fingers.
She stared into my eyes with an intensity that was almost painful.
My heart was pounding. I loved her dearly, and instinctively, I reached out to hug her.
"You're not playing today, Young Master. You must be perfect," she whispered into my ear.
She tried to reassure me as she held me tightly against her.
"Whatever happens, make sure you show them who you are out there!"
I nodded quietly, swallowing the knot in my throat.
Hilda sprang to her feet. She sniffled, and the look of pride on her face was all I needed.
In an instant, she composed herself and became the stern, uncompromising nursemaid I had always known.
"Marta! Grete!" she called toward the open doorway.
Two young maids who often helped around my room hurried inside, their heads bowed.
"Escort Young Master Luthian to the entrance of the Lunar Hall. A guard will be waiting for him there. Understood?"
"Yes, Lady Hilda," they whispered in unison, taking their places at either side of me like two silent sentinels.
Hilda quickly straightened my collar and firmly turned me toward the door.
"Go now, Young Master. And keep your head held high. No matter what happens."
I felt a rustle behind me, followed by a faint, gentle breeze brushing against the back of my neck.
Why did her voice...?
I turned around sharply.
"Hil-..."
She was already gone.
The corridor was chaos.
Servants rushed past carrying trays and candles.
Whenever they saw me, they lowered their heads and quickened their pace.
As though merely looking at me was enough to bring bad luck.
My feet trembled with anxiety as I walked.
I had promised my brothers that I would play with them later that evening.
I clenched my fists and took a deep breath.
A short while later, we arrived near the great Lunar Hall.
The doors were enormous, and the silence that hung over the dimly lit place sent another chill down my spine.
I had only been to this part of the palace a few times, and from what little I knew, the entire area was forbidden. Even getting too close was prohibited.
The two maids stopped before the great doors and handed me over to a large knight whose armor was even more magnificent than that of any other guard I had seen.
The doors of the Lunar Hall swung heavily inward, the metallic groan they made drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
I was immediately engulfed by the warmth and glow of the suspended flames, along with the countless voices filling the hall.
It was the complete opposite of the darkness outside.
My breathing grew heavier.
The guard escorting me stomped his foot against the black marble before coming to a complete stop.
"Entering the glorious Lunar Hall... Luthian Stahl Eisenhart!"
A shiver of fear and awe robbed me of any coherent thought.
Something touched my back, making me jump.
It was the guard, gesturing toward where I was supposed to go.
A long line of children stood before me.
I began walking toward the end of the line.
At least I wasn't one of the first.
I felt relieved.
That relief lasted only a moment.
When I glanced to my left, I saw every eye in the hall fixed on me.
Another shiver ran down my spine. I turned my gaze toward the center of the hall, where blinding lights reflected off the enormous table beneath the suspended flames.
Neatly folded across it were our test subjects.
The Aether Veils.
Standing beside the table in all his icy grandeur was my uncle, Szilard Stahl Eisenhart, Court Archmage and younger brother of the Duke.
His bearing was regal, unshakable.
But the true, oppressive source of pressure came from the raised platform at the far end of the hall.
My father sat upon the throne.
Vorgath Stahl Eisenhart.
He was not a man who fidgeted.
He did not smile.
He never gestured unnecessarily.
His very presence made the air in the hall feel thin, difficult to breathe.
The estate chancellor stepped forward and began introducing the nobles and announcing the start of the magical test.
"I leave the administration of the test to Szilard, Court Archmage."
My uncle stepped forward.
"One at a time," Szilard announced, his flat voice echoing between the columns.
"Approach. Bow before our Lord. And grasp the Veil."
Szilard shot me a stern glance.
The test began.
One by one, the children called forward by my uncle stepped away from the line.
They walked stiffly, terrified, placing their trembling hands against the silk.
Some closed their eyes and furrowed their brows as they strained.
Others only had to brush the fabric for it to instantly change color, glowing blue or taking on faint shades of red.
My father remained completely impassive regardless of the results.
His eyes were two dark stones fixed on some distant point beyond the heads of the gathered nobles, devoid of even the slightest trace of genuine interest.
