Waking up early was always a struggle for Tavish, but one he handled religiously. His responsibilities didn't allow him to sleep past sunrise. Still, today had been harder than usual. He had gone to bed late the night before, worried, waiting for his mother to return from her grueling night shift.
In the end, he hadn't managed to stay awake — he'd dozed off before she got home.
As soon as he woke, the first thing he did was run to her bedroom, anxious and in a rush. But when he burst into the room and saw she wasn't there, a deep sense of worry took over his chest, sending his heartbeat into a sprint.
Fortunately, the panic didn't last long. Running to the living room, he finally saw her — asleep on the couch, without a blanket or pillow, protected from the cold by nothing but her clothes. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her outfit was stained with blood and dirt.
Tavish let out a relieved sigh. Even so, seeing his mother in that state was a bit troubling. After all, she herself was proof that, just as he'd suspected, the previous night's shift had been just as draining as all the others — maybe even worse.
But at least she was safe, alive, and home. That was something, considering the dangers she faced in her work.
Tavish grabbed the coat that was barely covering her and adjusted it over her body. The moment he did, she jolted awake, startling Tavish and making him stumble back, almost falling.
"Damn it, Mom."
She froze for a moment, staring at her son's face like she didn't recognize him — her expression tense. Tavish could've sworn she was holding something under her coat. But when she finally realized who had woken her, she smiled.
"Oh. Morning, sweetie."
He exhaled.
"You really should sleep in your bed. That couch's gonna wreck your back."
She sat up and rubbed her temples.
"Sorry… Yesterday was insane. I collapsed here before I knew it."
"I can imagine. Let me guess—some lunatic went berserk again?"
She shook her head.
"Not this time. It was a coordinated hit. Someone robbed the castle vault."
Tavish raised an eyebrow.
"…The castle?"
She nodded.
"Yep. A group of mercenaries broke in during the night. Blew open the vault. Took some things."
His eyes widened.
"Wait, what? They actually got in and out of the vault?"
She hesitated a moment. Then she stood, arms crossed, staring at him seriously — the smile vanishing from her tired face.
"Why do you sound excited?"
"Because the vault's the most heavily guarded place in all of Velcaria. For someone to get in… they'd have to be insanely skilled—or powerful. Or both."
His mother flicked him on the forehead, frowning.
"This isn't something to get excited about, Tav. It wasn't just a robbery. It was a massacre. Dozens of guards died."
She grabbed his shoulders and turned him toward his room.
"Now go get ready for school."
Tavish wasn't thrilled about the robbery itself, like his mom seemed to think, but about the incredible abilities a group would need to pull off such an unbelievable feat. Even though he knew people existed who could shatter walls with a wave of their hands or blast doors open with a thought, it was still hard to imagine anyone getting into the castle vault.
But it didn't matter. Tavish would never be someone like those mercenaries. Not because he didn't want to. But because… he couldn't.
***
"Got everything?"
"Yeah."
"And your magic class supplies? You bought them, right?"
Tavish rolled his eyes.
"I figured it out, Mom. Don't worry."
She crossed her arms, giving him that motherly look of suspicion.
"I told you to buy them, didn't I? Don't skimp on this stuff. Just get what you need—my paycheck comes in next week."
He sighed.
"Alright, alright."
Facing the door, back turned to his mother, he raised a hand to wave.
"Later."
"I love you, baby."
His hand paused on the doorknob. A smile crossed his lips.
"I love you too, Mom."
He opened the door, still smiling. But the moment it shut behind him… The smile disappeared.
Time to face another day.
Descending the stairs of the crumbling three-story building he called home, Tavish took in the walls — dirty and old, lit by the faint glow of small oil lanterns — and the floor, scattered with bits of trash. The smell was a strange mix of wet wood and mildew. Not the worst scent he'd experienced — not by a long shot. Not compared to what waited outside.
He passed two drunk men slumped at the bottom of the stairs, stepped over a broken bottle, and pushed open the building's front door.
TThe sun hit his face instantly, blinding him for a second. But even sunlight couldn't hide the ugliness of the place he lived in.
The East District.
A place difficult to deal with, and usually disgusting to look at. Just gazing at its misery was exhausting and downright haunting — the kind of thing that made the hair on outsiders' necks stand. But to Tav? It was home.
The crumbling, cracked buildings on the verge of collapse. The sewage that ran openly through trash-filled streets. The nauseating stench of feces, urine, and blood. The battered people — drunk, high — staggering back and forth... It was all familiar.
This was where Tav grew up — where he had grown up, played, and run wild as a kid. And honestly… he didn't mind it. Even if it wasn't the ideal place for a child to grow up, it was his.
As he walked, memories flashed by. The bakery where he bought his first loaf of bread. The corner store where he got robbed — twice. The market where he shoplifted for the first time. They were all memories he cherished — even the bad ones.
