POV: Aldric Leywin
The dawn light crept across the floorboards, painting gentle stripes that beckoned me from the corner where I crouched. My body ached with the weight of unspoken fear. I watched Mother and Father py with Arthur—rolling a small wooden ball between them and ughing as he cpped his chubby hands. Each giggle twisted a knife in my chest. I longed to join them but dared not. What if my hands—my curse—struck out without warning?
I pressed my fingers into my palms, hiding them beneath my knees. The memory of st night’s touch haunted me: the moment I’d reached for the window tch and felt a whisper of power bloom beneath my skin. It had felt… wonderful. A warmth like mother’s embrace, a soft pull that promised release. And then the grass outside had bckened, crisped into dust. I’d stumbled back, chest heaving, tears burning my eyes. No one saw, but I remembered every detail.
Breath rattling, I crawled backward until my spine pressed against the wall. My heart thundered. I was a monster. A pgue. The Abyss’s warning echoed in my mind: *“You have until you’re three to form a core. Fail, and your decay will drown the world.”* I was one. Two years to go. Two years that might as well be two centuries.
A tremor ran through me. I could still feel that wooing warmth hovering under my skin, even now, hours ter. It whispered promise and power, a lulby that made me ache for more. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish it. I would not succumb. I could not. But what if I craved it? What if part of me longed to let the curse blossom?
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POV: Arthur Leywin
Aldric was quiet this morning. Too quiet. Even for someone who barely spoke words, his silence carried weight. I finished my porridge and crawled out of my high chair. Mother chased me with a wipe; I squirmed away and giggled. But Aldric watched from his crib, his gray eyes wide and troubled.
I approached him, offering a wooden block painted bright red—the one we had rolled yesterday. He stared at it, unmoving, as if he forgot how to py. I tapped it. “Here.” He blinked and slid the block toward me with a slow motion. His fingers trembled. I frowned.
“Al…dric?” I tried his name softly. He nodded once, quickly looking away. I wanted to ask him to join me, but I didn’t. Something in his posture said he wasn’t ready. I turned and left, gncing back to see him hunched in the crib’s corner, hands csped beneath his chin.
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POV: Aldric Leywin
I padded into the study, where Father had left a shallow basin of water to wash cy from our hands after yesterday’s painting session. I knelt beside it, watching ripples travel across the surface. My reflection looked hollow—sunken eyes, cheeks pale.
Slowly, I lifted my right hand and held it above the water. The skin was unmarked now, but I remembered how it bckened st night. I willed it to stay calm. I breathed in shallow puffs and focused on the mana lessons I’d watched Arthur practice: soft breath, empty mind, gentle pull.
At first, nothing happened. Then, a hint of warmth—a flutter in my fingertips—made me gasp. My heart raced at the thrill. The basin warmed, steam rising where my fingers hovered. The water trembled, tiny waves rippling outward as if reaching for me.
I jerked back. The basin cracked, a long fissure snaking across its bottom. Water pooled on the floor. Panic cwed at me; I pressed my palms to my eyes, stifling a sob. Learning mana was meant to save me, but each attempt brought the curse closer to waking.
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POV: Arthur Leywin
When I was King, I would have seen through this, I thought as I wobbled toward the study. Aldric and I were meant to train together. I found him kneeling by the basin, staring at the floor. The cracked ceramic y beneath him. He shuffled away when he saw me, face contorted.
“You broke?” I asked, pointing at the basin.
He shook his head. I knelt and touched the crack—it was cold, brittle. “Oops,” I said, nudging it closed with both hands. But it didn’t move.
Aldric’s lips trembled. I reached out, intending to rest my hand on his shoulder, but he flinched, recoiling. I hurtled backward, surprised, and bumped into a chair.
“Aldric?” I whispered, brow furrowed. He ran from the room.
I frowned. He was more frightened than he’d ever been. But I had failed him, too. I’d wanted to help, and instead I’d startled him. I wondered what hidden fear y behind those gray eyes.
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POV: Aldriv Leywin
I fled to the nursery, chest burning. I smmed the door shut and colpsed before it, pressing my back to the wood. My breath was ragged. My mind swam with horrible possibilities. He saw me broken. He smelled the scent of fear.
Bile rose in my throat at the thought of hurting him. Arthur had never once caused me harm. He was my anchor. If I lost him—if I lost them all—I would drown in darkness.
I counted heartbeats. Ten… twenty… fifty. I needed to calm myself. I reached inside, seeking that hidden core of cold resolve. I recalled the first time I killed the potted pnt—how the pque of decay spread like a disease. The touch had felt silky, as though I’d draped a velvet cloak over my sinews. It soothed the terror, even as it terrified me.