Before I even realized it, the line had already been cut in half.
Those deemed worthy were greeted by their families, who, with a special permit, paid their respects to the Duke before hurrying to leave the palace.
I was the last one in line.
I clenched my fists at my sides, staring at the polished floor.
I am Luthian. I am an Eisenhart. My blood is power.
"Luthian," Szilard called.
I flinched.
Silence followed.
A silence so unnatural that it seemed to swallow the entire hall.
I tried to move, but for a few moments I was paralyzed.
The nobles' murmurs grew louder, like a swarm of enraged wasps.
Every eye was fixed on me.
I took a deep breath and stepped away from the line, approaching the table.
The incense stung my throat, making me nauseous.
The sharp cold of the stone seeped through the thin soles of my leather shoes.
Szilard's gaze made him seem enormous.
I tried to appear as natural as possible and raised my eyes toward the throne.
Toward my father, meeting his two dark irises.
I lowered my head and performed the bow I had practiced for weeks with my etiquette tutors, awkward and hurried.
"I-I'm Luthian Stahl Eisenhart."
The nobles' murmurs grew sharper, laced with ridicule.
I knew I had made a pitiful impression, unworthy of someone who carried the blood of the primary branch.
As I tried to compose myself, I cast one last glance at my father.
He was a statue of ice.
"Grasp it."
Szilard's command cut through the air, silencing every whisper.
I placed my hand on the Veil.
Szilard's words from our lessons returned to me.
"Imagine a warmth flowing from your chest, down your arm, until you force it out through your palm."
I closed my eyes.
I searched for that warmth.
Nothing.
Only the knot in my throat and the cramp in my stomach tightening around my breath.
I tried a second time.
I drew in a deep breath and forced the air downward.
But once again, I felt nothing flowing beneath my palm.
The Veil remained cold and motionless.
A sensation of absolute absence, a void, crept up from my wrist and sent a shiver through me.
I tightened my grip on the fabric.
I waited.
Nothing happened.
"Why?" The word slipped from my lips in a broken whisper.
Panic began clawing at the walls of my stomach.
I just need to try harder.
I clenched my fingers around the silken fabric until my knuckles turned white, until the tendons in my forearm strained with the effort.
The Veil did not react.
The entire Lunar Hall fell so silent that I could hear nothing but the crackling of the suspended flames above me.
White was not among the expected colors.
I heard them.
Like the diseased buzzing of flies feasting on a carcass.
"White...?"
"Impossible... it didn't react."
"The Veil is... But he's Lord Vo-..."
My stomach twisted into a painful knot.
I looked desperately at my uncle, silently begging for some logical explanation.
He closed his eyes and turned away, avoiding my gaze.
No...
Tears began to sting my eyes, slow and burning.
I looked around in pure panic.
Dozens of faces stared down at me from the balconies, all wearing the same identical expression of utter, unfiltered contempt.
"W-why...?" I whispered, my voice trembling like a child's whimper.
Then my father's voice cut through the air, deep and final.
"Tsk... You."
My heart stopped.
Father...
I jerked my head up, my breath catching.
But Vorgath's gaze was not fixed on the table or on me.
It was directed toward the side balcony.
A man stopped laughing instantly.
The color drained from his face in a fraction of a second.
He took a step forward, visibly trembling beneath his armor.
"M-My Lord... Lord Vorgath... I didn't mean to-"
Vorgath did not rise from his throne.
He did not shout.
He did not order him to be silent.
He simply raised his left hand.
The air in the room collapsed.
My tears dried instantly.
An monstrous physical pressure crushed down on my shoulders, forcing my knees to buckle.
Ghk... What's happening?
I could hear several high-ranking nobles loudly berating the guard, accusing him of being a disrespectful commoner and insisting that laughing in the Duke's presence was unacceptable.
"L-Lord, I beg you... Nngh! F-forgive me!" the guard gasped, dropping to his knees beneath the weight of that invisible aura.
My eyes fell on the marquis seated beside the guard.
The man I had seen laughing behind his fingers, adorned with golden rings.
