
Mason was the odd one among the magicians of Crystal city. Unlike his peers, he has not inherited a wand or spell book from his parents, despite their reputation as powerful sorcerers.
Mason had always felt like an outsider in his own community, constantly overshadowed by his classmates' magical abilities. All he had was a mysterious pair of gloves that had been sitting untouched in his room for a year.
Determined to discover the truth behind his lack of magic, Mason began to go deeper into his family history. He stumbled upon a dark secret that had been kept hidden for generations.
Mason learned that his ancestors had been involved in the conflict that had divided the people of crystal city, and had made a fateful decision to seal the magic away.
The gloves were the key to unlocking their hidden power, but doing so would come with great risk.
"Gloves?, what a piece of joke" Mason said in mockery as he hissed.
With the newfound information, Mason set out on a quest to uncover the full extent of his family's past and reclaim his magical birthright.
Mason went home from school, his shoulders down in defeat. It has been another trying day at the magic school. As usual, he had been the target of relentless bullying from his classmates due to his lack of magical abilities.
Arthur lands a hot blow on Mason's face and the crowd of students begins to laugh.
"Get up you punk, you are just a nobody, you forcing yourself to mix with us the real magician but the truth is, we're not even sure you're a magician, just because your parents were magical doesn't mean you're one...you are just a loser Mason...i know that, everyone knows that and even you know that" Arthur said with a dark tone.
Arthur is one of the powerful magicians in the school, he is respected and feared because of his character, everyone sees him as a bully, so no one wants to mess with him.
The taunts still rang in Mason's ears.
"Magic less mason, weakling, useless" They all laughed as they scattered his books, making the pages scatter out of his reach. They had destroyed his chair, causing him to fall on the floor in the front of the entire class. Even the teachers seemed to dismiss him as if he was a burden on their prestigious institution.
"I'm just a piece of shit, I'm full of shit, I mean just look at me, look at myself" Mason said to himself.
His face felt hot with shame and frustration, and his heart ached with loneliness. He was constantly reminded that he didn't belong, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
As he entered his quiet home, he couldn't help but notice the empty spaces on the walls where family wands should have been displayed. His parents, both accomplished magicians, had never spoken of their own magical heritage or the secrets that haunted their past.
Mason's eyes drifted to the pair of gloves sitting on his desk, a constant reminder of his apparent magical inadequacy.
"Gloves?" Mason said mockingly.
He has been waiting for the day when he could prove to everyone that he was more than just a magic-less outcast, but now, all he felt was the weight of disappointment and despair.
"I wonder what I'm even good at, no wand, no magic, nothing and yet I was born into a family of magicians " Mason said angrily.
Mason's frustration was clear, and as he made his way to his room, he felt a heavy sense of defeat m Despite his best efforts to fit in and prove his worth, he was constantly met with ridicule and rejection.
As he lay on his bed, he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander and imagine any possibility m He pictured himself as a powerful sorcerer, welding a wand with ease and performing spells that would astonish even the most powerful magicians.
But then reality set in and the weight of his situation fell on his shoulders once again. He knew that his circumstances were far from over and that the journey ahead would be a difficult one.
As he opened his eyes, his gaze went to the gloves once more. They were a curious object that looked ordinary yet somehow powerful. He wondered if they held the key to unlocking his potential or if they were merely a cruel reminder of his shortcomings.
Mason was determined to uncover the true purpose of the gloves, Mason vows to seek answers and find his place in the magical world no matter how hard the task may be.
After some minutes of lying in the bed looking all frustrated as he took a look at the gloves that were on the table.
"Why was I left with nothing other than these stupid glasses?" Mason said as he picked up the gloves and put them on and they became invincible in his hands.
"What the hell, it has a touch of magic on it. Why on earth would they pass this down to me then ,instead of a wand and spell book." Mason said.
He had no need for gloves to keep him warm, which made their significance all the more puzzling. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he voiced his confusion aloud.
I just need to activate my magic" immediately Mason said those words, the gloves in hands began to vibrate.