I shuddered at the memory. The curse offered mercy in death—a quick end to the pain. But that was selfish. People weren’t meant to die under my hands. They were meant to live. I would force the mana core to wake. I had to.
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POV: Arthur Leywin
Later, I found Aldric perched on the window seat, hands folded in his p. The garden outside glinted under the sun. I saw a small circle of bckened grass beneath the sill—dry and brittle. I frowned, crawling closer.
“What this?” I asked softly.
Aldric’s face froze. He did not answer. I reached toward the gss with a twig I’d found outside, poking at the dead grass. It snapped off. I held it up. “Old?”
He shook his head, eyes filled with terror.
I swallowed. “Arthur fix.” I grabbed a watering can, filled it from the fountain, and poured water on the dead patch. Nothing happened. The soil remained parched, the grass unmoved.
Aldric backed away, shoulders hunched. I bit my lip. The dead grass and the basin crack and Aldric’s fear… they must be connected. But I was only one year old. I had no answers. So I left him to his thoughts.
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POV: Aldric Leywin
They called me their son. They held me, smiled at me, whispered promises of love. I believed them until I nearly killed our mother with a stray touch. If she’d died, I would never forgive myself.
I stared at the withered grass as Arthur watered it. I hadn’t meant to show it. My pulse pounded—the curse had escaped again, even as I tried to trap it. Each activation left me hollow, shaking, covered in cold sweat. But there was a sick pleasure, a tendril of power that teased my soul. I shook my head, trying to purge the thought.
The Abyss’s voice echoed: “Use it. Embrace it. You are mine.” I clenched my fists, nails digging crescents into my palms. No. I refused. I would not become his puppet. But how could I hold onto myself when the darkness whispered to be free?
I pressed my face to the gss, tears blurring my vision. “Help me,” I wanted to scream. But no sound came. Only a silent plea.
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POV: Arthur Leywin
Mother called us for dinner. I found Aldric in his room, curled under his bnket, trembling. His small frame shook as he rocked back and forth. I knocked gently.
“Dinner,” I said.
He did not move. I crawled onto the bed and sat beside him. He tensed, waiting for me to flinch. I didn’t. I id my hand on the bnket between us. “Eat?”
He nodded, barely. I helped him down the dder and led him to the table. He ate in silence. Father told a story about his own first magic lesson, full of clumsy mistakes. Everyone ughed. Everyone except Aldric. His eyes stayed fixed on the bowl, his spoon trembling.
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POV: Aldric Leywin
Sitting at the table, I felt suffocated. The warmth from the hearth, the closeness of my family—it was a web, and I was the spider trapped at its center. Every fiber of my being ached to run, to escape this living cage.
When Father reached to ruffle my hair, I jerked away, pte tipping. Porridge sloshed onto the floor. A hush fell. Mother’s eyes widened. Arthur blinked at me, puzzled.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, voice cracking. I pressed my hands to my face, hiding the shame, the fear. My stomach twisted.
“Are you well, Aldric?” Father asked, concern wrinkling his brow.
I stared at the floor. “Tired.” It was the only lie I could tell that felt true. The curse burned me from the inside; sleep was sometimes the only relief.
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POV: Arthur Leywin
I watched Aldric crawl away after dinner, vanishing behind the study door. Father and Mother exchanged worried gnces.
POV: Aldric Leywin
That night, I y awake, feeling every breath like a drumbeat. The house was still, but the darkness pressed close. I slipped from my bed and crept to the window again. The patch of dead grass gleamed under moonlight, brittle and broken.
I pced my palm against the gss. The familiar wooing rippled through my fingers, soft and inviting. I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me. It tickled my nerves, like honey sliding down my spine. I craved it—craved the power, the escape. But I forced myself to pull away, colpsing onto the floor.
I trembled until dawn, until the first pale light chased the shadows away. And when the sun rose, I slid back into my cot, pretending to sleep.
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The year before my third birthday stretched on, each day a test of will. I learned to hide my trembling hands beneath bnkets or tucked between pillows. I practiced forming mana with Arthur, matching his peaceful breaths with my own, though my mind always lurked on that seductive darkness. Each small success in mana training brought hope; each crackle of curse energy brought despair.
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I would awaken my core. I had to. For Mother’s gentle smiles. For Father’s proud ughter. For Arthur’s pure, untainted desire to understand. I would become a normal person not a being of fear and sughter, I promised myself.
( This is my second time writing, I did try to write a fanfic before but gave up so I am trying again. I am new to writing but I am trying to keep the earlier parts of the story plot near, but there might be some inconsistencies. I will try to the progression simir to the original.)
