Much to his surprise, his father wasn't there.

No one was.

The room was empty.

Sebastian wandered around the cavernous space, his head on a swivel as he delved deeper inside. He had never been in the meeting room before. Only the twelve knights had access to it.

A smile bloomed on his lips.

Perhaps Amora was right.

He quickly pushed the thought down. He hadn't even made it through his first mission and was already thinking about becoming a knight. While he was confident in his skills as a caster, being top of his class among other students within House Tenebris, he couldn't let his arrogance get the better of him.

It worked when he dueled and trained, but this was different.

Lives would be on the line, including his own. He had to be focused.

Another breath left his mouth. Keeping his eyes peeled, he walked past the long, oval-shaped table in the center of the room. A dozen black chairs were situated around it—one for each knight. His father's seat sat at the end, larger and more decorative than the others. It was almost like a throne.

After all, Thorian was a king.

Not only of his own house, but of all magicians. If everything happened the way it was supposed to, Sebastian would be too one day.

A chill slithered down his back. Shaking his head, he continued through the room, running his hand along the cool walls as he waited for his father to arrive. As he continued, his eyes settled on a podium in the back of the room. He tilted his head upon seeing a stone hand sticking from the top of the stand.

Huh?

He approached with caution.

As he got closer, the air around him got colder. Unwanted memories of his mother surfaced in his head as he approached it. His steps faltered as a lump formed in the base of his throat. He tried to turn around, but it felt like a strong set of arms locked in place. He wanted to ignore it—whatever it was. But he couldn't. It drew him in like a fish caught on a rod.

Realization spread across his face upon seeing the object sitting in the palm of the stone hand.

The Obscurio. Controller of shadows and the dead. His house's Eldenarian Artifact.

He quickly stole a glance over his shoulder. The room was still empty. He was alone. For now.

Shivering slightly, he gazed at the gleaming black gemstone sitting atop the ring's iron band. He could feel the vitalae swirling around inside, buzzing with dark magic. Dark whispers filled his head.

Go on...take it...

Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned around. He pressed his hands to his ears and begged them to stop. His father would kill him if he caught him touching the ring. Only Thorian was allowed to wield it, for he was the current head of House Tenebris.

It wasn't his to touch.

But still... Immense power hid within that gemstone. The legends said the ring was capable of teaching the wielder of the darkest spells. He believed them. It was how his father had become the most powerful magician on the planet. If he could just hold it for a second, perhaps he could learn something that would help him on the night's mission.

He pursed his lips. Turning slightly, he glanced at the ring.

It beckoned him forward. The whispers returned. They were louder now, almost angry. Within seconds they had reached a fever pitch. Pinpricks stabbed at him from behind his forehead. Wincing, he reached out and snatched the ring off the podium.

The whispers vanished.

The coldness in the air disappeared as well.

Nothing happened for what felt like hours.

Knitting his brows together, he glared at the ring in his palm. It didn't feel very magical to him. Shaking his head, he slipped it onto his middle finger. It fit perfectly. Almost like it was made for him. Grinning, he stared into the black gemstone.

A wave of sadness crashed into him, nearly knocking him to his feet.

Darkness swallowed his vision, taking the room around him with it. He cried out and dropped to his knees, hands searching for anything and everything. The cold feeling returned, but much harsher this time. His teeth chattered as it infiltrated his skin. He felt like he was standing in the center of a raging blizzard.

Wheezing, he tried clawing the Obsucrio off his finger. It wouldn't budge. The ring was welded to his hand.

His heart dropped.

No, no, no. This can't be happening.

Sweat trickled down the side of his head as the panic settled in. He needed to get it off before his father arrived. But as he nearly yanked his middle finger off his hand, he realized it wasn't coming off anytime soon.

A woozy feeling overcame him. Memories followed.

His brows scrunched together as his vision returned.

He was sat at a table. Familiar faces surrounded him. Aunts, uncles, cousins. His sister sat at his side, dressed in her nicest dress. He looked down. His breath caught in his chest.

It was his eighth birthday again.

Looking up, he saw his mother's smiling face. Her bold, scarlet locks. Her brilliant, blue eyes. Tears welled in his eyes.

What is this?

No one answered him. More memories surfaced.

His eighth birthday was the worst day of his life. It was the last time he saw his mother. She had disappeared without a trace after the festivities. She hadn't even left a note. Sebastian was distraught. No one had a clue what happened, but people talked. He tried to ignore their gossiping growing up. Dwelling on the past was futile.

He had no interest in setting the story straight.

He didn't want to know the truth.

It was easier to be angry. Angry at her for leaving him with his father. He used that fire inside of him to fuel his magic, honing it in his dark spells and charms. She abandoned him, and he would never forget it.

Turning his head, he spotted his father.

He stood away from the party, lurking in the corner with a blank expression on his gaunt face. His eyes were trained on Xandra, his wife. Sebastian watched him, head tilted slightly. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the words turned to smoke. As did everything else.

The memory changed.

This time he stood on a balcony overlooking what seemed like hundreds of magicians in the central courtyard of the Eldenarian Palace. A golden cape billowed in the wind behind him. A black crown sat atop his black hair.

Unlike the previous memory, he hadn't lived through this one. Not yet, at least.

Glancing to his side, he saw a beautiful young woman—likely around his age—with smooth skin the color of polished onyx. She donned a glittering golden dress that hugged her curves. Her straight, black hair fell down her back in waves.

He stared at her in awe. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen

She smiled at him.

He knew her. A dam of emotions within him broke. Guilt rushed in first, filling every crevice of his being. Soon, confusion followed.

