It's been a year since Grey took over my training. Life at the manor is different now—quieter, more focused. The grand halls that once echoed with the laughter of my parents now seem filled only with the sounds of my footsteps and Grey's occasional instruction. The house elves tiptoe around, too afraid to disturb the new rhythm of our lives.
Today, like most days, began with Grey waking me before dawn. We started with physical training in the courtyard—running laps around the fountain, followed by sparring drills. Grey insists that strength comes from discipline, and discipline comes from routine. I've learned not to question his methods; they've made me stronger, faster, more aware.
After training, we moved on to magical studies. Grey had arranged for private tutors to visit the manor, each one an expert in a different field of magic. I've mastered spells most children my age wouldn't even dream of attempting. But there's a constant pressure—a feeling that I'm never doing enough, never reaching the potential that my father saw in me.
This morning, my tutor for Potions, Professor Grimsby, arrived with a new challenge. He's a grizzled old wizard with a permanent scowl etched into his face, but he's brilliant. Today, he presented me with a particularly complex potion—a Memory Draught, one of the most difficult potions to brew correctly. A single mistake, he warned, and the drinker could lose their memories forever.
"Concentration is key, Miss Warner," he said in his gruff voice as he set up the cauldron. "This potion requires precision, patience, and most importantly, understanding. If you rush, it will fail."
I nodded, determined to prove myself. I followed his instructions meticulously, adding each ingredient with care. The potion simmered, its color shifting from deep blue to shimmering silver. For a moment, I thought I had done it, but then the potion turned a murky green—a sign of failure.
Professor Grimsby frowned, but he didn't scold me. Instead, he simply said, "Again."
YOU ARE READING
The Unspoken Legacy
FantasyPrologue- In the eerie silence of early morning, before the sun had risen over the green hills of Scotland, stood a grand home, so beautiful that only a select few had the pleasure of seeing it. The wind whispered to those who dared listen: "Here li...
