I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
The same dream again.
It had followed me since childhood — always the same.
Night. A campfire. And a girl with dark crimson eyes.
Always the same place, as if time itself had long since stopped there. We would simply sit by the fire, surrounded by a dense silence where there was neither past nor future.
And strangely enough, that was where I felt the most at peace.
In a way that reality could never offer.
No fear. No anxiety. No sense of danger.
Only silence… and her gaze.
At first, I thought it was nothing more than a child's imagination.
But years passed, and the dream never faded.
It only became too consistent, too persistent to remain random.
I still didn't know who she was.
Or why she always waited for me there.
But one feeling never changed.
This wasn't just a dream.
I exhaled heavily and sat up in bed.
Today was the day I had dreaded even in thought.
The day everything would be decided.
I am the prince of the Krey Empire.
And that title sounded almost like a mockery.
Because unlike my brothers and sisters, I had yet to manifest even the slightest trace of magic.
In this world, that alone was enough to become nothing.
I already knew how they looked at me in the castle.
Not openly.
But in pauses between words.
In delayed glances from servants.
In silence that stretched just a little too long when I passed by.
Today we were to undergo the talent examination.
Me. My brother. My sister.
And after that, the empire would decide what we truly were.
I couldn't help but let out a faint, bitter smile.
Prince of the Krey Empire.
It sounded almost ridiculous when stripped of everything except expectation.
But there was one story in this family that kept returning to me.
My father.
The only heir in the history of the empire born without magical talent.
Servants and nobles loved to remind me of that fact.
As if it were not an exception, but a warning.
He trained with the sword since childhood.
Until exhaustion.
Until pain became more familiar than sleep.
As if trying to carve out his right to exist in a world that denied him one.
When his lack of talent was confirmed, he was sent away.
Tasked with escorting his elder brother's fiancée to another kingdom.
Almost an exile.
Only neatly wrapped in the word "duty."
And yet, where most stories would have ended, his had only just begun.
During an internal uprising, when the royal family was placed in danger, he took command.
Not as a mage.
But as a man who had nothing left except will.
And in that moment, it became clear:
Power is not always born from a gift.
Sometimes it is born from the absence of choice.
I exhaled slowly.
His story inspired everyone around me.
But to me, it only pressed heavier.
Because I wasn't sure I could follow it.
And if I was honest…
I wasn't sure I should.
My gaze drifted toward the window.
Outside, dawn was just beginning to pale.
The talent examination had been held every year for as long as anyone could remember.
At the age of eighteen.
Without exception.
It was at that age that mana fully manifested within the body.
And only then could the world decide what you truly were.
The tool used for this was the Mana Stone.
An ancient artifact that had survived more eras than most dynasties.
The light elves called it S'gu.
They said it did not measure power.
It simply revealed the truth.
Whether there was a spark within you.
Or none at all.
A knock shattered the silence.
"Enter."
Servants stepped inside without a word.
White shirts.
Black trousers.
Movements precise, almost military.
They did not look directly at me.
But I could feel it.
That silent measurement.
The judgment no one spoke aloud.
One of them stepped forward, holding a folded set of clothes.
Ceremonial attire.
For the examination.
"I assume this is what I am to wear?" I asked, still weighed down by sleep.
"Yes, Your Highness," the servant replied. "For the ceremony."
Respect in his voice.
Distance beneath it.
I said nothing.
Let them help me dress.
When it was done, they left.
I remained alone.
And for the first time that morning, I looked into the mirror.
White shirt.
Black trousers.
And the crest of the Krey Empire upon my chest.
Two crossed swords.
A dragon coiling around them, frozen in eternal motion.
Strength.
Authority.
Legacy.
And a question no one ever dared to ask aloud.
How much longer was I allowed to wear this?
I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back.
And exhaled.
When I stepped outside, the guards were already waiting.
They bowed.
And we began to walk.
The castle was already awake.
But it was a strange kind of life.
Too controlled.
Too tense.
Servants moved faster than usual.
Guards were quieter.
The air felt heavier.
As if the entire palace was holding its breath.
Today was not just a day of testing.
It was the day the empire decided who was allowed to become its future.
Outside the windows, the capital was already gathering.
Crowds of people.
Commoners.
Nobles.
Those who came not for celebration…
but for judgment.
Magic stones across the capital were already active.
And every moment of this day would be seen by all.
The Krey Empire was not built on peace.
It was built on memory.
On war.
On the cost that no one had forgotten.
The Exodus of the Five Races.
The Great War that reshaped everything.
Since then, only one rule remained:
No one is allowed to break the balance.
Or the world will remember what war truly is.
I stopped by the window.
And looked down.
And in that moment, I understood:
Today, I would either become something…
or disappear as if I had never existed at all.