It was around eleven in the morning…

A lone boy sat on a stump, wrapped in a blanket almost up to the crown of his head. Through his torn clothes the bandages were visible nearly his entire body was wrapped, save for his face and hands. His right leg had been bound tight, though Nero still moved it from time to time.

He stared at his feet with an empty gaze.
From time to time, people in uniform approached him asking if he was alright, whether anything hurt. They asked questions about the incident and left…
He only nodded absently. Several times he asked about his father, but every time the answer was the same "No".

When he heard “No” again, something inside him cracked. He nearly screamed. Instead, he clenched his jaw and fixed his eyes even harder on the ground.

Suddenly he laughed quietly thin, hysterical, but a few seconds later the laughter dissolved into a small, hopeless sob.
No one tried to stop him, to console him, or to scold him. This was his life now. Brutally unfair, but real all the same...

From the once-majestic manor, only charred ruins remained. Everything else had become a heap of ash.

A stout well, almost bald man hurried over and tried to calm him. Nero recognized him at once and, through tears, spoke to his uncle.

“Frankie, you know… They… they killed everyone…” Nero blurted out instinctively. “Tyr… F-Father’s butler… We have to find him he tried to kill me… Or rather, he even thinks he succeeded.”

Frankie handed the boy a handkerchief, and Nero wiped his tears.

“Nero… it’s going to be alright, don’t worry,” Frankie said softly.

“Alright? Uncle, we need to find and seize Tyr he’ll tell us everything. Are you even listening to me?!” Nero snapped.

Frank sighed heavily, then answered, “No, Nero, listen to me. Yesterday morning Tyr was found dead on one of the capital’s streets. The man you saw could have been using disguise magic. Stop shouting, drink some water, and calm down already…”

The Von Dorr family butler standing nearby took a large flask from a small black bag, opened it, and passed it to Nero.
After a few swallows, Nero stopped and returned the flask. A chilly wind blew, and he burrowed deeper into the blanket.

Watching from a distance, a junior officer approached Lieutenant Kataske and asked him to follow.
Uncle Frank lifted his head and looked at the sky. “Nero, aren’t you cold?”

“I-I’m f-fine…” Nero chattered, teeth clicking now and then.

Frank gave his butler an approving nod. The man reached into his enchanted satchel and, a moment later, pulled out a large fur cloak, draping it over the boy on top of the blanket.

“Frank… is that you? Old friend…” came a voice behind him, making Frank turn.

A broad-shouldered, red-haired man with a touch of gray stood before them, in a fur coat, eyes a vivid green.

“Benjamin Dan Rossi,” Uncle Frank thought.

At his side stood a stunned Izzy. She had been frozen in shock for several minutes now—staring at the destroyed house and, of course, the sea of bodies…

What surprised her most was not the unsinged scraps of surrounding grounds, nor even the 122 shrouded bodies.
Izzy was an emotional girl, and the sight of her close friend’s condition shook her. She stared, aghast, at what had become of the manor she had visited a dozen times.

“Benjamin… and young Miss Dan Rossi… You’re just in time,” Frank greeted his old friends.

“Indeed,” Benjamin replied, casting his gaze around. “I believe we have much to discuss, do we not?”

Frank agreed and asked his butler to keep an eye on Nero.

Seeing this, Benjamin turned to Kataske, who was accompanying them, and asked him to look after Izzy. The senior lieutenant had little choice; he saluted and watched the two distinguished men go.

Before her father and Frank could get far, Izzy now wrapped in a warm shawl ran to Nero.
But when she looked into his eyes, she couldn’t find words to support him. All she could do was whatever lay within her power to help, however slightly.

“H-how are you…?” she asked uncertainly. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Nero forced himself to smile a pale effort. With a long exhale he said, “Honestly, I’m okay… Uncle says bad things happen… And… and I have to a-accept that…”

Tears welled on the boy’s face again. This time, the butler intervened. He asked Lady Dan Rossi not to darken the mood and handed Nero a flask and a handkerchief.

Izzy stepped back in understanding, ending her attempt.
It was clear the ruby-eyed girl was facing this kind of situation for the first time; she didn’t even know how to approach him let alone what words to choose.

Some time later…

Right in front of the main gate, Stella Dan Rossi and Frankie Von Dorr gathered everyone present.
Stella drew a black-marked scroll and, glancing at those before him, spoke almost ceremonially.

