✴️ Phase 1 – When Lineage Breaks in a Whisper
It wasn't a different morning.
Same gray hall,Same faces passing by without looking,Same air that carried neither greeting… nor remembrance.
But something unseen…Had shifted.
**
When Kalidor entered the lower training hall,The hushed whispers of three students near the wall suddenly stopped.They weren't part of his group.He didn't know their names.
But their eyes said everything…Before they quickly turned away, as if looking at him was a breach of protocol.
**
That evening,During a synchronization drill,His training partner arrived late.
Then left after only two exercises.
On the third, he said:"I think you're better off with solo drills."
And walked away.
**
No words were spoken to him.
But silence… became a message.
And the academy halls, once full of chatter,Now split momentarily whenever he passed.
**
In one theoretical lesson,When a professor spoke about the importance of "pure blood" in deep magical resonance,A student seated behind him let out a faint laugh.
Followed by the scratching of a pen on paper beside him,Where someone had written — in a tilted hand:
"Son of who, exactly?"
**
The next night,He found a folded paper on his bed inside an unsealed envelope.It was blank… except for one line:
"Lineage… is not taught."
**
He didn't explode.He didn't speak.
He closed the door,Opened the window…And stared at the sky until night melted.
**
Inside him,It wasn't anger that stirred.But an old question… returning.
"Am I something one can claim?Or merely… a mistake delayed?"
**
In a side corridor,He saw Alyana walking with her group.
He could have called out to her.
But she didn't see him.Or… she did,And chose not to stop.
✴️ Phase 2 – Under a Face That Sees No One
Alyana didn't know when she began to shrink inward every time his name was mentioned.
Maybe it was when she saw the look in the history teacher's eyesWhen the name "Kalidor Arvalor" was read aloud during the evaluations—And the man sighed… as if the paper had laid upon him a burden he hadn't chosen.
**
Or maybe it was when she was late to her first Spectrum Arts class,And heard a classmate whisper with a stifled giggle:
"The son of… someone whose name is only written in the margins."
**
She didn't deny what she felt.
It wasn't anger,Nor sadness—But something colder.
Shame.
Shame at being connected to him.At the thought of someone saying… she was his sister.
**
She knew he was her brother,But the protocol didn't say "her brother."It said:
"Her sibling."
As if the system insisted on anchoring the lineage.Or correcting it.
**
In the first week of the term,She was exempt from joint attendance in the Gray classes,But one morning she passed by them—by chance.
And she saw him.
Standing alone near a cracked window,Reading something on the margin,His features… as still as old stone walls.
She didn't approach.She didn't call out to him.
But she felt his eyes meet hers for a moment.
And in that moment,There was nothing that resembled sibling warmth.No tenderness.
Only silence—As if he had grown used to not being awaited.
**
That evening, she returned to her wingAnd found Lyne sitting by the window,Sketching on a page filled with tangled lines.
Alyana asked softly:
"Do you like drawing?"
Lyne replied without lifting her head:
"I like seeing what isn't said."
**
A moment passed.Then Alyana asked:
"Do you have any siblings?"
Lyne hesitated,Then nodded:
"I have… a sister. But she's far away now."
Alyana gave a small smile,And whispered—almost as if she didn't want to hear herself:
"Sometimes…I wish you were my sister."
Lyne paused her drawing.Looked at her.But she didn't smile… and she didn't reply.
She simply… reached out,Took another paintbrush,And handed it to her.
**
That night,Alyana realized something she didn't know how to name:
That blood alone… does not make closeness.
✴️ Phase 3 – The Name Never Spoken Aloud
The name was often spoken…But never in front of him.
"The son of the lady… who was.""He was accepted for… reasons no one knows.""Her brother? I doubt it. Just look at his face…"
**
Lyne was never good at responding.Nor was she good at anger.But she listened.
And every time the name was mentioned,She would write the same word in her little notebook:
"Him?"
Then leave a blank space beneath it.
As if waiting for the answer to come from somewhere else…Not from the sentence itself.
**
One day,She was walking with Alyana through the stone gardenWhere general history lessons were often held.
The sun was gentle,And the earth still clung to the moisture of morning.
Alyana suddenly said:
"Lyne…"
Lyne stopped and looked at her.