A faint, sadistic smile curled across his lips.
Suddenly, the horror became clear.
"Nngh... I have a fami-... AAAAAH!"
Vorgath slowly closed his fist.
There was nothing clean about the sound.
It was wet.
Obscene.
The plate armor crumpled like paper.
The man's body was crushed against the floor, twisted into an impossible shape.
My eyes widened. I couldn't look away.
A wave of nausea rose from my stomach.
With tear-reddened eyes, I looked toward the balconies.
Several nobles began applauding politely, delighted by the Duke's overwhelming display of power.
The man on the floor was still gasping, blood gurgling in his throat.
The sound of his broken breathing was worse than the screams themselves.
A dark, thick pool began slowly spreading across the black-and-white marble.
Some of the children still in line behind me burst into tears in terror.
But what truly shattered my soul in that moment was the absolute indifference of the adults.
Their amused, bored expressions looked like the faces of demons from children's stories.
"A necessary lesson to maintain order," a pudgy man murmured, bowing deeply toward the throne.
I stood frozen, my face as white as the Veil I was still clutching desperately in my hands.
These could not be the same gracious, smiling nobles I had glimpsed at the banquets, always eager to exchange gifts and polite pleasantries.
My sheltered little world shattered into a thousand pieces.
I had never understood anything about the place I had been born into.
I gathered the courage to look at Vorgath again.
His gaze fell upon me, but passed straight through me as though I were made of glass.
To him, I was no longer part of that room.
Perhaps, I realized with a shiver, I had never been part of it at all.
Vorgath slowly rose from his throne.
His figure loomed against the stained-glass windows, imposing and inhuman.
"Blood and power are the only things that grant you the right to breathe beneath the name Stahl Eisenhart."
Szilard took a step forward.
"Lord Vorgath... perhaps the Veil-"
"Enough."
An intricate crimson magic circle instantly ignited beneath Vorgath's boots.
His gaze settled directly on me.
"From this moment onward, Luthian Stahl Eisenhart shall lose every right, rank, and privilege belonging to the Stahl House. From this day forward, he shall no longer be recognized as a Stahl."
Silence fell over the hall.
Then the chancellor stepped forward.
He slowly unrolled a sealed parchment.
"According to the Edict of the Kingdom of Turhan, promulgated in the three hundred and forty-ninth year of the Empire by Korthon the First..."
His voice became solemn.
"Luthian Stahl Eisenhart is hereby officially stripped of the rights, rank, and privileges belonging to the Stahl House. From this moment onward, he shall be recognized solely as Luthian Eisenhart."
No...
For the first and last time that day, his gaze settled directly upon me.
It struck me with unbearable force, heavier than the gravity that had crushed the guard.
A light appeared above the magic circle beneath his boots, then vanished without a trace.
Szilard slammed his open palm against the wooden table to reclaim everyone's attention.
"The ceremony is over. Please leave in an orderly manner. The hall will now be closed for cleaning and protocol," he ordered, before turning toward a guard who remained motionless beside the corpse.
"Call the maids. Clean this up immediately."
"Yes, sir!"
The hall began to empty quickly.
Nobles, dignitaries, and guards filed out, carefully avoiding my eyes, as though my "magical failure" were some kind of contagious curse.
I clenched my fists at my sides, trembling from head to toe.
I searched for my uncle.
Desperately, I wanted to ask him what I was supposed to do, to find some explanation, some fragment of support from the master who had trained me for months.
But he was already marching toward the side exit, his cloak rustling behind him, without looking back.
I was left alone, kneeling in the center of the hall.
The metallic, viscous smell of blood filled the air, mixing with the scent of incense.
The white Veil still chilled my fingers, one final, cruel mockery.
I squeezed it out of sheer, blind stubbornness.
It remained relentlessly white.
Impossible... why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this?
And it was there, in the silence of my utter ruin, that I heard a distant whisper.
A low laugh.
It was deeply satisfied.
Pleased.
Something crouched within the darkness of that hall, finding my downfall...
funny.
I was no longer the third son.
I had been stripped of my name, my family, and my future.