Nero and Daemon stood facing each other in the center of the arena. It seemed that nearly everyone in the kingdom had crowded into the surrounding stands, with the King and Queen at the center, elevated above the others.

Nero closed his eyes and flexed his fingers. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to put on a show. He wasn’t some exhibit for the people’s entertainment. Why didn’t anyone else feel that way? Why, after so many generations, were they all still content with this? Shouldn’t a Prince of Anzino be treated with more dignity than this?

He looked up at the sky and scowled. The weather wasn’t looking great. Dark clouds had filled the sky, and there was a low rumble of thunder in the far distance. It had been raining off and on all week. Would it rain again today?

Even if it did rain, the celebration wouldn’t be canceled. Why did there have to be a celebration at all? It’s not like it was anything new. Every year on their 18th birthday, the prince or princess of the time would manifest their magic power for the first time. They spent all their time before that preparing for it, learning incantations and magical rituals, movements that would keep them in control… What was the point of it all?

“What’s that look for?”

Daemon had a smug grin on his face as he rolled up his sleeves. He’d always been a bit of a show-off, ever since they were kids. He was always ahead of Nero, no matter how hard he tried to keep up, although Nero didn’t really care, either. He didn’t pride himself on being physically powerful like Daemon did. He preferred to be left alone with a book.

“Are you scared?” Daemon asked in a mocking tone. “I hope whatever kind of magic I get isn’t too much for you. Try to keep up.”

Daemon laughed, but Nero didn’t.

“I couldn’t care less what kind of power you have,” he said. “Don’t be so cocky.”

Daemon frowned and opened his mouth to argue, but fell silent as the King of Anzino stood. The entire arena went quiet too before he addressed the whole kingdom.

“Today we are here to celebrate the coming of age of my sons, Prince Nero and Crown Prince Daemon,” he said, and the crowd cheered. “As is the custom, they have been training for many years to prepare for their power to manifest. When an Arnaldo turns eighteen, their body begins to release the magic that has built up in their body. Today, on their eighteenth birthday, the princes will reveal that new power to the kingdom.”

The crowd erupted in cheering, and Nero closed his eyes again, taking slow, deep breaths. He’d been preparing for years, but he wasn’t any more confident in himself than if he’d never trained at all. He played through the movements in his head, the techniques that the court mages had taught him. He was ready, but unsure and uneasy.

Cool air began to stir around Nero’s feet, rustling some fallen leaves and kicking up the dirt. Was a storm coming? No…

Nero opened his eyes to find that the wind was swirling around his twin brother. Weather magic? Daemon’s magic was already manifesting itself while Nero didn’t feel any different.

Dameon opened his eyes, a look of fierce determination on his face. He took a confident step forward, and everyone, Nero included, watched in awe as he moved into the steps and hand movements he’d been taught. The mages had drilled it into them for years.

The breeze around him flowed with his movements, and the hairs on Nero’s arms stood up as the air began to crackle with static.

Daemon finished his display by striking his fist up at the sky, and a huge bolt of bright lightning shot up into the cloudy sky with a deafening crack.

At first, the arena was silent, everyone staring at Daemon in shock as it began to rain. Even the King and Queen looked surprised at the level of power their son had just displayed. Then the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Daemon had a smug grin on his face as he turned to Nero.

“Top that,” he said, fixing his sleeves and smoothing the front of his shirt. “I wonder what kind of half-baked power you’ll get.”

“Shut up,” Nero hissed through his teeth, and turned away from his brother. “I’m not here to compete with you. I didn’t even want to be here.”

Ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the fact that he didn’t feel any different than any other day, Nero went through the steps. They were the same as what Daemon had done. His actions didn’t muster the wind, and there was no wind or crackle in the air.

That was fine, though—there were so many different kinds of magic. No two Arnaldos ever wielded the same kind of magic.

When Nero completed his display, the arena was silent, the tension practically tangible. After the initial shock, whispers and murmurs could be heard all around.

“What happened? Did he do it wrong?”

“How embarrassing! Poor thing…”

“In all my years, I’ve never seen any Arnaldo fail to display any power.”

Nero was shaking, his breath coming out in quick raspy huffs while he stared up at his outstretched hand. Where had he gone wrong? Did he miss a step? Was he not focused enough?

The murmuring crowd watching in anticipation as he tried again. He visualized every step, flowing evenly through the techniques, willing himself to stay calm and focused. He imagined the flow of power inside his body, and pictured it flowing in time with his movements. Again, he worked through it all, striking out with the palm of his hand and then…

Nothing.

Not even a tiny spark or a puff of smoke.

Nero lowered his arms, staring down at his trembling hands, confused and frustrated. Why wasn’t it working? What had he missed?

“He did it exactly like Crown Prince Daemon, but nothing happened…”

“I’ve never heard any Arnaldo being born without magic. Maybe he’s the victim of a curse.”

“A cursed prince! What a terrifying notion…”

Nero clenched his fists, keeping his head down. He didn’t want to see anyone’s faces, especially his parents. He’d just failed in front of the entire kingdom… twice. It was more than he could bear.

