The twenty-foot oak table felt like a battlefield designed specifically to isolate him.
Noctis sat at the extreme far end, entirely swallowed by the dim, flickering light of the dining hall.
His silver cutlery rested against the polished mahogany. The metal felt like ice against his pale skin.
At the head of the table, Lord Alistair sliced into a thick slab of rare venison. Blood pooled instantly on the pristine white porcelain. The scrape of the steel blade echoed through the massive chamber.
"The taming trials begin at dawn," Alistair announced.
His cold grey eyes remained locked on his bleeding meat. His voice carried the same rigid authority he used to command his Vanguard troops.
"Bastian, your Forest Lynx is prepared for the arena."
Bastian carved off a chunk of venison and chewed it slowly. He swallowed.
"He is ready, Father. The beast hungers for a real fight."
Lady Isolde sat beside them, her posture impeccably straight. Her hands were clad in her signature black gloves. She lifted her crystal wine glass. The black gem on her ring caught the chandelier's firelight.
"You will bring honor to House Umbra, Bastian," Isolde said. Her voice was smooth and deadly. "Unlike other investments."
She didn't look at Noctis. She didn't have to.
Bastian turned his head toward the far end of the table. His eyes gleamed with malice.
"Will our resident hollow shell be joining us?" Bastian asked. "Perhaps he can tame a kitchen rat. I hear they have no mana core."
Noctis tightened his grip on the silver fork. The ornate handle dug sharply into his palm.
"Noctis will remain here," Alistair said.
The Lord of House Umbra finally raised his gaze. It was completely empty, void of all warmth.
"We cannot have a problem ruining the family's image in front of the Vanguard selectors. You will stay in your room."
Noctis said nothing.
Speaking only ever invited physical punishment. He stared directly at the untouched meat on his plate. His stomach twisted into painful knots.
The silence in the grand hall pressed down against him, thick and heavy with unconcealed disgust.
Mansion Umbra ground into absolute silence shortly after midnight.
Noctis slipped out of his cramped, windowless room in the east wing. The freezing stone floors bit into his bare feet.
He moved strictly through the narrow servant passageways, avoiding the main halls entirely. He had memorized the patrol routes of the house guards down to the exact second. He knew where the floorboards creaked. He knew where the shadows fell deepest.
Ten minutes later, he reached the grand library.
Moonlight bled through the massive stained-glass windows, painting jagged blue and red shapes across the floorboards.
Noctis walked directly to the third bookshelf on the right side of the room. He reached toward the heavy, leather-bound encyclopedias. He pressed his index and middle fingers against the spine of Chronicles of Valyria, Volume II.
He pushed hard against the wood.
A sharp mechanical click snapped in the darkness.
The tall bookshelf swung inward on completely silent hinges. Stale air rushed out to meet him, carrying the putrid scent of rotting paper, dry leather, and ancient dust.
Noctis stepped forward into the hidden family vault.
His callused fingers traced the spines of forbidden, restricted texts. He ignored the ledgers on bloodline breeding. He ignored the scrolls on dark mana manipulation.
He grabbed a thick, iron-bound tome from a solitary stone pedestal.
Chronicles of the Primordial Era: Volume III.
He cracked the heavy cover open. The ancient pages were incredibly brittle, flaking off onto the floor beneath his thumb.
Noctis ran a finger over the strange, jagged runes. The text detailed the horror of the Great Collapse. It spoke of a time before mana cores even existed in human bodies. It spoke of true monsters. It spoke of the void.
He clamped a hand over the edge of the page to turn it.
A blinding flash of white light struck him directly in the eyes.
"Well, well. Look what the rat found in the dark."
Noctis dropped the heavy tome. It hit the stone floor with a resounding crack.
Bastian stood in the center of the hidden doorway. He held a glowing mana crystal high in his right hand. The magical light illuminated the cruel curve of his lips.
Two fully armored house guards flanked the legitimate heir. Their hands rested firmly on their sword hilts.
"I knew you were a defect," Bastian said. "But a thief too?"
"I wasn't stealing," Noctis said. He backed up against the pedestal. "I was only reading."
Bastian stepped forward. He kicked Noctis squarely in the center of his chest.
The heavy leather riding boot cracked against Noctis's frail ribs. The impact launched Noctis backward. He slammed hard into the wooden shelves. Stacks of heavy books rained down, striking his shoulders and his skull.
He collapsed to the stone floor, choking on dust and coughing up a mouthful of saliva mixed with a sharp copper taste.
"You broke the vault ward," Bastian spat. He kicked Noctis again, this time catching him in the stomach. "You are trying to steal family artifacts to sell in the Warrens."
Noctis gasped for air. Black spots danced across his vision.
Bastian snapped his fingers at the armored men.
"Drag this vermin to my father."