But the familiar sights didn't last long. He lived in the northern part of the district, near the boundary wall. So, just a few hundred steps later, the slums were cut off abruptly — as if by divine hands.
A massive gray wall stood ahead, cold and imposing. It was the line.The barrier beyond which the East could not pass, the farthest edge the city's poverty was allowed to reach. And beyond which he had to go.
His school was on the other side.
Crossing the threshold, he felt the same as always — like stepping into another world. Everything seemed different, unreal. The gap between the two neighborhoods was so absurd it felt like the gods themselves had sliced the city in half, separating one side from the other with bare hands — no mercy.
The houses, the shops, the streets, the sidewalks in the Center were made of flawless stone and polished wood — beautiful buildings that looked like they'd been designed by divine architects. Everything was organized, everything was clean, and nothing smelled of urine or blood — but of bread, herbs... and coin. Even the sun seemed brighter there, the sky bluer, the flowers more vibrant.
Tav could smell the wealth in the air — the luxury. And no matter how many times he crossed into it, he never quite got used to it. He doubted he ever would. But he had to deal with it, one way or another.
Sanctum Academy stood in the southern part of the Central District, just a few kilometers from the castle. From its gates, he could see just how enormous and imposing the royal residence of Velcaria truly was, with its towering spires reaching into the sky, built from the purest white stone. Red flags fluttered from every peak, bearing the oppressive crest of the royal family.
It was… magnificent. So grand he'd never even imagined setting foot inside.
The academy, though smaller, was still large. Its campus spanned a large portion of the city's southern quadrant, with beautiful pine trees lining its vast gardens, majestic fountains decorating the gray stone walkways, and red banners everywhere.
At the grand entrance — supported by thick columns of pale stone — was the name carved deep into the wall: Sanctum Academy.
There were six academic buildings in total — one for each area of study: strategy, combat, culture, languages, mathematics, and, of course, magic.
They were all fairly similar in appearance — except the one where magic classes were held. Unlike the others, which were built from plain gray stone, the magic building was made from the same white stone as the castle, with thick, towering columns and red banners adorning its divine facade.
And today, that was where Tav would have his first class.
There were four floors in the building and several classrooms, all meticulously spaced out and categorized according to what was taught inside. Walking through the long hallways — adorned with elegant red carpets, delicately painted portraits, and luxurious dark oak furniture — Tav took a while to find his room on the second floor.
When he finally arrived and stepped in, dozens of eyes immediately turned to him. Eyes that, within seconds, shifted from curious to disgusted and hostile.
Thankfully, those stares didn't bother him anymore, just like the filth of the East District. He quickly sat down at his desk and waited for class to begin, ignoring everyone and everything.
There was still a bit of time before the professor arrived. But even that small window was enough for someone to bother him. Just moments after sitting down, a tall, handsome boy with crimson hair and eyes approached, flanked by two other boys, their expressions just as sickened as the rest.
"What are you doing here?"
This was Tav's second week attending Sanctum that year — his third semester in total. Even so, he remembered Cheirav's face perfectly — the new transfer student he'd had a heated argument with on the very first day, one that almost ended in a fistfight.
"I'm a student here. Aren't I?"
Cheirav scoffed.
"I told you, street rat. You don't belong. Get out."
Tavish crossed his arms, exasperated.
"I passed the entrance exam—same as you."
Cheirav slammed his hand on Tav's desk, hard, leaning in with an angry glare.
"That doesn't mean you deserve to be here."
The desk beneath his hand began to crack, thin lines splitting the wood like ice.
"I said get out."
Tav looked at Cheirav's hand, then up at him — calm. If he was bothered by the threat, he didn't show it at all.
"Or what?"
Cheirav stared him down for a while, fiery rage flickering in his crimson eyes. Eventually, though, he simply scoffed and turned his back. Looking over his shoulder at Tav, he muttered:
"You'll regret this."
Tav smiled.
"Uh-huh. Sure."
The professor entered the room moments later — the loud slam of the door echoing through the walls like thunder. Walking with heavy, deliberate steps, his hands clasped behind his back, he made his way to the platform at the front of the room.
He was an old man, deep wrinkles carving through his aged face, with a long white beard framing it — his appearance exuding experience and sharpness.
As he passed Cheirav on his way to the lectern, the boy bowed to him, as did the two who had accompanied him. They were the only ones still standing.
"Good morning, sir."
The old man stared at him with the lifeless gaze of someone who'd seen too much. And when he finally spoke, his voice cut like a blade:
"You should already be seated. Class is starting."
Tav could've sworn Cheirav flinched. And a quiet, almost imperceptible laugh slipped past Tav's lips. Cheirav clearly clenched his teeth, then muttered, irritated:
"Yes, sir."
The three boys sat down. The professor stepped up onto the platform and cleared his throat. The class began, and Tav's eyes fixed on the man in front of him with full attention.