Latest Chapter
Chapter 24
The storm had followed Mason for miles. Rain lashed against his cloak as he trudged through the windswept field outside the city. Behind him, the golden spires of Argent Academy were little more than specks. Before him, hills rolled like sleeping beasts beneath a sky of ash. The land was empty now. Forgotten. No students. No guards. No wards.Only the wind. And what lay beyond it. He adjusted the strap of his satchel, the pendant of Aethra tucked safely inside. It hadn’t pulsed since the attack. But he could still feel its weight against his skin, its hum just beneath his heartbeat.He followed the map Solara had given him. A crude sketch, really. But it marked a single destination with bold black ink, The Hollow Gate.It was said to be older than Argent itself. A prison. A sanctuary. A rift.The road curved down into a rocky gorge, where gnarled trees leaned like mourners and pale blue mist clung to the roots. The deeper he went, the colder it grew.The path ended at a broken arch
Chapter 23
The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the towers of Argent Academy already shimmered with wardlight. Protective glyphs glowed along the spires like veins of fire, pulsing with alarm. Over the past hour, every bell in the fortress had rung in a chaotic cadence. Because Mason Reed had returned from the Vault of Silence… alive. And not alone.The Pendant of Aethra pulsed steadily at his throat, casting rings of light and shadow onto the cracked marble of the eastern courtyard. Mason stood alone in its center, the suit rippling beneath his uniform like something that breathed. The dagger at his hip remained sheathed, for now.Across the courtyard, fifteen silver-robed enforcers gathered at the edge of the east gate, staffs raised, shields flickering around their bodies. Among them stood John Virell, wand drawn, and his eyes locked on Mason. Above them, Councilor Thorne watched from a floating dais, arms crossed.“Mason Reed,” Thorne’s voice echoed like a thunderclap. “You are hereby commanded
Chapter 22
The scent of old parchment and dust clung to the air as Mason descended the winding staircase behind the restricted archives. Few knew it existed, an ancient tunnel carved beneath the Academy’s foundations. Its walls shimmered faintly with embedded warding runes, most of them inactive, some flickering like dying stars.At the base of the stairwell, a brass door stood half open. Faint candlelight flickered beyond.Mason pushed it fully open and stepped inside. Edgar was waiting.The warlock stood over a wide table littered with scrolls, rune-etched diagrams, and half-burned candles. His black coat was more tattered than usual, and his eyes had heavy shadows beneath them. “I was wondering when you’d find me,” he said without turning.“You weren’t exactly easy to find,” Mason said.“Wasn’t trying to be.” Edgar finally looked at him. “I heard about the blood oath.”Mason pulled back his collar to reveal the glowing imprint just above his heart.Edgar grimaced. “You let them brand you.”“
Chapter 21
The great bell of Argent Academy tolled twelve times. By the last echo, the sky had dimmed to a brooding shade of violet. Magic hummed like a low storm beneath the surface of the grounds, stronger, thicker, like the air was waiting to explode.Mason sat alone at the edge of the reflecting pool near the south tower, his back against a moss-covered stone lion. The dagger sat on his lap, wrapped in a scrap of cloth, though its presence still pulsed through the fabric. The suit beneath his robes itched, alive, alert. It had been ever since the Eyes Within vanished into mist and whispers.“Things are moving,” he whispered to himself. “Faster than I thought.”He didn’t hear the footsteps until they stopped beside him. “You’re lucky I didn’t blast you,” Norra said, sitting beside him.“Was that an option?”She shrugged. “Probably still is.”He glanced sideways at her. Her hood was down, red streaks in her hair catching the last bit of sunset light. Her face was tight. Alert. Scared, thoug
Chapter Twenty
The wind screamed around the airship like a wild animal. Clouds covered the sky, dark and heavy. The airship moved lower, its glowing runes blinking and sparking, as if they were scared of what waited below.Mason stood at the very front of the ship, holding his cloak tight around him. Cold rain hit his face. He had not slept since the fight in the Whispering Woods. None of them had. Not even for a second.Norra stood beside him. Her arms were crossed, and her sharp eyes stared into the thick clouds.“Something’s wrong,” she said, her voice quiet.Mason nodded slowly. “I feel it too. It's... too quiet.”Footsteps sounded behind them. Felton came up from below deck. His face was pale, almost white.“The captain says there’s interference,” Felton said. “The Academy’s wards... they’re not stable.”“What do you mean they’re not stable?” Aurora asked. She stepped out of the shadows, her long red coat flapping in the wind.Felton swallowed. “They’re... flickering. Fading in and out.”“They'
Chapter Nineteen
The dagger still pulsed in Mason’s grip. Each throb sent a ripple of heat up his arm, like something alive had embedded itself into his veins. He stared at the blade. It no longer looked like forged metal, it shimmered, a dark sheen rippling just beneath the surface, like oil sliding over water. The crimson runes on its hilt glowed faintly in the gloom. Aurora took a cautious step forward. “What just happened?”Mason rose to his feet slowly, still gripping the blade. “I think… it bonded to me.”She studied him. “You mean like the suit?”He nodded. “Yeah. Like the suit.”The dagger pulsed again. The roots around the stone altar began to move.“Nope,” Aurora said. “I don’t like that.”The roots groaned, stretching, slithering back like serpents. The pedestal cracked. The air thickened with pressure.Then the trees screamed. Not like animals. Like people.High, shrill wails echoed through the Whispering Woods. Mason grabbed Aurora’s arm and pulled her back as the clearing around them b
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