The guards lunged forward simultaneously. Thick iron gauntlets seized Noctis by both arms. They hoisted him off the ground, nearly dislocating his shoulders in the process.
They dragged him out of the vault. His bare toes scraped violently across the polished wood of the main library.
Dawn painted the sky a bruised, sickening purple outside the glass.
The air inside Lord Umbra's private study felt infinitely colder than the rest of the mansion.
Noctis knelt directly on the woven rug. His ribs throbbed with every shallow breath he took. His stomach cramped violently from the earlier blows.
Lord Alistair stood towering by the wide, reinforced window. His broad back faced the rest of the room. Bastian leaned casually against the heavy oak desk, twirling a silver hunting dagger between his fingers.
Lady Isolde watched from a high-backed chair in the corner. Her black-gloved hands were folded perfectly in her lap.
Alistair finally turned around. His face was a mask of pure, unyielding iron.
"You never learn," Alistair said.
His deep voice held absolutely no anger. It carried only immense, crushing disappointment.
"You possess no mana core. You possess no taming talent. And now, you prove to us that you possess no loyalty."
"I didn't take anything," Noctis said. His voice rasped painfully from his bruised throat. "I was just reading the history."
Alistair closed the distance in two massive strides.
He backhanded Noctis brutally across the face.
The heavy gold signet ring split Noctis's bottom lip wide open. Blood immediately dripped down his chin, splashing onto the expensive rug between his knees.
"You invaded the family vault," Alistair stated coldly. "You handled texts completely forbidden to commoners and defects."
Alistair walked back to his massive oak desk. He rested his knuckles on the wood.
"Take him to the Deadwood Forest."
Noctis froze completely.
The Deadwood Forest wasn't just a place of exile. It was a chaotic death sentence. Rank three and four monsters roamed the cursed woods unchecked. A boy with no core wouldn't last a single night.
"Father, please," Noctis said.
He hated himself entirely for begging. He hated the pathetic word leaving his bleeding mouth.
Alistair stopped moving.
The Lord of House Umbra looked down at Noctis as if examining a crushed, diseased insect on his floor.
"You are not my son. You are a mistake."
Alistair signaled the two armored guards standing by the study doors.
"Throw him to the shadows."
The guards snatched Noctis by his bruised upper arms. They hauled him out of the study and down the grand marble staircase. The sharp edges of the stone steps battered against Noctis's shins and knees.
He didn't struggle against the steel grips. He just let them drag him through the grand foyer.
He caught one last, fleeting look at the massive marble statue of the first Lord Umbra and his legendary Shadow Wolf.
The stone beast stared back with hollow, empty eyes.
The morning frost bit ferociously into Noctis's exposed skin.
The guards hurled him violently into the back of a wooden prison cart parked just outside the mansion gates. He crashed onto the splintered planks.
Thick iron bars slammed shut behind him. A heavy padlock clicked sharply into place.
The driver snapped a long leather whip.
Two massive draft horses pulled the cart forward. The heavy wooden wheels rattled violently against the uneven cobblestones of the street.
Noctis grabbed the iron bars. The freezing metal instantly numbed his bloodied palms.
He watched Mansion Umbra shrink rapidly in the distance.
The cart rolled steadily through the Noble District. Pristine white mansions, towering gates, and sprawling manicured gardens passed by in a blur of wealth. He had lived in this district his entire miserable life, yet he had never belonged to it.
The architecture shifted dramatically as they crossed into the Merchant District.
The streets grew suffocatingly crowded. The smell of fresh bread mixed violently with horse dung and burning coal. Guards pushed the cart aggressively through massive markets filled with shouting traders chasing gold coins.
Then came the Outer Warrens.
The neat cobblestone vanished completely. Rutted dirt and foul mud took its place.
Rotting wooden shanties leaned heavily against each other like shattered teeth. Beggars huddled shivering over trash fires burning in rusted barrels.
They stared at the passing prison cart with hollow, starving eyes.
Noctis watched the miserable poverty roll past. He watched the distinct layers of Valyria City strip away from him.
Far behind him, the Inner Citadel pierced the gray morning sky. It stood as a gleaming spire of pure, absolute subjugation. Men like Alistair ruled from those untouchable heights while the rest bled in the mud.
The cart hit a massive rut, jarring his cracked ribs. Pain spiked viciously through his chest.
Noctis leaned forward and spat a glob of blood onto the wooden floorboards.
The outer city walls loomed ahead. Massive stone gates cranked open, groaning heavily under their own iron weight.
Beyond the gates lay an endless, terrifying ocean of twisted gray trees.
The Deadwood Forest.
The draft horses picked up their pace, charging directly down the muddy road into the dense treeline. The tangled canopy immediately devoured the morning sun.
Shadows instantly swallowed the prison cart whole.
Noctis sat back against the rough, splintered wood. He wiped the drying blood away from his chin.