Morning light streamed through an open window, warming the pale skin of a shirtless young boy as he rifled through a neatly stacked pile of clothes. His expression remained unchanged—determined—as his eyes stayed locked on the clothes before him.

  "Where is it... where is it..." he muttered, barely aware he was speaking aloud.

  One by one, he tossed clothes aside until, after several rushed movements, he yanked out a white tee and raised it high.

  "There it is!" he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  He quickly pulled it over his head, tucking the bottom into his waistband. Checking himself in the mirror opposite his bed, he shrugged.

  Not bad. Could be worse, he thought, nodding to himself.

  He had woken up only moments ago and rushed to clean himself up, making sure his hair was at least somewhat presentable. Today was the day, after all.

  Glancing down at his arm, he tapped against the silver watch that adorned his wrist. A holographic screen flickered to life, displaying the time, weather, and the state of his mana core. He barely had time to register the details before a cheerful voice rang out from downstairs, startling him.

  “Finn! You better be awake! Your breakfast is ready!”

  Sighing, he grabbed his belt from the top of the clothes pile.

  Fumbling with the buckle, he scanned his cluttered room, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything essential. His gaze landed on his unmade bed, and a small smile crept onto his face.

  Fastening his belt, he closed his eyes, clasped his hands together, and whispered a soft incantation. A gentle breeze stirred, swirling through the room before rushing toward the messy covers. In seconds, the sheets straightened themselves, the fabric smoothing out as if tucked by invisible hands.

  Finn grinned. The simple breeze spell was one of the first he'd learned, and despite being a basic chore spell, it was still ridiculously useful. The spell barely dented his mana reserves, leaving only a faint tingle in his chest. For what it cost, it was totally worth it.

  With a final scan of his room, he nodded in satisfaction and grabbed the handle of a small brown suitcase tucked in the corner. Extending the handle, he wheeled it behind him as he stepped toward the door. The suitcase thudded behind against each stair as he descended.

  His mother, hearing the clumsy racket, met him at the bottom with a warm smile.

  “Good morning, dear,” she greeted softly, running her tanned fingers through his neatly combed hair, ruffling it just enough to annoy him. “Breakfast is waiting on the table.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Finn replied, quickly smoothing his hair back into place. “What is it?”

  She wagged her finger playfully. “Had to make your favourite, of course! It’s a special occasion.”

  His eyebrow twitched.

  My ‘favourite’?

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  He knew exactly what she meant. And it was not what he would have hoped for. Still, he wasn’t about to tell her that.

  Forcing a smile, he muttered a simple thanks, although his previous enthusiasm was nowhere to be seen.

  When am I finally going to tell her? He joked internally.

  As they walked down the narrow hallway, Finn’s eyes caught on a framed portrait hanging among the others. His chest tightened.

  Why does she still keep his picture up?

  His father hadn’t been home in years, yet there he was, still smiling from the wall. The deep purple robes he wore had once filled Finn with admiration. Now, they were just a painful reminder. A symbol of something he no longer wanted to remember.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced the thought away. No need to let him ruin my day.

  Finally reaching the kitchen, Finn slid into his seat, staring at the warm bowl of porridge waiting for him. He hesitated, then reluctantly dug in.

  He could lie and say he enjoyed it, but he simply couldn’t. He hadn’t enjoyed the stuff in years.

  His mother watched him with a soft, expectant smile. Finn gulped, glancing up at her before quickly looking back down at his bowl.

  Yeah… telling her would be impossible.

  ---

  After finally finishing his almost inedible breakfast, Finn placed his empty bowl in the sink. Pressing a rune-inscribed button beneath the faucet, he channelled a trickle of mana into it. At once, water surged into the sink, scrubbing the dishes clean.

  He watched for a moment before turning back to the table. As he slid into his seat, an unshakable thought surfaced.

  His father.

  Finn’s gaze drifted to the hallway, to the portrait that refused to be forgotten. His father’s purple robes flashed in his mind, along with the once-familiar smile he used to trust.

  His stomach churned. He hesitated, then spoke.

  “What’s his excuse this time?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Finn flinched. His mother’s immediate response caught him off guard.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I tried… but he made the usual excuse. Work this, work that…” She trailed off, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the table. Her gaze drifted, the sparkle in her brown eyes dimming.

  Finn sighed. Damn that joke of a father. Could he not do even the simplest thing for our family?

  “It’s not your fault, Mom,” Finn tried. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to know if—”

  “I know,” she cut him off, pressing a hand against her face.

  Finn bit his lip. Seeing her like this hurt. A lot.

  If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be like this.

  Ever since his father left, his Mom’s phases of moments of sadness came and went. Finn had long bottled away his own feelings, or at least he was confident he had, yet his mother could not. The pain he caused their family was unforgivable.

  Nothing could reignite the admiration he once had for his father.

  His father had been his inspiration. Finn had always wanted to be a spell-slinging mage like him, travelling the world, casting miracles. Now? Now he wanted to be better than him. A real man. Someone who didn’t abandon his family.

  The silence between Finn and his Mom was thick, stretching uncomfortably. Finn shifted, fingers tapping lightly against the table. He needed to do something—anything—to break it.

  “Hey, Mom,” he forced a smile. “It’s almost time for me to leave.”

  His mother exhaled and nodded, seeming to snap out of her daze.

  “Ah… that’s unfortunate,” she murmured, then brightened. “But I have a present for you.”

  Finn blinked. “Really?”

  “Yep! It’s not much, but I put some money into your bank account. I figured it could help when you get there.”

  Finn opened his mouth, hesitated, then stood and wrapped her in a hug. She accepted it without hesitation.

  “Thank you, Mom,” he whispered. “And… I’m sorry for bringing up Dad.”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay, dear.” Then, with a teasing smirk, she added, “You will spend that money responsibly, right?”

  Finn shivered.

  “Of course! I’d never betray your trust like that!”

  She chuckled.

  "He would be proud, y'know?" she whispered.

  Finn pretended not to hear her words and smiled.

  Finally, after a while of relentless pestering about staying in contact, Finn said his goodbyes, grabbed his suitcase and reached for the cold, metal door handle.

  A strange weight settled in his chest when he swung open the door and stepped outside. He halted, pressing a hand against it.

  Something gnawed at him—fear? Sadness? A whisper of something half-remembered, like a dream slipping through his fingers. He shook it off, straightened his shoulders, and stepped forward.

  He instinctively craned his neck toward the horizon.

  No more looking back now.