The true beginning

The library's dim candlelight flickered against the vast rows of towering bookshelves, casting long shadows that danced with an eerie stillness. Dust motes drifted lazily in the golden glow, disturbed only by the occasional flick of an ancient page or the weighty silence that filled the room.

Seated across from Orion was a spectral projection—Gurran Ablaze, the once-mighty leader of the Secret Order. Though long deceased, his translucent form retained an aura of authority that demanded reverence. His voice, though distant and withered by time, carried a quiet weight that settled deep within Orion's chest.

"Our organization has existed for hundreds of years," Gurran stated, his tone devoid of embellishment. "Much of what you seek lies within these shelves. The knowledge you will find here surpasses that of any kingdom's scholars."

Orion remained silent, absorbing the gravity of those words as his eyes drifted over the endless books lining the walls. His fingers curled into his palm. Knowledge, he had always believed, was power—but now, he wasn't so sure.

"I, myself, have led this family for over two centuries," the projection continued. "There is no proof, but some of our old members claimed it was established even before that. Unfortunately, those who carried such claims are long gone, and their words may very well have been nothing but conjecture."

A ghost of a sigh escaped Gurran's lips. Then, with a subtle wave of his hand, he motioned towards a blackened chest resting in the corner of the chamber.

"Bring out the contents of the chest," he instructed.

Orion hesitated for only a moment before making his way to the heavy trunk. The iron hinges creaked in protest as he lifted the lid, revealing an assortment of objects nestled within the darkness. He retrieved them carefully and laid them atop the grand oak table between them.

The projection's gaze settled upon one of the two books—its cover adorned with delicate gold foil, intricate patterns swirling across its surface like flowing rivers of knowledge.

"This book," Gurran declared, his spectral finger hovering just above it, "contains everything you need to advance as a mage. Each time you reach a new stage, it will reveal what is necessary for further growth."

Orion's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you give it to me earlier?"

Gurran chuckled, though it lacked amusement. "The world is not a kind place, boy. Some knowledge is dangerous if acquired too soon. There are things that can kill you simply by understanding them—or worse, trap you in a fate more horrifying than death itself."

The weight of the warning pressed against Orion's chest like an iron vise. He swallowed hard, but nodded.

The projection's gaze shifted towards a torn piece of parchment.

"The other half of that map was hidden by the Zeral family, a house that has been nothing more than dust for decades," Gurran explained. "If you wish to recover it, you must scour the records stored in this library. Every clue we've gathered lies within these pages."

Orion traced a finger along the jagged edge of the map. "And where does it lead?"

Gurran offered a knowing smirk. "That, you will only discover upon finding the complete map."

Orion nodded slowly, shifting his attention to the remaining artifacts. One was a thick tome wrapped in black leather, its surface untouched by age, and the other—a small, obsidian box that radiated an unsettling aura.

"What about these?" he asked, motioning toward them.

"The box contains an artifact—one that took generations of rune masters to perfect. If the world knew of its existence, it could spark a war," Gurran stated solemnly. "It can only be wielded by someone with a radiant silver mana core, but its full potential is unlocked only by a white core mage."

Orion exhaled sharply. He had heard of white core mages before—legends, the kind that shook empires and forged kingdoms. To wield such an artifact was no small matter.

"As for the book," Gurran's voice faltered slightly, his gaze lingering on it longer than necessary. "No one in our lineage has ever managed to open it. But our ancestors left strict instructions—it must be protected and passed down, no matter what."

Orion reached for the black tome, its surface cool beneath his fingertips. The weight of generations rested within this object, its secrets locked away for an unknown purpose.

Gurran let out a slow breath. "These are the legacies of our order. And now, they are yours. You are the last descendant of our ancient bloodline."

A silence hung between them, thick with expectation.

"I hereby pass the rights of command to Orion Ablaze, the new master of this place," Gurran proclaimed, his voice echoing through the chamber. "The last heir of the Secret Order."

A sudden heat flared against Orion's right arm. He jerked back, pulling up his sleeve just in time to see glowing red runes sear into his skin, pulsing with a golden light before fading into invisibility.

The projection's form flickered, growing translucent, its presence thinning like mist in the wind.

"Lastly," Gurran's voice softened, a rare moment of genuine concern breaking through. "Your talent is monstrous, your potential beyond common sense. But remember this—many geniuses have died walking this path. No one is invincible. Not your enemies… not even you."

Orion frowned, sensing an unspoken depth behind the words.

A thought surged to the forefront of his mind. "The red flames in the treasury," he blurted. "What are they?"

The question struck Gurran like a physical blow. His spectral eyes widened in unmistakable horror, and for the first time, fear—raw and unfiltered—flashed across his face.

"Red? You saw them red?"

The last word, whispered in stunned disbelief, lingered in the chamber before Gurran's form disintegrated completely.

A heavy silence followed. Orion stared at the empty space where his grandfather had stood moments ago, his mind whirling with the implications of that final reaction. Never before had he seen the man unsettled. Never before had he seen fear.

Shaking his head, Orion slumped into the nearest chair. His body ached with exhaustion, his mind frayed from the sheer weight of everything he had learned. He closed his eyes, letting the weariness overtake him, and soon, sleep pulled him under.

Hours later, he jolted awake with a sharp inhale, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers instinctively sought out the pendant resting against his collarbone, grasping it tightly.

He exhaled slowly, pressing the cold metal against his palm, before slipping it back beneath his shirt.

Rising from the chair, he made his way to the washroom, indulging in the warmth of a long bath before filling his stomach with a proper meal. The simple comforts soothed the lingering unease in his chest.

Determined, he began to explore the facility, his admiration growing with every step. The sheer complexity of the runes carved into the walls left him speechless.

"No wonder they called themselves 'the Secret Order,'" he muttered under his breath, trailing his fingers across the ancient symbols.

He couldn't help but wonder about the dimensional portal that had led him here. Was such magic truly possible? His understanding of magic had been limited to the elemental affinities—but now, he realized how little he truly knew.

Gurran's words echoed in his mind.

'What you know is not even a speck of dust in front of the vast mysteries of this world.'

Orion clenched his fists. For ten years, he had lived beneath the shadows of others—his grandfather, his sister. Their wisdom had been his guiding force, but also his restraint.

Now, he was free.

No longer bound by the voices of his past, he stood at the precipice of a new journey. The choices, the dangers, the future—it all belonged to him now.

And for the first time, he was ready to carve his own path.