Rebirth of a Fey Lord

Eogan flipped through the aged pages of the book he had borrowed from his father's study, his room bathed in the soft amber glow of late morning. The heavy tome smelled of old parchment, and the faint scent of ink lingered, tickling his senses. He leaned closer to the desk, his silver hair brushing the book's edges as he read a passage detailing the ancient art of taming monsters through mana synchronization.

"It says here," Eogan murmured, his emerald eyes scanning the text, "that early tamer didn't just bond with creatures—they communicated spiritually. Their mana flowed together like rivers converging into one current."

Leanan perched on the edge of his desk, her tiny, glowing form radiating a soft green light. She tilted her head, her lace-like wings fluttering slightly as she listened. "That sounds a lot like what we used to do in the old days, doesn't it?" she said, her voice as light as a breeze.

Eogan nodded, tracing the lines of the text with his finger. "It does. But this book only scratches the surface. There's so much it doesn't say… like how to actually do it." He leaned back with a sigh, frustration etching lines into his youthful face. "I need more than just theories for a book to be any good for teaching Lorcan."

Before Leanan could respond, the faint sound of a carriage's wheels crunching against gravel reached his ears. He glanced up, his curiosity piqued. "What now?"

The door to his room creaked open, and Lorcan's head poked in. The boy's brown hair was slightly disheveled, and he had a faint smear of dirt on his cheek from his morning chores. "Eogan, there's a carriage outside," he said. "It looks… important. Your father's already greeting the visitor in the study."

Eogan closed the book with a soft thud, his interest piqued. "Important, huh?" He stood and stretched, the stiffness in his shoulders easing as he prepared to leave. "Let's see who's come to call."

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In the grand study, the air was thick with the scent of polished wood and aged leather. Lord Dubhan stood near his desk, his posture commanding as he faced the newcomer. Magister Caerwyn cut an imposing figure, his robes of deep blue embroidered with intricate silver sigils that shimmered faintly in the light. His presence exuded authority, and his sharp eyes seemed to pierce through anyone who dared meet his gaze.

Eogan entered, his steps confident despite the imposing atmosphere. Lord Dubhan's eyes flicked to his son, and though his expression remained stern, there was a glimmer of approval in his gaze. "Eogan, this is Magister Caerwyn," he said. "He's come from the capital's Royal Academy of Arcane Studies."

Magister Caerwyn turned, his gaze appraising as he studied the boy. "Eogan Dubhan," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "I have heard much about you. Your mana meridians have drawn significant attention in academic circles."

Eogan's brows furrowed slightly, but he remained composed. "I didn't realize I was such a topic of interest," he said, his tone polite but cautious.

Caerwyn's lips curved into a faint smile. "Exceptional cases often are. Children with fully developed mana meridians are rare, and your potential is… intriguing." He gestured to the chair opposite Lord Dubhan's desk. "May we sit? This discussion warrants some detail."

The conversation flowed like a negotiation. Caerwyn explained the Royal Academy's purpose: to nurture exceptional talents and provide them with resources to reach their full potential. He painted a picture of grand libraries filled with ancient tomes, laboratories brimming with arcane tools, and the opportunity to study under some of the kingdom's greatest minds.

Eogan listened intently, but his mind buzzed with questions. He glanced at his father, whose stern expression betrayed little of his thoughts. Then, as if sensing Eogan's internal debate, Caerwyn produced a small orb from his robe. The crystal sphere glowed faintly, its surface etched with runes that pulsed with a gentle light.

"This," Caerwyn said, "is an artifact we use to measure magical aptitude and control. Would you allow me to test you?"

Eogan hesitated, feeling Leanan's reassuring presence on his shoulder. She whispered, barely audible, "You've got this, Master. Show him what you're capable of."

With a slight nod, Eogan extended his hand. Caerwyn placed the orb in his palm, and the room seemed to hold its breath. Eogan closed his eyes, focusing on his mana as he had practiced so many times. A warmth spread through his hand, and the orb began to glow brighter, its light shifting from a gentle blue to a vivid emerald. It pulsed rhythmically, a steady beat that filled the room with a low hum.

Caerwyn's eyes widened slightly, though he quickly composed himself. "Remarkable," he murmured. "Your control is far beyond what I expected for someone your age."

Lord Dubhan's expression remained unreadable, but his fingers tightened slightly on the armrest of his chair. "What does this mean for my son?" he asked, his tone measured.

"It means," Caerwyn said, "that Eogan's potential is extraordinary. At the Academy, he could refine his abilities and perhaps even unlock talents he has yet to discover. With proper guidance, he could become one of the most powerful mages of his generation."

Eogan's mind raced as Caerwyn explained the benefits of attending the Academy. Access to unparalleled knowledge. The chance to meet others with unique abilities. Training that could elevate him far beyond what he could achieve alone. But with each promise, a seed of doubt grew.

He thought of his past life as a fey lord, memories of magic and nature flowing in perfect harmony. Would the Academy's teachings align with what he sought, or would they pull him further from the path he needed to walk?

"I'll need time to think about this," Eogan said, his voice steady. "It's not a decision I can make lightly."

Caerwyn inclined his head. "Of course. I will leave a dossier with detailed information about the Academy. I will return in one week for your decision." He stood, his presence still commanding despite his polite tone. "Thank you for your time, Lord Dubhan, Eogan."

Lord Dubhan rose to escort him out, leaving Eogan alone with his thoughts. Leanan appeared on his desk, her tiny form shimmering with concern. "What do you think, Master?" she asked softly.

Eogan sighed, his gaze distant. "I don't know, Leanan. The Academy sounds like an incredible opportunity, but… I can't shake the feeling that it might not be my right path."

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Later that evening, Lorcan knocked on Eogan's door, his expression hesitant. "Mind if I come in?" he asked.

Eogan gestured for him to enter, and Lorcan sat on the edge of the bed. "So, what did the visitor want?"

Eogan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "He wants me to go to the Royal Academy in the capital. Says I have… potential."

Lorcan's eyes widened. "The Royal Academy? That's… incredible. Are you going to go?"

Eogan hesitated, then shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. There's a lot to consider."