With a crushing tightness in his chest, he rushed out of the arena. He retreated back into Castle Anzino, away from everyone’s sight.

He hid himself away in the castle library. No one would bother him there. Daemon never read anything if he didn’t absolutely have to, and Father hated the Keeper of Knowledge so he avoided the library like it was full of plague.

He holed up in there for three days without food or sleep, desperately flipping through tome after tome. He needed answers, and he needed to keep away from all the judgmental, pity-filled eyes that would be looking down on him.

He could only imagine what they were all saying about him. The Cursed Prince… was it a curse, though? Nero didn’t know.

Before realizing he’d even fallen asleep, Nero felt the light pressure of a hand on the center of his back, and his eyes shot open. He was slumped over the table, resting on the pages of an open book. Next to it, someone had left a hot cup of tea and a plate with some food on it.

Nero sat up slowly, rubbing his cheek where it had been pressed to the book. He could have sworn someone had woken him up, but no one was around. His stomach growled with hunger when he smelled the bit of pork on the plate.

He ate in silence, wondering who had left it for him. His mother perhaps, but then, why wouldn’t she wake him up and tell him? Anyone in his family definitely would have woken him and tried to discuss what happened in the arena.

“You should take better care of yourself, little prince,” a quiet voice said. It echoed through the library, so Nero couldn’t tell where it had come from.

For some reason, it gave him chills up his arms and spine. He squinted, trying to see into the darkened areas of the library.

“Hello?” he called out. “Are you the Keeper of Knowledge?”

“I am,” he said, seeming to materialize out of nowhere as he stepped into the lights Nero had lit. His hooded cloak hid most of his face, alone with an unnatural shadow that swirled around him like mist. Shadow Magic? “Most of the people in the castle just call me ‘Librarian’ or ‘Keeper,’ though.”

Even though most of the stranger’s face was hidden, Nero was surprised. He was small, and he couldn’t have been much older than Nero. This was the Keeper of Knowledge? Nero had expected an old sage or a wizard like the one’s he’d seen in storybooks.

“What are you actually called?”

The man was quiet for a moment, as though he were trying to recall his own name. When was the last time anyone had even bothered to ask?

“My real name? It’s been a long time since anyone asked such a thing. My mother called me Faeryn when I was a child. When you go into certain occupations, they strip you of your name, especially when entering the monastery. If you don’t have what they call a Creator-given name, they give you one.

“My mother and I used to live far from here, in a small cabin north of the Badriyan Forest. She told me that when she was pregnant, faeries would visit her, bring her gifts, and even help her around the house and garden. That’s why she named me Faeryn.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to accept things from faeries,” Nero noted. He’d heard rumors of the Dark Kingdom, a place where faeries ruled the night. Everyone knew that meeting a faerie could be the end of your life.

“True.” Faeryn nodded. “There isn’t much that’s known about the faeries or their kingdom, but there are a few suggestions to follow if you ever do meet one. One: Never give a faerie your name. Two: Never accept gifts from a faerie. Three: Never thank a faerie. There are lots of other things, but as I said, they’re suggestions, nothing definitive. Very few people in history have met a faerie, and fewer have walked within the Dark Kingdom and lived to tell the tale. Most of my knowledge of faeries is just old superstitions and secondhand folklore.”

“Do you think faeries are evil?” Nero questioned, but Faeryn only shrugged.

“My job isn’t to form opinions—I just keep the history and protect the knowledge.”

Nero sighed. It must be nice, he thought, to have the ability to be so nonchalant and indifferent.

“Tell me, little Prince Nero,” Faeryn said, across from Nero and folding his hands on the table, “why have you holed yourself up in my library for the past three days, tearing through every book as though your life depends on it?”

Nero lowered his gaze and clenched his teeth in frustration. Three days and he was still no closer to an answer.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m nothing more than a cursed prince. At the coming-of-age ceremony, Daemon put on an incredible display of weather magic. It was amazing. He’s amazing. He’s annoying and rude but there’s no denying his talent and promise as the Crown Prince. But me? I’m nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“My power didn’t manifest,” he explained, the disgust evident in his voice. “I don’t know what I expected. I knew I didn’t feel any different. For the first time in the history of Anzino, I’m the only Arnaldo born without magic.”

“And you came looking for answers in my shelves, yes? You think somewhere in this library, you’ll find an explanation as to why Crown Prince Daemon is now a powerful sorcerer while you, little Nero, are left with nothing.”

“You don’t have to say it that way,” Nero replied with a scowl. It sounded so much worse coming from someone else’s mouth.

Faeryn stood without a word. He gestured for Nero to follow him, and headed towards the back of the library.

On the back wall, there were no books or shelves, only an enormous embroidered tapestry, covering the entirety of the wall. It was decorated with many names, branching out in all directions. Closer to the bottom, Nero spotted his own name below his brother’s.

“A family tree?” How was this supposed to be any help?

“The Arnaldo family tree, to be exact,” the Librarian said, casting a strange spell that caused the first name at the top of the tapestry to become illuminated.

“Xayanna Arnaldo, the very first Queen of Anzino. The magic of the Arnaldo family originated with this matriarch, and the magic itself was considered to be matriarchal as well, until a son was born, many generations later.”