"Do you think I… made a mistake?""In what?""In not answering him… when he looked at me."
Lyne didn't answer right away.She sat on the edge of the old fountain,Pulled out her notebook,Wrote something, then turned it to Alyana.
It read:
"Sometimes…Silence doesn't mean rejection.It just means we don't know how to speak the truthWithout causing pain."
Alyana read it,Then smiled softly—A wordless thank-you.
**
That very day,Lyne went herself to one of the Gray Wing classes.
She told the supervisor she wanted to "survey cognitive spectrum flow"—A term only used for individual evaluation sessions.
They agreed.
She entered the hall,And sat at the back row.
**
She saw Kalidor.
He didn't speak,But his eyes weren't lifeless.
He was writing something in an open notebook…But no one was watching him.
During the session,One of his spells exploded—as usual.Some students laughed,And the instructor cleared his throat.
But Lyne… was watching something else.
She saw that the gestures before the explosion…Weren't wrong.
They were precise.But… too much.
As if his hand wanted to do more than it was asked to.
**
In her nightly notes,She wrote:
"He's not weak…He just doesn't want to show he's strong."
Then closed the notebook,And placed it under her pillow.
**
The next morning,While passing through one of the corridors,She saw his name etched into the wall—Like a joke.
She stopped,Took out her pen,And wrote beneath it a single word:
"Enough."
Then walked away.
Not to change the world,But to declare—through her usual silence—That at least she didn't see him the way others did.
✴️ Phase 4 – From Behind the Glass
Light streamed through the glass ceiling...But never reached the floor.
That's how Alyana had been feeling for weeks:The light was present—But it never really touched her.
**
In her quiet wing, everything was elegant, orderly,And everything… fenced by rules.
"When you speak, watch your tone.When you're silent, watch your eyes.And when your family name is mentioned… never be the first to respond."
That's how Lady Valandor had taught her.
But that… wasn't what was weighing on her.
What occupied her thoughts…Was the one never mentioned.
Her brother.
Kalidor.
**
In the early days of the semester,His name was spoken casually in the academy halls.Then it became more clipped, abbreviated.
"The mysterious son.""The one who entered without patronage.""Half-blood?""The recommendation's son… not the throne's."
**
Then…It began to be said in low tones.
Then…In whispers.
Then…In front of her.
**
At first, she didn't understand.
Then…She began to feel it.
Words not directed at her…But striking a place inside her she couldn't name.
**
One morning, a fellow student said to her:
"You're strong, despite… your family situation."
She said it with a smile.
But it wasn't a kind one.
**
Alyana, still young, didn't understand everything.But she wasn't stupid.
She noticed:
Why did Kalidor never sit with anyone?
Why was he always looked at as if he didn't belong?
And why did the teacher never mention his name in class?
**
That evening, Lyne was brushing her hair as usual.Her hair was long, silvery, gently curved,And it carried more of her mother's light… than Kalidor's blood.
**
Alyana stared into the mirror and said:
"Lyne?"
Lyne answered gently:"Yes?"
"Do you ever wish… you had a brother?"
Lyne chuckled:"Don't I already have one?"
Alyana fell quiet for a moment,Then softly said:
"I wish… you were my sister."
**
Lyne stopped brushing.
She didn't respond.
But something flickered in her eyes…A look that wasn't easily explained,But said clearly:
"I understand."
**
The next day,Alyana walked past the great hall,Where the students were rehearsing the academy's anthem.
From afar, whispers turned into harmonies:
"Matushka Loraia… vel senn uriá…"
She stopped.
She didn't go in.
But she remained standing beside the stone wall.
She traced the cold stone with her fingertips…As if searching for a heartbeat behind it.
As if… waiting for a voice,Or an apology,Or an explanation,Or simply a single word:
"I'm here."
But the stone whispered nothing.
🕯️ Phase 5 – A Wall Between Us, Unseen
The corridor leading to the eastern courtyard was usually empty in the afternoon.But that day, a soft sound came from a half-open window:
"Dobra mira… angelloré…"
The voices of the students chanting the academy anthem in the upper training yard.That strange rhythm—a blend of inverted Latin and distorted Slavic—echoed as if the wall itself was singing along.
Kalidor stopped at the corner—not to reflect,But because he saw Alyana.
