Cassian watched the Starlings bob and weave as they sparred against their instructors. It was barely the crack of dawn but training was already coming to an end. Starlings were often trained in the middle of night to build their connection to the moon. Many of them would be gunning for the vaunted Moon icon, and would need every bit of help they could get. Binding to an icon was as much a personal ritual as it was a magical one.
To bind to an icon is to pledge yourself to its concept and ideals. Mages take on a full embodiment of their icon, and if they can’t connect to it on a deep, personal level, the ritual’s effects would diminish. Such a ritual would result in a weaker mage, or even worse, a scarred mage.
As the early dawn light began to flow in through the gaping hole atop the arena, the Starlings began to flood out into the stands one by one. Many of them had just spent hours sparring against men and women many times their strength, size and age, and they were thoroughly worn out. Soon, these young men and women would retreat to their family homes. Those of the richer main line families would go on to expensive magic theory lessons and survival training for the upcoming Starling trials; the lesser branch family Starlings would have to make do by themselves.
One of the Starlings, a girl with droopy eyes and a glazed expression, caught Cassian’s eye. Elspeth Moon, a promising Starling from a branch family. He had watched her train, it was the only reason he came to the morning training at all. Even he was impressed, if not for her status as a branch family child, she’d likely be heralded as one of the House’s next big talents. The mana control and physical prowess she exhibited at her age was nothing short of impressive. Now he understood how she rose to the position of Heir Paramount in his past life despite being a branch member.
Jorian came from behind and took a seat next to Cassian.
“Enjoying the view, young master?”
Cassian took a second to stare at his face. “Jorian.” It’d been 12 years since Cassian last saw his old instructor, his sudden appearance was a blast of nostalgia.
“In the flesh,” he patted himself down. “I see you’ve got your eyes on Elspeth already. Good eye.”
“She’s impressive. Her magic missile’s already close to turning invisible.”
“I think it hardly matters compared to yours, Mr. Simul-cast.”
Cassian shrugged.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Jorian shifted in his seat. “Where’d you run off to, kid?”
“Who’s asking?”
“Me,” he said matter-of-factly. “And the elders. And a lot of other people too, actually. Bella’s parents are trying to convince the elders you’ve been brainwashed by House Sol and sent here to sow chaos.”
“Please.” Cassian chuckled. “Those muscle brains from House Sol couldn’t scheme past a sleeping dog.”
“True. But that still begs the question. Where did you go, Cassian?” Jorian’s mask of amusement fell to reveal the intensity that got him his position as a Crescent. “But more importantly, how did you get so strong?”
Cassian feigned a bored expression, but he knew this line of questioning was going to come sooner or later. Rumours of his return had spread like wildfire when he waltzed through the estate’s gates. Those same rumours had then exploded into a blazing pile of speculation after his reinstatement trial where he demolished six Adept mages in a row. There was no avoiding the suspicion coming at him.
“I’ve always been strong.”
“Also true. But I never taught you simul-casting, and if memory serves me right, just two years ago you were still barely getting the hang of magic missiles. Now? You’re knocking out Adepts with a perfectly casted magic missile. Tell me, Cassian. How does that happen in two years? How does a scared child running away from home, from the riches of the house and the best mages in the world, end up so strong?”
Cassian stood up, watching Elspeth leave the arena.
“You’re one of the few people I liked in House Moon before I left, Jorian.” He turned to look down at Jorian’s suspicious face. “But don’t forget your place. You’re just from a branch family.”
Jorian stood up with enough force to push Cassian back. “Do you really want to pick a fight against me right now, Cassian Eamon Moon?” he said, anger barely contained. “You don’t need me to remind you I’m an Adept, do you?”
“KNOW YOUR PLACE!”
Cassian’s response came out so suddenly and with so much vitriol that it shook Jorian’s soul, the feigned anger and confidence left his face immediately.
Jorian felt a sharp exhale leave him involuntarily as his Adept-rank body quickly calmed his nerves. “Fine. Keep your secrets, young master,” he spat out the last two words.
Cassian watched silently as Jorian left the arena. If his time outside the House had taught him anything, it was how little nobles truly knew of the world and how little their politics really mattered. Using his status as the scion of a main family to put down the branch family Jorian made him feel disgusted. It was antithetical to everything he learned from his time with Aria, and yet it was necessary. To fully utilise House Moon’s power and resources, he would need to quickly climb the ladders of the House, and that meant maintaining the status quo until he was high up enough to do it his way.
He sighed and hopped out of the stands. Quickly he ran down the path Elspeth had left from.
“Elspeth!”
