Demonbound

2

Lumi went back to the training grounds.

He didn’t think about it. His feet carried him there on their own, away from the courtyard, away from the murmurs that still rang in his ears. Away from the platform resetting like he had never existed.

The yard was empty.

It always was at this hour.

The sun sat low, throwing long shadows across the dirt. Training dummies stood in a loose line—scarred wood and reinforced stone, some cracked from years of sigil-enhanced strikes. The grass at the edges was flattened and dry, pressed down by repeated impacts.

Lumi stepped onto the dirt.

Strike. Step. Turn.

His body moved out of habit.

Strike. Step. Turn.

He breathed in through his nose. Out through his mouth.

If he stopped, he’d think.

If he thought, he’d remember.

He didn’t want to remember the silence after his name was called. But no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts still drifted.

Just a few days ago, he remembered that Elvis had been here.

Lumi hadn’t meant to watch. He’d been passing by, heading back to his room, when he felt it—the shift in the air. Pressure changing. Wind gathering without sound.

He’d stopped.

Elvis had stood exactly where Lumi stood now. Feet planted. Shoulders loose. Not forcing anything.

Waiting.

Then the wind had answered.

Not violently. Not wildly.

Clean.

A single breath—and the training dummy had been torn from the ground and hurled backward, skidding across the dirt before slamming into the wall. Dust had filled the air. The wards embedded in the stone had flared to absorb the impact.

Elvis hadn’t smiled.

He’d just lowered his hand and moved on.

Lumi stopped moving.

The memory sat heavy in his chest.

He glanced around the yard.

Empty.

No footsteps. No voices. No watching eyes.

He swallowed.

Maybe he hadn’t activated his sigil because he never tried properly before.

Maybe he’d been too tense. Too desperate.

He adjusted his stance.

Feet apart. Weight centered.

He raised one hand, palm open. Not clenched. Not rigid.

Just like Elvis.

He slowed his breathing.

Waited.

Nothing happened.

The air stayed still.

Too still.

His fingers twitched. He ignored it.

He focused harder, eyes fixed on the space in front of him, as if staring long enough might pull something out of hiding.

Nothing.

His arm began to ache. He lowered it slowly.

Of course.

A sharp laugh cut through the quiet.

Lumi flinched.

He turned.

Three servants stood near the edge of the yard.

They hadn’t just arrived.

One leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. Another sat atop a crate, swinging his legs. The third stood with his hands in his pockets, watching like this was a show he’d paid for.

“How many times was that?” one of them asked.

“Enough to be embarrassing,” another replied, grinning.

Lumi’s face burned.

“Go away,” he said.

The servant on the crate laughed. “Why? You’re finally doing something interesting.”

They looked at his empty hand.

“That’s the stance, right?” one of them said. “The one that makes the wind obey?”

“Don’t,” Lumi said. His voice shook. “Don’t talk about it.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” the third servant asked lightly. “Glare at us? That’s all you’re good for seeing as you don’t even have a sigil.”

Lumi’s hands curled into fists. Fury flashing in his eyes.

Before he could stop himself, he moved.

He didn’t get far.

The air shifted.

Not enough to hurt.

Enough to scare.

A sudden gust slammed into his chest, knocking the breath from him and sending him stumbling backward. He hit the ground hard, dirt scraping his palms.

Another gust followed—sharp, controlled—pinning him there.

Lumi gasped, trying to push himself up.

One of the servants stepped forward, his wrist faintly glowing with the Calder sigil.

“Careful,” he said. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The wind pressed harder for a second—then vanished.

Lumi lay there, heart hammering.

“Imagine,” another servant said, crouching beside him, “being born a Calder and still having nothing.”

They laughed.

“Pure blood,” one muttered. “Completely useless.”

“How does that even happen?” another asked. “Did the sigil just… skip him?”

Lumi squeezed his eyes shut.

“Master Calder must be proud,” someone added.

They walked away, still laughing.

The yard fell quiet again.

Lumi stayed where he was for a long time.

When he finally stood, his hands were shaking.

He brushed the dirt from his clothes and turned toward the estate.

This wasn’t right.

They were servants. They had no right to talk to him like that. He had no power of his own but he was still a direct child of the patriarch. There was no way those servants wouldn’t be punished for what they just did.

His father would handle it.

He had to. With that, Lumi got up and proceeded to his father’s study. 

---

The study door was closed.

Lumi knocked.

“Enter.”

The room smelled faintly of ink and polished wood.

His father sat behind the desk, posture straight, expression unreadable. His armor lay neatly arranged on a stand nearby, sigils dormant but unmistakable. The shelves along the walls were lined with ledgers and relics—tools of authority, not sentiment.

Lumi stepped inside.

“Father,” he said. “The servants attacked me.”

No response.

“They mocked me,” Lumi continued. “They used wind magic on me.”

His father’s pen paused.

“If you had the Calder sigil,” he said calmly, “servants wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m sorry about today,” Lumi stammered, unable to find the right words. 

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t bring back my dignity, unfortunately,” he said with a sigh.

Lumi swallowed.

“I’m training,” he said. “Every day. It’ll awaken. I know it will.”

“All six of your siblings manifested as children, with a few even before the trial. I don’t know why this is so different in your case,” his father replied without looking up. “You’re already grown.”

He set the pen down.

“There are late bloomers,” he continued. “But no one is ever this late.”

Lumi’s chest tightened.

“I’ll work harder.”

“There is nothing to work for,” his father said, finally meeting his eyes. “You either have the sigil or you don’t. I was doubting and hoping that it’ll show up in your case but now I see that I was wrong. You will always be powerless.”

“I can still be useful,” Lumi said quickly. “I can train. I can fight.”

“There’s no need.”

The words were final.

“You’re being sent away.”

Lumi took a step forward. “What?”

“Pack your things,” his father said. “You’re done here.”

“I’m your son,” Lumi said. “I belong here. There’s nowhere else I can go. Where are you sending me?”

“The Blackwells lost a servant during a hunt,” his father replied. “They’ve requested a replacement.”

Lumi felt the room tilt.

“You’ll serve them,” his father continued. “It’s for the best.”

“For the best?” Lumi whispered.

“You have no sigil. No future here,” his father said. “At least there, you’ll be useful.”

“Please,” Lumi said. “Don’t send me away.”

His father’s expression didn’t change.

“Pack your things—”

A knock interrupted him.

The sound echoed too loudly in the room.

Both of them turned toward the door.