The Cold Heir

The grand dining hall of the Flack estate was fancy but cold. Chandeliers of frosted crystal hung from the ceiling, casting a pale glow over the room. The long table was adorned with silverware polished to perfection, pristine white tablecloths, and dishes that would make any noble jealous. Yet for all its grandeur, the atmosphere was devoid of warmth.

Ved and Lyra sat across from each other at the far end of the table, with their parents, Dario and Lady Lyanna Flack. In front of them was a huge feast with roasted meat, spicy soups, and lots of delicious side dishes. But even with all that good food, Ved and Lyra couldn't really enjoy it. The food was as much a reminder of their family's wealth as it remind them of their obligations.

Dario sat at the head of the table, his expression stern as always. Lyanna, seated to his right, exuded an air of detached elegance, her icy blue eyes a mirror to her children's. She didn't pay much attention to them, busy cutting her meat into small, neat pieces.

The room was quiet, with only the sound of forks and knives on plates and the fire popping in the background. Not a word was spoken. Ved would sometimes look at his sister, but Lyra kept her eyes on her plate, her cold demeanor as unshakable as ever.

Finally, Dario broke the silence, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "You are both sixteen now."

Ved and Lyra looked up, their father's words commanding attention.

Dario continued, his tone formal and unfeeling. "The Academy term begins next month. You will both attend, as is tradition for the heirs of the Flack family. Your performance there will reflect directly on this house. Do not embarrass us."

Lyanna finally spoke, her voice soft but no less cutting. "The Academy is not a place for failure. It is where the finest noble children are forged into the leaders of tomorrow. You will be expected to excel, to outshine your peers, and to bring honor to the Flack name."

There was no congratulations, no acknowledgement of their shared birthday weeks ago, no one said "happy birthday" or asked how they felt about turning another year older. For Dario and Lyanna, this wasn't a party; it was more like telling them what they had to do next.

Ved's grip on his fork tightened. "Understood," he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.

Lyra remained silent, her expression unreadable. But Ved knew her well enough to recognize the tension in her shoulders, the slight clench of her jaw. She was just as affected by their parents' coldness as he was, though she would never admit it.

As the world only favored the strong, Lyra thought the same. She was a talented person, which was the reason she was joining the World Academy at the same time as Ved. And Dario knew that his daughter wanted to openly challenge Ved at the academy, Despite Ved being more talented than her. 

Ved learned how to use a sword when he was young just by watching his father move. Dario knewhis son was highly talented, but he didn't care if his children fought each other.

Dario took a sip of his wine, his gaze shifting between his children. "Remember, your actions will determine your worth. The Academy is not merely a place of learning. Those who emerge strong will inherit the future. Those who falter will be cast aside."

Lyanna nodded in agreement, her eyes briefly meeting Ved's. "Do not disappoint us."

The words hung in the air, suffocating and absolute.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Ved and Lyra ate mechanically, their parents making no effort to engage them in conversation. It was as though they weren't a family but strangers sharing a table out of obligation.

When the final course was served, Dario rose from his seat, his chair scraping against the marble floor. "You are dismissed. Prepare yourselves for the Academy. That is all."

With that, he left the hall, Lyanna following close behind without a second glance at her children.

As the door closed behind them, Ved let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He looked across the table at Lyra, who was still staring at her plate.

"They didn't even mention it," he said quietly, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Lyra finally looked up, her icy gaze meeting his. "Did you expect them to? This is who they are, Ved. It's who they've always been."

Ved's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. She was right, of course. Their parents had never been the type to show affection or celebrate anything. Every interaction with them was transactional, a reminder of their responsibilities and the weight of the family name.

Lyra stood, her chair scraping back. "You already got used to it. The Academy will be no different."

Ved watched her leave, her words echoing in his mind. The Academy was just another trial, another test to prove their worth to parents who seemed incapable of love.