“I’ve just received this document from the Emperor himself. Hear now the command of His Majesty…”

He unfurled the scroll and prepared to read.

Most of those gathered were seeing a black scroll for the first time, but everyone knew what it meant. A cold shiver ran down their spines.

Stella began:

“In view of the circumstances surrounding the tragic events at the Von Lavrelio estate, the sole surviving heir of the Stella’s house, Nero Von Lavrelio, is hereby officially declared deceased, for his own safety. This decision is final and not subject to appeal.
All matters related to the Von Lavrelio family and the tragedy at their estate are classified as a top-level state secret.
Any person who dares to divulge information connected to this attack shall be deemed a threat to the security of the Empire and shall be executed.
That is all.”

Everyone present was stunned—everyone except Frank.
He remembered his conversation with Benjamin ten minutes earlier.

“Even if we manage to persuade the Emperor, how do we explain this now? Benjamin, you know that without His Majesty’s consent our hands are tied,” Frank had said.

In response, Benjamin pulled a crumpled black parchment from his fur coat pocket and showed it to him.

“This is it?” Frank asked, baffled.
Stella dispelled his doubts. “Yes. An eagle brought a dispatch from the Advisor of Renos while I was on my way here—clueless. That’s how I learned of the tragedy.” Frank nodded.

Arms crossed, he said, “If this doesn’t work, we’ll answer for the lie with our heads…” He glared at the paper with obvious hatred, then added, “Tell me… can you be sure the Emperor will agree?”

Stella tilted his head back and looked up at the sky. “If we reason soberly, His Majesty has no choice. Yes, he could call it disinformation but Tallem is no fool. He understands the situation perfectly. Honestly, I believe His Majesty would do the same.”

Frank’s fears were warranted if the Emperor refused, they could face execution in the worst case. Benjamin, as a Stella, might have avoided that fate, and he knew it, but he reassured his friend that he would take full responsibility for what was done today.

And so it was. While Stella addressed the crowd, Frank Von Dorr stood aside, watching his fellow sufferer speak alone. He wondered what to do with Nero, for from this day forward, the boy could no longer remain part of the Von Lavrelio family.

Inside Frank raged doubt, pain, and fear for Nero. Not everyone survives something like this not the physical wounds, but something else entirely.

As Frank sank into thought, his butler who had been ordered to stay with Nero ran up to him. To his surprise, the boy had driven the man away.

Even so, leaving him alone wasn’t an option. Frank had no choice they hurried to Nero.

A strong wind blew, tossing his ash-gray hair, and the smell of blood and smoke filled his head.
Kneeling in front of a large red shroud, Nero reached out, grabbed an edge, and pulled it down revealing the body of Dolores Von Lavrelio.

No one was nearby. It hurt to look at his mother, but he could not look away something called to him. A faint melody—more like a ringing in the ears dissolved through his mind. He couldn’t make it out, but he knew exactly where it came from. As he realized, it was not a sound, but a thin, pulling whine.

Nero reached for it, tried to slip his hand toward her waist, and just as his fingers were about to grasp the source of that “whine,” a shout came from behind—

“Nero!”

It was Frankie. Running up with the butler, he noticed something strange Nero wasn’t wailing, or screaming, or shaking. He was… normal. He simply sat there quietly, looking at them.

Nero sat on the ground in a half-unbuttoned shirt, bandages visible beneath.
The blanket that had kept him warm was far away now carried off by the girl in red.

“He must have given it to Izzy when she went back to her father…” Frank thought.

But something else worried Frank more.
“Nero, what are you doing?!” he snapped angrily, but more hurt than anything.

The response was instantaneous: the butler threw his coat over Dolores’s body and stepped between the boy and his mother.

Nero remained seated, calm, turning his head now and then to look at each of them in turn.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Frank repeated. He, like everyone else, had no idea what was happening. He grabbed the boy by the arm and tried to pull him away, but Nero tore free and bumped into the butler, who had planted himself between the boy and Dolores.

“Schulz, out of the way! Ahem… That’s an order!” Nero barked. He noticed nothing around him; in his mind, the man before him was the living Schulz.
Living…?

Schulz was, in fact, lying far away under a blue shroud. Even though the man’s body lay some forty meters off, Nero didn’t care he looked past the butler’s legs at the body and thought only of how to get around him.