She stood with a group of students wearing the Royal Region uniform.Someone whispered something beside her, and she turned her head.
One glance.
Then she looked away, as if she hadn't seen him.
It wasn't the first time.
But this time… it felt clearer.
His hands dropped to his sides.He looked down, like someone who had just lost something inside.It wasn't anger… but a quiet collision with something he hadn't wanted to name.
Behind him, he heard soft footsteps.
It was Lyne.
She stopped next to him and saw the scene—without commenting.
Then, softly, she whispered:
"Don't be angry with her… she doesn't hate you."
He said nothing, didn't look at her.
Lyne continued, as if carefully arranging the words in her heart before speaking:
"Sometimes… when you're young and love someone,You're afraid they'll hate you if you don't match the picture they drew of you."
Then, after a moment of silence:
"She just… doesn't know how to protect you."
He almost said something.But he didn't.
He simply looked at his palms.There—where there was no blood.
Suddenly, a soft laugh rang from the courtyard.
Alyana was laughing with the girls.
Her laughter was pure…But in that moment, it sounded like something that had nothing to do with him.
Lyne stepped away, her voice barely a whisper:
"If I were her…I would've wished you were my brother."
Then she walked on.
Leaving him behind.
And he—left his shadow in the corner, as he always did.
But this time…He wasn't sure if he was the shadow—Or the one being left behind.
🕯️ Phase 6 – Behind the Transparent Wall
The upper glass chamber was only opened for elite meetings.
Five chairs.Five faces—poised in elegance.
At the center sat Emaniel Dar Veyren, acting chair of the council—a tall young woman with snow-white hair arranged like icy talons.Her gaze held a soft disdain for anything invisible.
To her right sat Jace.
He didn't smile.He didn't speak unless prompted.
Emaniel opened the meeting with a statement that didn't sound like a question:
"The son of House Valandor… was transferred from Arvalor Castle three years ago. And to this day, no official document confirms his direct lineage."
One member replied:
"But his name is clearly recorded. Lord Darval's signature is there."
Emaniel responded without turning her head:
"A signature? Who's to say who wrote that?We are an institution that recognizes blood, not ink."
Another member asked:
"Has anyone formally objected to his presence?"
For the first time, Jace moved.
He spoke calmly:
"No one has objected… but he has yet to prove anything worth staying for."
Emaniel glanced at him, seemingly surprised he chose to speak.
But she didn't interrupt.
He continued, his tone unchanged:
"A direct expulsion would cast doubt on us.Better to let his file… reflect insufficient merit."
Then, looking toward the window, he added:
"Let him fall on his own."
Someone chuckled and said:
"He's already falling.He just hasn't heard the sound of impact yet."
Emaniel was silent for a few seconds.
Then she concluded:
"Very well, we proceed with subtle redirection… no expulsion."
Before closing the file, she muttered in an old tongue:
"Varnara del luminé…"
A phrase from the ancient internal court language, meaning:
"Let him see for himself… just how invisible he is."
Outside the chamber,The only shadow cast against the far wall—Was Kalidor's.
Standing there,As if nothing had been said—Yet everything had been heard in his heart.
🕯️ Phase 7 – Between the Unspoken Words
The night was clearer than usual—But not comforting.
On the western edge of the academy's rooftop,Where the tall windows never opened,And the stone was shaded in a gray no one ever noticed,Kalidor stood,Staring into the distance.
There was no moon.
But the light reflecting from the inner hallsCast his shadow longer than it should have been…Longer than his body,Longer than his past.
Then—Footsteps.Steady. Measured.
Lysa.
She came without armor,Wearing a simple training robe,Her hair still damp—As if she'd just stepped out of the baths.
She didn't speak at first.
She stopped one meter from him,And looked out into the nothing with him.
He said, voice rough:
"Why do they always say… my sibling?Why not just my sister?"
Lysa didn't answer immediately.
Then, slowly, she said:
"In official records…'Sibling' is used to assert legal blood ties."
Then she added, almost whispering to the stone wall:
"And because…They don't want doubt to fall on her name."
He turned to her.
For the first time in a week,He looked into her eyes.
He asked:
"Do you think I'm illegitimate?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know.But even if you are… what does that change here?Blood isn't written in ink…But it's branded."
He was silent,Then muttered:
"I don't want to be a shadow…Or a stain.Not even an echo."
