Disgraced Son

Kain walked slowly, treading through the snow. Step by step, he tried to familiarize himself with his body and this world.

Every breath burned cold in his lungs. Every motion felt foreign, heavy. Each time a flake of snow touched his skin, it melted like a whisper of another life fading away.

The northern wind was cruel this morning.

As gentle as the snowfall appeared, there was something in the air like a stillness, a deep foreboding of what was to come.

After twenty minutes of trudging through the frozen forest, the trees began to thin, revealing the faint outline of stone walls ahead. He pressed forward, boots crunching in the snow until he finally stood before it. A massive iron gate crowned with the sigil of two spears crossed above a silver wolf, fangs bared.

“Valemont Keep…” Kain muttered under his breath, a faint, humorless smile tugging at his lips. “Funny. It looks way cooler than the novel described.”

The ancestral home of House Valemont loomed before him. A fortress of gray stone carved directly into the cliffs of the north. Frost clung to its walls like a second skin, and spires of blackened steel pierced the pale sky. Torches flickered in the watchtowers, their orange glow casting fleeting warmth against the encroaching snow. Beneath that austere beauty, the keep radiated an unspoken pressure like a quiet warning that weakness had no place here.

Kain took a slow breath and stepped forward, passing beneath the gate’s shadow. The guards nodded briefly, which was more out of habit than respect. Kain Valemont was not someone worth acknowledging.

Kain walked through the halls, slipping through every crack and crevice, whispering of the storm to come. He stood at the edge of the training grounds, boots sinking into the frostbitten dirt, watching the knights spar in the courtyard below.

Steel clashed. Aura flared with the faint shimmer of power that danced like light on snow. Kain could feel it even from here, knights sparring with one another. Spear against spear, shield against shield, the biting chill of aura coursing through their strikes.

However, one stood out among them. Her spear held with experience, her breath consistent between dodges and parries. Her aura powerful, but controlled as she launch a wave of icicles towards her opponent.

Her opponent was Henry, a well known rising star in the Valemont family’s knights. A mid-level Aura Adept. He wears his confidence like a tailored jacket, impeccable, deliberate, and just a touch too smug. His short brunette hair is always neat, his brown eyes sharp with ambition and self-assurance. There’s an arrogance in his smile, as he knows how others see him. The “rising star” who is destined for more than the rest. Beneath that veneer of certainty, flickers something softer, his undeniable, if often poorly hidden, affection for Eira, the one person who can make his composure falter.

He raised his shield just in time, deflecting the barrage of icicles that shattered against its surface. The moment the last fragment fell, he dropped the shield to the ground and gripped his spear with both hands.

“Get ready, Lady Eira! This is going to hurt!”

A surge of aura flared around him, the air trembling as the ground beneath his feet began to quake. Stones rose and cracked apart as he leapt high into the air, his voice echoing through the field.

“Tremor Burst!”

His spear struck the earth with thunderous force. The ground erupted — jagged spears of stone burst upward, racing toward Eira Valemont.

She did not flinch.

Eira stood poised almost effortlessly, elegant, beautiful, and utterly lethal. Her black hair shimmered like obsidian beneath the pale sun, her mismatched eyes gleaming: one the soft gray of a stormy sky, the other a burning ember of red. She moved with measured grace, her spear tracing perfect arcs through the air, each motion sharp and purposeful. Frost followed in her wake, whispering across the ground.

As she sidestepped the first wave and pivoted, her left foot grounded, spear leveled forward.

“Echo Form One: Shattering Pulse,” she murmured.

In the blink of an eye, Eira vanished.

A heartbeat later, she reappeared behind Henry. The earth spears collapsed into dust, cleaved cleanly in half. Cracks splintered through Henry’s weapon before it shattered entirely, fragments scattering across the ground. His shoulder guards froze over, brittle with spreading frost.

Henry dropped to one knee, clutching his numbing hands.

“Argh… my hands… they’re freezing.”

He gritted his teeth, focusing his aura to dispel the frostbite creeping up his arms. Then, despite the pain, he laughed softly.

