In the main parts of the royal city, on street corners and in alleys, there was constant chatter about the duel between Prince Nero and the King of Anzino.

“How terrible! The poor boy had no magic, and his father killed him just like that!”

“He was the one who declared Duellum Magica. He should have known what would happen.”

“The royal family must be devastated! I’m sure the king didn’t mean to kill his own son.”

“He got what he deserved! He was conspiring with the Knowledge Keeper to overthrow the kingdom—I’m surprised he wasn’t executed that day.”

It was hard to ignore in the kingdom, but up in the castle, no one spoke a word. The entire fortress was eerily quiet the next few days, and there was a somber funeral for Prince Nero. No one but the priest spoke about Nero. The Queen was too distraught, with her remaining son attending to her. The King didn’t attend—holed up in his room, overcome with grief and regret.

“I’ll never use magic again,” Daemon stated, his face stoic, but wet with tears.

In the dark of the night, down in the main city, three cloaked figures kept to the shadows of the buildings. Most of the city had already gone to bed, and those that were still awake had no interest in anyone else out that late. They were too busy drinking in the tavern or entertaining women in the alleys, and others were huddled around barrels, trying to keep warm as the winter air began to settle into the kingdom.

The traveled to the far end of the city, slipping out through the main gates in the darkness as a traveling merchant was let inside. From there, the stayed off the road, traveling through the edge of the forest until they were out of sight of the main gates.

“I think we’ve gone far enough,” the young woman said. “We should get back to the library.”

One of the others sighed and took off his hood. His silver-blue eyes glowed in the darkness. They had changed since he received the Gift of Knowledge from Faeryn. He’d had hazel eyes before, and of course they had never glowed.

“Prince Nero,” the other library assistant stepped forward, “are you sure about this? Your family is devastated. Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“It’s better this way,” Nero told him, straightening the front of his cloak. “I knew I couldn’t win against my father or Daemon. I would have died in that duel—you know that. So, I’ll go somewhere else. I’ll start a new life where no one knows who I am. I believe my death will change Anzino now that everyone sees the harm that magic can do, and how the system favors mages.”

“I hope you’re right,” the girl sighed, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

Nero felt a bit guilty. He’d never asked their names or really gotten to know them, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to get attached to anyone else, afraid that being associated with him might bring them trouble, the same way he’d done to Faeryn. He felt like Faeryn’s execution was his fault, and it weighed heavy on his heart, so he would just avoid getting attached to anyone.

“Thank you,” Nero told them, putting his hood back up. “I’m sorry for what happened to Faeryn, and I’m sorry to leave you like this, but it’s for the best.”

The assistants looked sad when Nero turned away, heading south. Oorlog was a community of seafolk. He could start a new, quiet life there, and get a job on the docks to support himself. He wasn’t terribly strong, but he knew he was at least strong enough to haul in a fishing net.

He stayed off the roads most of the time, worried that some traveling merchants might recognize him from their time spent in Anzino. He didn’t want to risk any rumors getting back to his family, afraid they might come looking for him to bring him back.

Some of the terrain was harsh. There were many hills and uneven terrain across the parts of the kingdom that were closer to the border, and it became more difficult when it started to snow. Few people lived out that far, save for a few farmers with large pieces of land granted to them by past rulers.

Nero could tell that they were Sorcerers too. Their farms were just a bit too green and their animals just a bit too perfect to be a regular farm owned by someone who wasn’t using magic to supplement their resources.

It took a few days to get to the edge of the kingdom, but it was a long, hard few days. Nero’s decision to run away was last second, when the library assistants had jumped in to protect him from his father’s lightning. If they were there when the smoke cleared, then Nero was sure they’d be executed like Faeryn was, accused of plotting against the king. So, they ran. He hadn’t even packed a bag or any food.

He stumbled along, cold and exhausted while he dragged his feet through the snow. He wasn’t sure where he was or how far from Oorlog, and he was hungry.

He came across an apple tree. In front of it, there was a patch of grass that appeared untouched by the blanket of snow that the winter had brought. Stepping into the circle, the air felt warmer under the tree, and Nero let out a sigh of relief as he stopped shivering for the first time all evening.

He picked a couple of the apples and sat in the grass. He ate them slowly, savoring how juicy and sweet they were, unlike any apples he’d ever eaten back home.

At the edge of the grass, he noticed there were small, strange-looking mushrooms. They were a strange shade of blue, so Nero decided it would be best not to try to eat them. When he finished the apples, he rested against the tree and closed his eyes.

This was for the best, wasn’t it? It had to be. He might end up struggling to survive, but it didn’t matter. Anzino was better off without him. Mother and Father were spared the embarrassment of having a son with no magic power. Daemon could train and inherit the throne without having to deal with his failure of a twin brother.

Nero was spared too. He didn’t have to spend the rest of his life with all the patronizing looks or useless attempts to cure him. No whispers in the halls or rumors in the streets. He wasn’t sick. There was nothing wrong with him. Being away from Anzino would give him a chance to live a normal life where no one knew about his shortcomings.

He lay down under the tree and let out a long breath, finally letting his exhaustion get the best of him.

Daemon rushed through the corridors of Castle Anzino, and the guards and nobles quickly moved out of his way. His breath came out in quick, panicky huffs, and his heart dropped at the sight of the Court Physician standing outside of his parents’ room.

“How are they?” Daemon asked breathlessly.

The doctor shook his head and let out a long sigh. He placed a strong hand on Daemon’s shoulder, but it didn’t bring him any comfort.

“I’m sorry, Prince Daemon. There’s nothing more I can do for them.”

Daemon swallowed hard before he entered the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

His parents lay in the bed, looking like corpses. They were thin and pale, and no one knew what was wrong with them. Was it because of Nero’s death?

“Mother… Father…” Daemon sat in a chair beside the bed and took his mother’s hand. It was cold and clammy, and when she squeezed his hand, it was so weak that he just barely felt her move.

“Daemon…” She spoke barely louder than a whisper through her dry, chapped lips. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, his eyes filling with tears. “What can I do to help you? I can’t lose you too. Not when we just lost Nero."

"It’s all my fault,” Father said, his voice quiet and hoarse. “I pushed him too hard, and I destroyed him.”

“It’s not your fault,” Daemon told him, struggling to keep his composure. “He’s the one who challenged you to duel. Don’t blame yourself for something he got himself into! It’s his fault!”

“Daemon,” Mother said, reached up to touch his face. He leaned into her palm, tears running down his face as he covered her hand with his own. “Don’t hold a grudge against Nero or your father. Don’t let your anger affect the way you rule the kingdom, okay?”

“Rule the kingdom?” Daemon struggled to hold back his sobs. “I’m not the king, Father is. I don’t want to rule the kingdom yet! I’m not ready.”

“You have to be ready,” Father said. “Didn’t the Court Physician tell you? Our time has run out.”

“Don’t,” he sobbed, tightening his grip on his mother’s hand. “Please don’t leave me in this castle all alone.”

Mother didn’t answer, and her eyes were closed. She was already gone. Daemon cried, and tears ran down Father’s face before he let out his last breath too.

“I hate magic,” Daemon said through his sobs, still clutching his mother’s lifeless hand. “I’ll never use it again. No one will!”