She looked at him, and said:
"And I… don't see you as any of those."
Then she smiled—A faint smile, as if it slipped off her lips, rather than rising from them.
She added:
"You just like to walk alone…Even when the road is full of people who are just like you."
In that moment,They heard, faintly, a soft hum from below…From the lower floor,Where the royal section students were training.
A faint humming—
Then, gently, a line from the old hymn rose:
"Svet'ma… gloria, dalara…Lumen dei… arven'da…"
Then it stopped—As if someone had entered and cut the chant short.
Lysa said:
"Even the hymns here are never sung to the end…"
Kalidor replied, in a hushed tone:
"Maybe… because they don't belong to us."
✴️ Phase 8 – The Shadow That Isn't Seen
Kalidor didn't count the days.But the ceiling he stared at every night…Seemed to remember his face more than he did.
It had been two weeks since the rumor began to spread.Never confirmed.Never denied.Yet it grew—Like moisture between old stones:Unseen,But its presence could be smelled.
In the General Performance Evaluation Hall,Kalidor sat in the last row.At the back—Where no one asks questions,And no one expects answers.
"Student Al Valandor, kinetic fusion exercise?"The instructor spoke with a tone that didn't carry his name—It dropped it, as if it were too heavy to bother with.
He rose slowly.Walked to the platform.Took the pre-modified spell from the mana chart,And pretended he didn't know the stage sequence.
— A faint murmur behind him:"That's him? Al Valandor's son? Doesn't even look like one…"
— Another voice, sarcastic:"Relax, he's right where he belongs… Shadows don't need lineage."
He raised his hand.It didn't tremble.But he chose to delay the incantation.
The result:An unstable spark.As if the mana surged… then pulled back.He snuffed it out before it could ignite.
"Insufficient."The instructor said, without lifting his head.
Kalidor returned to his seat.He sat.
Then, without turning,He heard a familiar whisper behind him:
"You know… sometimes, I wish I'd never met you."
It was Alyana.
She wasn't shouting.She didn't cry.But her voice… was far too clear to ignore.
He didn't respond.Didn't look at her.
Instead, he thought quietly, bitterly:
"Maybe… that's for the best."
That evening,Alone in the gray wing,He opened an old book—not from the curriculum.
A folded page.An ancient inscription:
"If you are not seen, you will not be judged…But if you wish to remain,Never show all your strength at once."
He smiled faintly.Then closed the book.
In his mind,Another sentence echoed:
"If you want them to believe you're weak…Choose your moments carefully."
✴️ Phase 9 – The First Passage (The Gray Wing)
The line stretched beneath the shadow of the northern wall…Harsh, like it was the final wall before exile.
The observers' eyes never blinked.Whispers floated—filled more with contempt than sarcasm.Even the air itself seemed to force silence upon them…As if speaking might cost them something.
Kalidor stood in the fifth row.His shoulders too relaxed,And his wooden sword held as though it were a burden—not a weapon.
A few steps away, Lisa sat—Not speaking, not openly watching,But seeing… everything.
"Whose son is he?""The son of silence—unclaimed by anyone.""Mixed blood… and a face without a shadow."
They whispered. He heard them.But he said nothing.
💥 The Call to TrialThe instructor entered, his robe darker than the tone of his voice:
"Trial: Tactical Elimination.Three attacks. Three choices.Ten seconds… to prove you deserve to stay."
The students moved in silence.
Kalidor didn't.
When his name was called,He walked forward heavily—As if the earth itself resisted his steps.
He stood in the ring.
The first opponent charged.His reaction—slow.
A strike to the shoulder.A shudder… then stillness.
The second opponent tried to flank him.Kalidor blocked—But without precision.
Then came the third.Fast. Ruthless. Without mercy.
Suddenly—The sword moved.
Not with elegance.But with a surprising sharpness.
He struck from the side.The opponent stumbled—But didn't fall.
Silence.Then the instructor's voice—cold, unreadable:
"Survived… but unremarkable.Nothing of note."
He stepped back.Sat on the stone threshold.
Beside him… Lisa.
She didn't speak.But he said, in a quiet breath:
"Was that enough… not to be expelled?"
She answered, without turning:
"Enough to remain.Not enough to be admired."