The butler glanced at Frank, uncertain. Frank nodded hesitantly signaling his subordinate to step aside.

The shock was plain on Nero’s face, and Frank didn’t want to make it worse. A twinge of guilt pricked his heart—he hadn’t let Nero say a proper farewell to his family.

Nero stepped to Dolores, leaned over her, and unceremoniously brushed the butler’s coat aside.
After about a minute of deliberation, he pulled a long wand-holster from beneath her belt.

“There it is… the source of the ringing,” he thought, realizing the melodic signal he’d been hearing all this time was coming from this very thing. A piece of wood no, a wand his mother’s wand was calling to him.

Before Nero opened the scorched holster and drew the slender wand, he covered Dolores’s body with the red shroud again and shuffled back.

It was a length of enchanted wood thin, elongated.
It had once been white, with emerald filigree at the base. The operative word being once now it looked anything but new.

Nero took the wand in hand and felt the difference from a practice wand or an ordinary one even burnt as it was.

People circled nearby, trying to judge the item, but Frank didn’t like the fact that Nero had taken something from the dead. Still, he swallowed his objection and focused on the boy.

Nero couldn’t take his eyes off the wand; it consumed all his attention, though the unfamiliar melody in his head had already faded. He felt that the wand had chosen him not the other way around.
It desperately needed repair or at least it looked that way.

In any case, Frank insisted it be returned to Dolores, and that they would buy Nero a new one.

But the moment Frank voiced his opinion, Nero hid the wand and tried to explain fiercely:
“It works I-I know it does!”

The exchange hit a dead end. Nero sank to the ground, clutching the wand at both ends, and finally showed it in full. Its surface looked as if it had been deliberately scorched—staining the wood a rich brown-black. In places the whiteness still showed through, and the emerald tracery became visible when the light struck just right.

Altogether, it gave the wand a weathered, battle-worn look.

“Nero, I… I understand you. But listen, you need to put it back. The wand is useless. And it isn’t yours…”

Nero drew a heavy breath.

“Uncle… if I prove the wand works… can I keep it?” he asked, voice steady.

Frank, without much thought, nodded.

Nero gripped the wand tightly in his right hand and raised it before him. “AquaForm…” A light breeze stirred… And…

Nothing happened. Nero held the pose, arm extended. Frank waited a couple of seconds, then said with relief, “Good job, Nero… Put it back, and let’s go home.”

“Even if the wand works… that doesn’t mean Nero can use magic he’s twelve,” Uncle Frank thought.

Not far off, Benjamin and Izzy were walking. Benjamin had a word for Frank, and Izzy well, Izzy did as she was told… in public, at least.

“Come on, Nero,” Frank continued, almost placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

A wind rose. Drops of morning dew quivered on the leaves and the tips of the grass. They lifted into the air and hung right about at Nero’s eye level.

A small circular flick of the wand and hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny droplets gathered in a second into a single large well, not that large ball of water.

Frank, Benjamin, Izzy, and that butler Schulz, whose real name was Svar all of them were stunned.

The large sphere of water hung motionless in the air…

“Whoa… so this is magic?” Izzy breathed, astonished.

Swaying a little, Nero glanced back at the shocked Frank. “Ha… I-I told you… It works…” he said, face lighting with sheer satisfaction.

The water sphere began to churn the spell was slipping out of his control.
Before anyone noticed, Nero felt something thick and liquid running from his nose…

A few drops of blood fell to the ground. He wasn’t sure what he felt. Slowly, Nero lowered his head and looked down. In those few seconds, a small red blot had formed on the dirt.

The ringing in his ears drowned out every other sound. It seemed like someone was calling to him—no, shouting his name. But before he could grasp what was happening. 

The spell exploded.

Fortunately, no one was hurt. It was only a fright… though now almost all of them—except Benjamin and Izzy, who stood too far were drenched.

Frank exhaled, ready to say something perhaps scold Nero but his eyes suddenly widened.

Nero fell soundlessly, face-first into the ground. Blood trickled from his ears and nose.

Benjamin flashed to his side with a sharp gust of wind, landing beside him he must have used some ability, but that wasn’t the point.

He gathered the poor boy into his arms.

Because Nero....

Nero was no longer breathing.