Leon awoke feeling better than he had any right to. For a few moments he simply lay there staring at the ceiling. No headache, no pain, no strange visions. Nothing. Just a strange sense of refreshment—the kind that came after a long, dreamless sleep. In fact, he couldn't remember dreaming at all. One moment he had closed his eyes, and the next, morning sunlight was streaming through the window. It felt less like sleeping and more like time itself had skipped forward.
Leon stretched lazily, his joints cracking as a satisfied sigh escaped him. Then he noticed he wasn't alone.
Seated at the study table near the window was Raymond, numerous documents lay scattered before him—maps, reports, letters, several sheets covered in hastily scribbled notes. The older man was staring at one particular report with a grim expression, deep lines formed between his brows.
For a moment Leon simply watched him. Then he spoke. "Good morning."
Raymond looked up. The grimness on his face softened slightly and a small smile appeared. "Morning."
Leon sat upright, and the smile disappeared almost immediately. Something about Raymond's expression bothered him—the exhaustion, the tension, the worry. A bad feeling settled in his stomach. "What's with the gloomy face?"
Raymond remained silent. Too silent. Leon already knew the answer, but still he asked. "Has the situation gotten worse?"
For several moments Raymond simply looked at him, trying to decide how much to say. Eventually he sighed. "Father won't be joining us today." Leon's expression darkened. "He's occupied." The older man's eyes drifted toward the reports spread across the desk. "He wanted me to tell you he's sorry. He knows what you're going through." Raymond leaned back in his chair. "He knows he promised to help you begin training. But right now the city needs him."
The answer was enough. Leon didn't need details. If Arthur Ashbourne was choosing duty over family after what had happened yesterday, then things must be bad. Very bad.
His hands clenched slightly. The frustration came immediately—not directed toward his father, but toward the situation, toward the war, toward the endless problems piling on top of one another.
Raymond noticed. Of course he did. "Don't." Leon looked up. The older man rose from his chair. "No point wasting energy being miserable." A small grin appeared. "We've got enough problems already."
Leon couldn't help snorting. "That's your advice?"
"It's worked for me so far." The grin widened. "Now get up." Raymond pointed toward the washroom. "Freshen up. We've got a long day ahead."
A short while later the two brothers stood upon the balcony attached to Leon's room. The morning air felt cool against his skin. Below them stretched the city—though many buildings remained damaged from the battle, recovery efforts had already begun. Workers moved through the streets, soldiers patrolled the walls, carriages transported supplies. Life continued, even after disaster.
Leon rested his arms against the balcony railing and for a while neither spoke. Then Raymond broke the silence.
"You can't leave the room for now."
Leon glanced sideways. "My crystal?"
"Partly." Raymond nodded. "We could hide that with a bandage." His gaze shifted toward Leon's face. "The eyes are another problem."
Leon grimaced. Even now his reflection still possessed that unnatural golden color. Anyone who saw him would immediately notice. "And what if someone does?"
Raymond's expression grew serious. "We don't know enough yet. The fewer people who learn about your awakening, the better."
Leon nodded. That made sense.
"Which means," Raymond continued, "until you learn some control, you're staying here." He folded his arms. "Now." A smile appeared. "Let's figure out what exactly you can do."
Despite everything, excitement stirred within Leon. Yesterday had been terrifying, confusing, overwhelming. But beneath all of that, he had awakened. A power. His power.
"Try using your eyes again."
The excitement faded slightly. "Just like that?"
Raymond shrugged. "It's worth a shot." Get faster updates on g.com.
Leon turned his attention toward the city—the distant walls, the rooftops, the narrow streets weaving between buildings. From this height, most people were little more than moving dots, tiny blurs, nothing more. He concentrated. Waiting. Nothing happened. A minute passed, then another. His eyes began to sting.
"Anything?" Raymond asked.
Leon shook his head. "No."
"Keep trying."
He did, and failed, again and again. Nothing changed except his eyes becoming increasingly dry. Eventually Leon rubbed them. "This isn't working."
"Don't force it." Raymond leaned against the railing. "Think about yesterday."
Leon frowned. "The visions?"
"No. The moment before your eyes changed."
Leon fell silent. At first nothing came—yesterday had been chaos, pain, fear, confusion. But beneath all of that there had been a feeling. A strange one, difficult to describe. He remembered standing before the mirror, staring at his reflection. Not thinking, not planning. Just looking. The mirror had seemed to draw him in. The world around him had slowly faded away—the room, his brother, his worries, even his own thoughts—until only the reflection remained. Only the act of seeing.
Leon slowly turned his attention back toward the city. The distant walls, the rooftops, the endless sea of buildings stretching toward the horizon. This time he didn't try to activate the power. He didn't force himself to focus. Instead he simply watched.
The wind brushed against his skin. Voices drifted upward from the streets below. Gradually those sounds faded into the background as his awareness narrowed. The balcony disappeared. The castle disappeared. Even Raymond's presence slowly faded from his mind. There was only the city, only the scenery before him. Leon felt himself sink into it, as though his consciousness were drifting beyond his body, blending with his gaze and following it farther and farther into the distance.
Then something clicked.
A faint shiver ran down his spine. His golden eyes widened. The city wall suddenly seemed closer—far closer. Individual stones became visible, cracks, weathering, tiny imperfections.
His breath caught. "It's happening."
Raymond immediately straightened. "What do you see?"
Leon barely heard him. The wall continued expanding before his eyes—not physically, yet undeniably. Distance itself seemed to collapse. "I can see the wall." He swallowed. "No..." His voice trembled. "I can see every stone."