Then, from far away…The academy's anthem echoed faintly through the open corridors—As if sneaking in through an unseen window:
"Gloria… Virel luná… malen'dei…""Lia thura… shen vara…"
Melodic whispers,As if they rose from deep within the mind—Not from voices.
But before the melody could continue,A sharp voice called out:
"Next up—Lisa Vainsteel!"
The song cut off.
Kalidor didn't look toward the call,Nor at the sky that had begun to cloud.
He only looked at his hands—And in them,He saw a power…Whose time had not yet come.
✴️ Phase 10 – "The Closest... and the Farthest"
The air was still…And the sky hung over the gray corridor,As if undecided whether to rain—Or simply wait.
Kalidor sat on the old stone steps,In front of the back gate that led to the secondary garden.A place rarely visited by anyone.
But the small footsteps did not miss him.A soft rustling—And Aliana appeared.
She wore her short twilight-colored cloak,Her hair draped carelessly, her blue eyes as he remembered them…But now, there was something else in them.
She stopped a few steps away,Silent.Then asked, in a quiet voice:
"Are you… okay?"
He lifted his head slowly,He didn't smile.But his voice came out calm:
"I'm always okay… when no one notices me."
She acted as if she hadn't heard that.Then stepped closer and sat beside him—Without touching him.
"Why do they talk about you like that?They say… you're not one of us."
He looked at her.And for the first time…He didn't know what to say.
"Do you care about what they say?"
She hesitated before replying:
"I don't know…But they keep saying I'll end up like you."
Then she fell silent—Before adding:
"Is that… bad?"
He gave a short smile,More sorrowful than reassuring.
"Only if you believe it."
Then he looked forward and said:
"You know…I never tried to be something…I just wanted to… exist."
Aliana lowered her gaze.She said in a trembling voice:
"I'm trying…Trying to be good."
"And you are."He said it gently.
Then added:
"The only difference is… you started from the light.And I… started from the dark."
She went quiet,Then suddenly stood up, turned around:
"I don't understand you!"She yelled.
"I don't understand why you act like you don't care…Like everything is normal to you,Even when it becomes… ugly."
He turned toward her,And replied in a soft voice:
"Because I don't want you to carry that ugliness.I'm enough of it."
But like any child,She couldn't fully grasp it…
So she screamed suddenly,With all the pain words couldn't hold:
"I hate you!"
Then she ran,As if fleeing from her own shadow.
And he remained there,Unmoving.Neither sad… nor smiling.
From behind the walls…A distant echo rose.
The kingdom's anthem—fragmented lines drifting through the corridors:
"Gloria... zolotoe serdtse…"(Glory… to the heart of gold…)
And in the far corner of the hallway,Lyn stood alone.
She had watched it all,Then whispered silently inside herself:
"One day… she'll know she never hated him.She was only… afraid of becoming like him."
✴️ Phase 11 – The One We Do Not See
In a place where names are not spoken,And no signs are carved on the doors,Footsteps covered in dust moved quietly…But the earth recognized them.
The wall was damp,And light seeped through a crack—One that only opens for those who know.
Etched into a rusted metal plate:
"Those who know… do not ask."
Inside,A man sat on an old chair,His face cloaked in shadow,But his eyes—Unblinking,As if he hadn't blinked since the day he was born.
A quiet voice came from the corner:
"Did you bring the information?"
There was no reply.
He placed something on the table,And simply said:
"I… observe."
As he turned to leave,Someone behind him whispered,Like a prayer:
"The return of the one who is not observed…That's when chaos begins."
And then—The scene faded to black.
Afterword – A Whisper Beyond the EndSo… you've made it. Through the shadows, the whispers, the questions unasked.You saw Kalidor—not just the boy they tried to erase,But the silence that walked with him.
If this story moved you even a little—if a sentence stayed in your chest longer than it should—then don't let it vanish like a forgotten name in a sealed archive.
Stories like this grow not just by being written,but by being seen.
If you believe this tale deserves a place among others,please consider giving it a rating—whether praise or critique.Or maybe a small push of energy, a Power Stone,to help Kalidor walk just a bit further.
And if you wish to keep the story close,add it to your collection—your library, your world.Because sometimes, all a story needs… is a witness who cared enough to remember it.
Thank you—truly—for being that witness.