Chapter 2

Two

Ekonar Veritaxis

“A toast to the new head of the Veritaxis family! May your fuck-ups be great and your successes be plenty!” Caiporin slurs loudly, swaying precariously on the bar. His voice reverberates through the now-empty ballroom, a haunting echo amidst the remnants of a night filled with excess—deflated balloons strewn across the floor like fallen soldiers and empty champagne bottles stacked in haphazard piles, witnesses to the debauchery that has unfolded. I can’t help but chuckle, even as the pressing weight on my chest threatens to consume me, a heavy reminder of the loss that lingers.

It’s been two long days since my father’s burial, which means, in true Veritaxis family tradition—to celebrate the life of a loved one rather than succumb to mourning—it’s been two full days of drunken revelry and a cascade of questionable life choices that would make any outsider raise an eyebrow. This particular celebration, however, has stretched longer than the usual affair. Or so I’ve been told; I’ve barely ventured beyond the confines of my room, preferring the comfort of books and the solace of solitude over the chaos of humanity. Attending something as mentally, physically, and emotionally draining as a family event was far from my thoughts. Truthfully, I had anticipated having at least a year before I would be forced to put on a social fa?ade and interact with people outside my tightly-knit inner circle. One of whom, Ba?uezar, is currently doing his best rendition of Sleeping Beauty, his large frame sprawled lazily across my mother’s small reading chair, clutching the stuffed doll that Caiporin somehow managed to squeeze into his arms without waking the beast. And then there's Caiporin, who is now rummaging through the almost depleted bar, desperately searching for another bottle of whatever has any semblance of alcohol content while belting out an off-key tune that dances through the air.

“I’m not sure if one is supposed to wish for ‘fuck-ups’ to be great. Or to have any at all,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.

Internally, I grit my teeth as my cousin’s voice filters through Caiporin’s impressive antics, a sharp reminder of the absurdity that surrounds me in this moment.

"Oh, come on, Ekonar!" Silbanor's voice cuts through the air like nails on a chalkboard. "Lighten up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

I don't bother turning to face him, instead focusing on the half-empty glass in my hand. "I'm positively giddy," I deadpan. "Can't you tell by my exuberant jig?"

Silbanor places a hand on my shoulder, his touch about as welcome as a sunburn. "I know it's been hard, cousin," he says, his voice dripping with feigned concern. "Your father was a great man. But he'd want you to enjoy this moment, wouldn't he?"

I shrug off his hand, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to see his wake turned into a frat party."

"I'm just worried about you," Silbanor pushes, his eyes wide with manufactured sincerity. "Isolating yourself isn't healthy. Why don't you join us for one more drink? For old times' sake?"

Before I can formulate a suitably dry response, Caiporin's voice rings out from across the room. "Hey, who moved the ceiling? It's much closer than I remember!"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. Ba?uezar, still clutched in my mother's reading chair, stirs at the commotion. "Wha's happening?" he mumbles, the stuffed toy still pressed against his chest.

"Nothing to concern yourself with," I call out, then turn back to Silbanor. "As touching as your concern is, I think I'll stick to my current level of inebriation. Someone needs to be able to cast a sobering spell when inevitably required."

Silbanor's face tightens for a moment before smoothing back into a smile.

“I understand, but before I go, how about one last toast? To your father, and to you, the new head of the family."

I eye the bottle suspiciously. It's an old vintage, one of my father's favorites. The sentiment almost seems genuine, which makes me even more wary. "Where did you get that?"

"Oh, I've been saving it for a special occasion," Silbanor says smoothly. "And what could be more special than this?"

Against my better judgment, I find myself nodding. "Fine. One toast, then I'm cutting everyone off."

Silbanor's grin widens as he pours three glasses - one for me, one for himself, and one for Ba?uezar, who's managed to stumble over to us, still clutching his stuffed companion.

"To Alessandro Veritaxis," Silbanor intones, raising his glass. "May his legacy live on through his son."

We clink glasses and drink. The wine is rich and complex, just as I remember. For a moment, I'm transported back to happier times, sharing a glass with my father in his study.

Then the world starts to spin.

I blink, trying to clear my suddenly blurry vision. "What... what did you do?" I manage to slur out.

Silbanor's face swims into focus, his fake concern replaced by a triumphant smirk. "Oh, cousin. Did you really think I'd let you take what's rightfully mine? The Veritaxis family needs a strong leader, not some bookworm who'd rather hide in his room than face the world."

I try to summon my magic, to cast a counter-spell, but my powers feel distant, unreachable. Beside me, Ba?uezar and Caiporin are swaying, their eyes unfocused.

"You fucking piece of shit. You won’t get away with this.” I growl, fighting to stay conscious.

Silbanor laughs, the sound echoing in my ears. "I already have. By the time anyone finds you, it'll be too late. Goodbye, cousin. Give my regards to your father."

As darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, I feel a strange tingling spreading through my body. My bones are shifting, my skin crawling. With the last of my strength, I grab onto Ba?uezar and Caiporin and pop out of the room; my cousin’s angry roar a distant echo before we crash onto the hard pavement, god knows where, and black out.