“Lady Eira…I admit defeat. That was a flawless display of Shattering Pulse. I still can not see through it.” He shook his head, smiling wryly. “Seems I’ve got a lot more training ahead of me. Hah.”

Eira twirled her wooden practice spear, its polished grain catching the morning light. The motion was fluid, before she let the weapon rest at her side and turned toward Henry.

He was still catching his breath, cheeks flushed as though whether from exertion or the sight of her calm, radiant face, even he couldn’t say.

“There’s no need to downplay yourself,” she said softly, her tone even but warm. “That was a fine spar, Henry. I look forward to the next.”

Her lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. But to Henry, it was a revelation.

Up above, in the shade of the upper terrace, Kain watched the exchange with a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Poor boy,” he thought dryly. “She really doesn’t know her smile could kill.”

And right on cue, Henry froze. His eyes went wide, his face turning a deeper shade of crimson.

“L–L–Lady Eira, th-thank you!” he stammered, words tumbling over one another. Then, in a sudden burst of resolve, he dropped to one knee, lowering his head.

“I swear I’ll train harder — hard enough to stand beside you as your equal one day. I won’t let you down.”

Eira regarded him for a moment, unreadable. Then she gave a short nod and turned away, her footsteps light on the stone floor. As she neared the exit, her gaze drifted upward and for a fleeting instant, her composure faltered.

“Kain,” she said, her tone edged with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Kain leaned lazily on the balcony rail, that same infuriating smirk playing at his lips.
“Why, to see you, of course,” he replied smoothly.

Eira exhaled, a faint trace of irritation ghosting across her otherwise calm features.
“Stay there. I’m coming up.”

Without another word, she continued on, her stride measured and composed.

Kain sighed, shaking his head with quiet amusement before finding a bench nearby. As he sat, a rare, thoughtful look crossed his face

'Eira Valemont. My… stepsister. At sixteen, she was already hailed as the next heir of House Valemont. The prodigy who had awakened her aura element before her tenth year. She now was sixteen years old at the peak of Aura Adept.’

Kain tightened his fist. Even now, it felt wrong to watch her. Not because of envy, but that emotion lingered like a stain he could not wash away because she reminded him of what he had lost.

Kain Valemont, the original one had once been close to her. She had been his shadow, always following, smiling quietly from behind. Her eyes bright and alive had looked at him like a brother, a confidant, perhaps something more. They had trained together, ate together, slept together, laughed together...until the day his pride began to rot. Until he couldn’t stand her brilliance any longer.

When Eira’s talent began to eclipse his, something inside Kain had fractured. He had started with small cruelties such as whispered lies to the maids, subtle remarks to discredit her victories, quiet poison slipped into conversation.

“She’s not true Valemont blood,” he murmured. “She can’t inherit, can’t master the family art. She’s an outsider pretending at grace.”

At first, Eira tried to reach him. She offered kindness, patience while believing his barbs were born of wounded pride, not malice. But the words grew sharper as the whispers turned to insults. The camaraderie that once defined them withered into silence.

And so, the light in her eyes dimmed. What once shimmered with warmth turned cold, unreadable, unyielding. Still, she never retaliated. Not once.

Her quiet composure infuriated Kain more than any counterattack could have. Her restraint was proof of the gulf between them, and he hated her for it. He never struck her openly as Kain was too careful for that. But every slight, every rumor, every injury from the shadows bore his signature and Eira knew.

Now, standing here in his skin, Kain could still feel the echo of that bitterness deep inside his chest.

Then came the sound of footsteps, which was steady, deliberate, echoing up the stairwell. The rhythm grew louder, closer, each strike against the stone landing like the measured beat of a drum.

Kain closed his eyes, drawing a slow breath as her presence neared.

‘This is me now’ he told himself. ‘I am Kain. No insecurity. No envy.’

He straightened, exhaling the last of his bitterness into the cold air.

‘She is my stepsister...someone I once laughed with, someone I once loved. Maybe that bond is not entirely broken. Maybe… there is still forgiveness.’

The footsteps halted just beyond the doorway. Kain opened his eyes and the past with all its warmth and ruin now stood waiting before him.