Before he could analyze the scene anymore, the memory vanished. The blackness returned. More whispers filled his ears, growing in volume with every word spoken. Through the harsh noises assaulting his eardrums, he picked out two words.

King. Prophecy.

They kept repeating it, beating it into his head until it was the only word he knew.

King? I'm not a king.

The whispers began chanting another word. Multiple words. They were forming a full sentence now:

Save the light...

Huh? The light? What light?

Before he could ask any more questions, the whispers faded. His sight gradually returned to him. His knees buckled, but he managed to stay on his feet. Panting as if he just sprinted a mile, he pulled the ring off his finger. Through widened eyes, he gawked at the piece of jewelry resting in his palm.

His mind was racing. He couldn't grab hold of a single thought echoing around inside his skull.

Hand trembling, he placed the ring back onto the podium.

"Sebastian?"

He spun around, a thin layer of sweat coating his pale skin. Swallowing hard, he stepped away from the stand holding the Obscurio. Wiping his face, he offered his father a weak smile.

The man stood on the other side of the room dressed in his Shade robes. His willowy, platinum hair had been shaved on the sides while the rest was tied into a long braid that fell over his shoulder. Dark thread had been woven between the silver strands.

His left eye, which was fully black, stared back at Sebastian with an air of suspicion.

"What are you doing back there?"

"N-Nothing, sir." He moved toward the center of the room. "I was waiting for you. Amora told me you wanted to speak."

Thorian nodded slowly. He gestured at one of the chairs around the meeting table. "Sit."

Sebastian did as he was told. He clasped his hands together and kept his eyes down.

His head was still reeling from what just happened. But he couldn't focus on that right now. It was almost time to embark on the mission. He couldn't let his father down. Not when he was so close to finally obtaining his respect.

"As I'm sure you're aware," Thorian began, "today we are finally retrieving the Illumio from our enemies. Once we have it, we can begin to collect the others."

"Yes, sir."

"But first, I wanted to make sure you were up for the task."

Sebastian lifted his chin, his jaw set and his eyes full of determination. "I won't let you down, father."

"We'll see." His father lowered his head slightly. "I want you to take the ring from her."

Sebastian froze. His eyes widened. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head. "From her?"

Thorian cleared his throat. He didn't speak, but Sebastian got the message.

His face fell. He felt like someone poured a bucket of sand down his throat. Quickly pushing his unease down, he nodded. The target of their mission. The wielder of the Illumio. One of the last surviving lightweavers.

His childhood crush.

Makaela Moreau.

He was going to have to kill her.

A pang of guilt stabbed his heart as he thought about their time together as children. All the children of the Eldenarian Council members were acquaintances due to their parents constantly working with one another. They attended academy together, often spending weeks on end at the Eldenarian Palace to learn magic.

Sebastian was never close with any of the others. Except for Makaela.

Even as children, the two of them had a special connection.

She carried a light within her that could brighten the darkest of rooms. It pushed away the darkness inside of him whenever he was near her. He recalled how his face would turn redder than a sun dragon's scale whenever he thought about her. He didn't love many people, but he loved her.

He never told anyone, not even his mother, about how he truly felt about her. He shrouded his affection for her by tormenting her whenever anyone else was around. She understood why. Apart from his mother, she was the only one who understood him.

When the purge began, just days after his eighth birthday, he cried for weeks.

He thought Makaela died with her parents.

That was before he knew the truth.

Pierre Moreau had been planning to attempt a peace treaty with the Arkangels—a group of ordinaires who were still aware of the existence of magic. With the use of cursed weapons, they hunted magicians and magical creatures alike. Killing them in cold blood.

They were the natural enemy for all magicians.

After studying an ancient prophecy, Sebastian's father learned of Pierre's plan. He couldn't let it happen. Peace was never an option with Arkangels. An argument at House Lumai's headquarters turned into a battle. People were killed, including Pierre. A battle ensued at House Lumai's headquarters.

That was the first day of Thorian's hunt for the rest of the Eldenarian Artifacts.

That was the first day of the purge of House Lumai.

Thorian claimed the purge was necessary. If the lightweavers wouldn't relinquish their artifact peacefully, it would be taken by force. The Order of the Black Lotus' mission was simple. They wanted to bring magicians to their rightful place in the world. For far too long, they had hidden from ordinaires. Lurking in the shadows of a world they used to rule.

But not anymore.

House Lumai was no longer an ally. Makaela was no longer Sebastian's friend.

She was an enemy. 

And if he had to kill her to please his father, then so be it.

Still, he couldn't get rid of the guilt pooling at the base of his stomach. The memories the Obscurio showed him wouldn't leave his head. The first one shown to him had already happened years ago. But the second? That was the future. He was sure of it. And as he recalled the face of the girl who had been standing beside him, he realized who it was.

It was her.

But what did it mean? Why did was it shown to him? And why did the whispers call him a king?

His eyes widened.

The prophecy...

"Can I count on you, Sebastian?" Thorian asked him, his gravelly voice pulling the boy out his thoughts.

Clearing his throat, he nodded. "Yes, sir."

Thorian smiled. A rare sight. "Good, good." He patted his son on the shoulder. "Meet the rest of us at the portal room in an hour." As he moved toward the exit of the room, he glanced at the boy. "Your destiny awaits, son. I hope you are ready."

"I am."

Am I?

Nodding, Thorian disappeared behind the purple curtain, leaving Sebastian alone yet again inside the room.

Releasing the breath that had been building in his chest, he groaned and buried his face into his hands.

Everything was suddenly a lot more complicated.