For the first time since awakening, excitement overwhelmed the fear. Because this time he wasn't losing control. This time he was guiding it. And as the city rushed toward him once more, Leon realized he was finally beginning to understand what his eyes could do.
As the minutes passed Leon gradually began getting the hang of it, and the difference between now and yesterday was astonishing. Yesterday the power had dragged him along like a leaf caught in a storm. Now he could steer it—not perfectly, not smoothly, but enough.
The city no longer rushed toward him uncontrollably. Instead his focus became the guide. Whenever he settled his attention on something, the distance between them seemed to shrink. A guard standing atop the city wall. A merchant pushing a cart through the market. A group of laborers repairing a collapsed roof. The moment he focused on them, details emerged—faces, expressions, movements, individual strands of hair, tiny gestures that should have been impossible to see from this distance. Then with a thought he shifted elsewhere. The image receded and a new one took its place.
Leon couldn't stop smiling. This was incredible. The city had become an endless landscape waiting to be explored. His gaze drifted across rooftops, through alleyways, into public buildings bustling with activity. Inside a smithy he watched molten metal being hammered into shape. Inside a warehouse workers stacked supplies for the coming days. Inside a tavern survivors shared stories of yesterday's battle. Everywhere he looked, life continued—bruised, wounded, but alive.
For the first time since the invasion Leon found himself genuinely enjoying something. "This is amazing." The words escaped him without thought, his eyes glowing brightly, almost like molten gold.
Raymond chuckled. "Good." A rare smile appeared on his face. "Keep going. Master that instinct." Leon grinned.
For a while he simply experimented—seeing how quickly he could shift his focus, how far he could reach, how much detail he could maintain. Every attempt felt easier than the last. The power was becoming familiar. Natural. As though it had always belonged to him.
And yet there was something strange.
Several times while scanning the city Leon felt an odd sensation—a faint warmth, right between his brows. It appeared for only an instant before vanishing, so subtle he wasn't even certain it had happened. The first time he ignored it. The second time he assumed it was exhaustion. By the third he wondered if he was imagining things. The sensation never lasted long enough to investigate, just a brief flicker then gone. Eventually he dismissed it and continued exploring. Follow the newest chapters on novelping . com.
Until something caught his attention.
Near the southern district sat one of the city's larger stables. His focus settled upon it and immediately the scene rushed toward him. Dozens of townsfolk crowded the area. Wagons stood lined up in rows, crates being loaded, barrels secured, bundles of belongings tied down with rope. Men shouted instructions while women gathered children. The entire place buzzed with activity.
Leon's smile faded slightly. It looked less like ordinary commerce and more like preparation—preparation for leaving, for evacuation. "What's happening there?" he murmured.
Raymond glanced toward him. "What happened?"
Leon didn't answer immediately, his attention remaining fixed on the stable. Something about the scene felt important.
Then the warmth returned. This time stronger. Much stronger. Leon stiffened as the sensation pulsed between his brows—not painful, not uncomfortable, but impossible to ignore. "What..."
His eyes narrowed, searching. The stable filled his vision—workers, wagons, supplies, horses. His gaze drifted across them one by one. The warmth faded, then returned. Stronger.
Leon froze. A chestnut-colored mare. The sensation had appeared the instant his eyes passed over her. Slowly he shifted his attention elsewhere—the feeling vanished. Back to the mare, it returned immediately. His heartbeat quickened.
Carefully he began examining the other animals. A black stallion—nothing. A mule pulling a wagon—nothing. Another horse—nothing. Then a second mare, and the warmth returned, stronger than before. Leon blinked, confused. He shifted again. A third. The same reaction. Not every horse, not even every mare. Only certain ones.
The realization sent a chill down his spine, because now he knew two things. First, the sensation was real. And second, whatever was causing it was selective.
His excitement vanished, replaced by curiosity and just a hint of unease. "What are you?" he whispered, staring at the mare as though somehow it might answer. The warmth between his brows persisted—steady, subtle, calling his attention back to the animal again and again.
Leon narrowed his eyes. There had to be a reason. Not every horse had triggered the sensation, not even every mare. Only certain ones. There was a pattern here, a connection, something his power was trying to show him. His curiosity flared as he slowly focused harder, trying to see deeper, trying to uncover what made these mares different from the others.
But before he could, a spike of pain shot through his skull.
"Ah!"
The world lurched. The stable vanished. The city disappeared. His vision snapped back to normal as though a stretched rope had suddenly broken, and Leon staggered backward clutching his head. A violent throbbing spread behind his eyes—far worse than the warning aches he had been ignoring for the past several minutes. The discomfort had been building the entire time, a faint pressure, a dull ache, easy to overlook in his excitement. Now it hit him all at once, and his knees nearly buckled.
"Leon!"
Raymond was beside him instantly, a strong hand catching his shoulder before he could collapse. "Easy there."
Leon squeezed his eyes shut. The pain pulsed through his head like a hammer striking an anvil. After several breaths it began to ease—not disappearing, just becoming manageable.
"I think..." he muttered between breaths. "I think I found something."
Raymond blinked. The older man had clearly been preparing to lecture him about overexerting himself. Instead he paused. "You found something?"
Leon slowly lowered his hand from his forehead. His head still hurt and his eyes felt exhausted, yet despite that a grin spread across his face—the same grin he used to wear as a child whenever he discovered a hidden passage in one of his adventure books. Curiosity. Excitement. The thrill of a mystery waiting to be solved.
"I don't know what it means yet," Leon admitted. "But it's definitely something."
Raymond stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "You look entirely too happy for someone who nearly passed out."
Leon chuckled weakly. Maybe he should have been worried. Maybe he should have been resting. But right now all he could think about were those mares, and the strange feeling that his eyes had recognized something long before he had.