CAIUS: Crown of Threads and Shadows

For three days, Caius had been personally trained by his father.

The lessons began early and continued until his body was exhausted. Cullum did not allow him to rely solely on his eyes or his instincts. Every movement had to be understood before it was made. Every attack had a beginning, and that beginning could often be seen in the flow of mana beneath the flesh. Caius spent hours practicing Far Sight, learning to establish a mental lock on the mana core of a target within twenty meters. At first, maintaining the lock on his father for more than a few moments left his eyes aching, but each day he endured a little longer.

Inner Sight proved even more difficult. Cullum would attack without warning, forcing Caius to observe the movement of mana throughout his body rather than the position of his limbs. A concentration of mana in the shoulder could signal a strike. A sudden shift toward the leg could reveal an incoming step. Sometimes Cullum deliberately allowed his physical posture to suggest one attack while his mana prepared another, forcing Caius to ignore what his eyes expected and trust what the Eye of the Loom revealed.

By the third day, Caius had begun to understand the difference.

He was still unable to defeat his father, but he was no longer fighting blindly. During their morning spar, Caius saw the subtle surge of mana moving through Cullum’s right leg and realized that his father was preparing to kick. Instead of reacting to the movement itself, he shifted his weight before the attack came, allowing the boot to pass beside him. He immediately countered with his wooden sword, aiming for Cullum’s ribs, but his father turned aside and caught the strike with his wooden longsword.

The exchange continued for several moments before Cullum finally knocked the wooden sword from Caius’s hands. Even so, the older man’s expression held something that had not been there on the first day.

Approval.

”You are beginning to see the difference,” Cullum said.

Caius bent down to retrieve his wooden sword, breathing heavily as sweat ran down the side of his face. ”I can see the mana before you move sometimes.”

”Sometimes is not enough.” Cullum rested the wooden longsword against his shoulder. ”An enemy will not wait for you to become comfortable. You must learn to maintain your vision while moving, while attacking, and while defending. The moment your concentration breaks, your advantage disappears.”

Caius nodded and tightened his grip on the wooden sword.

Before Cullum could continue the lesson, the heavy doors of the training hall opened. Neither of them had heard anyone approaching.

Caius turned toward the entrance and immediately recognized the figure standing in the doorway. The dark elf was tall and lean, with dark skin, long silver-gray hair tied loosely behind his head, and narrow crimson eyes that reflected the torchlight. He wore a dark cloak over fitted black leather light armor, the armor designed for movement rather than protection. A short bow rested across his back, while several knives were concealed beneath his cloak. His clothing was plain and practical, giving him little presence despite the deadly weapons he carried. He looked nothing like a soldier, and that was precisely how he preferred it.

His name was Sereth.

The dark elf had been with the Macrae family for decades, long before Caius had been born. Nobody in the castle truly knew why he had remained. He was not one of Cullum’s soldiers, nor did he belong to the castle guard. He had never sworn an oath to serve the Macrae family, and Cullum had never issued him orders in the manner he commanded his own men. Sereth simply appeared when he was needed and disappeared when he was not.

He performed the scouting and reconnaissance duties around Castle Precipice, sometimes vanishing into the mountains for days before returning without explanation. The only person who knew the real reason he remained at the castle was the castle lord himself. Whenever anyone asked Sereth why he stayed with the Macrae family, his answer never changed.

”I like it here.”

That was the entire explanation.

Caius had taken to calling him the loafer because Sereth seemed to spend as much time sitting in shadows, leaning against walls, or sleeping in places where nobody could find him as he did actually working. Yet whenever danger approached, the dark elf somehow knew before anyone else.

Sereth entered the chamber and glanced at Caius before looking toward Cullum. ”I found something.”