About halfway down the tapestry, another name lit up while Faeryn continued speaking.

“Reinhardt Arnaldo, the first Crown Prince of Anzino, broke the assumption that the magic only went to women, and it was then realized that the children inherited their powers at birth, which remains dormant in the body for eighteen years until manifesting itself.”

Each name Faeryn mentioned lit up and dimmed throughout his explanation of Nero’s family history.

“In hundreds of years, every single child born into the Arnaldo family inherited the great gift of magic,” he said. “All but one person.”

Nero’s name lit up at the bottom of the family tree, and his chest felt tight with frustration. It glared out from the tapestry like it was mocking him. He wished he could take a knife and cut his name out of the tapestry and pretend he didn’t exist anymore.

“Would you like to hear my thoughts as to why you’re powerless?”

“Does it matter?” Nero sighed, and Faeryn shrugged.

“You’re the one who came here for answers, didn’t you? But first, tell me what the difference is between your name and everyone else on the tapestry.”

Nero stared up at the tapestry for what felt like an eternity, trying to see what was different. Nothing. Same lettering, same thread, same embroidery pattern… there was no difference. Unless…

“Why is my name directly below Daemon’s, when all the other siblings are beside each other?”

“You’re more observant than I expected,” Faeryn said with a soft laugh. “You and the Crown Prince are the first set of twins to ever be born into the Arnaldo bloodline.”

“I… I don’t understand. What does that have to do with—”

“I just told you, didn’t I? Every sibling has inherited the magic except for you, the only person born at the same time as another sibling. Isn’t it all too coincidental that the eldest twin inherited all the magic?”

“So…” Nero pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think hard about the situation. What was Faeryn trying to say? “So, since Daemon and I are twins, Daemon inherited the magic because he was born first?"

"It’s only a theory, but that appears to be the case. If twins were more commonplace, I would be able to give you a more definitive answer. But, with it being just you and Daemon, it’s the best explanation I can think of. You’re the only two siblings born together, and the only two where one is completely unable to produce magic. It seems that the inherited power that originated with Queen Xayanna can only be passed to one child at a time. I suspect your own talents will lie elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?”

“You’re a non-magical child descended from a powerful line of Sorcerers, and you grew in the womb of a magical woman alongside another magical child, but I don’t sense even a tiny trace of magic about you. I wonder if perhaps you built up some kind of aversion or immunity to magic instead. That would be an even more rare talent than magic itself.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” Nero said, clutching his chest. He was so frustrated. He wanted to have something to show for being an Arnaldo, it was his birthright, wasn’t it? But he had absolutely nothing, and why? Because he was born a few minutes later than his brother? Did the Gods hate him? Was he really cursed?

“You may still be able to obtain magic power.”

“What?” Nero’s heart jumped. “How?”

“Don’t get too excited yet.” He gestured for him to follow again. “If you’re completely immune to magic, you may not be able to wield it. However, there are at least five other ways to become a mage aside from inheriting the power directly. I can teach you the origin of each one, and explore the possibilities with you.”

“Why are you willing to share so much of your knowledge with me?”

Faeryn stopped short, and he was silent for a while. He seemed tense, and Nero was afraid to ask another question. Had he made him angry?

“I’m sure you’re aware of how much your father despises me,” he finally said. “It’s mainly due to the ethos of the druids that I follow, instead of the faith of the monastery, but we never got along regardless. He never liked how my mother obtained her power from the faeries, and he doesn’t like how young I am. I’ve been thinking about leaving Anzino, but I’m the Keeper of Knowledge—I can’t move on until I pass everything on to a successor.”

He removed his hood and turned around, and Nero’s eyes went wide. The shadowy magic that had kept Faeryn’s face hidden has dissipated, and he gave Nero a hard stare with eyes as blue and clear as the sea.

“I’m the Keeper of Knowledge, and a Warlock,” he said. “I know everything about this kingdom, both past and present. Every though, every intention, even if I wish I didn’t. I know you wish to have a larger role here. You don’t want to live in your brother’s shadow as his subordinate when he becomes King of Anzino, do you?”

“No, but—”

“I’ll help you exhaust all the options trying to gain magic power, but then what? Magic or not, what will you do in the end? Obediently serve as a soldier in the Royal Guard? I don’t take you as the soldier type. Will you succeed me as the Keeper of Knowledge, and protect this library in my place when I’m gone?”

Nero stared into Faeryn’s eyes, frozen and speechless. Become the next Keeper of Knowledge? He would inherit all the combined knowledge of Anzino that had been obtained since the creation of the kingdom. He could stay in the library and serve a higher purpose instead of being a servant to Daemon when he inherited the throne.

“Yes,” Nero stated with certainty. “Yes, I’ll be your successor. Of course!”

“Just… maybe, don’t tell your father. Not yet, at least. For now, at least let your family know you’re all right. We can start tomorrow.”

Nero left the library feeling much lighter than he had in a long time. The crushing weight in his chest had lifted, and he didn’t care as much about not having magic anymore. Faeryn was giving him a better alternative for his future, and Nero was going to take it eagerly.