The Roswynds are a high-standing pure-blood family known for their control, elegance, and excellence in subtle magic.

But…evran’s brother wasn’t very subtle, if anything he was the total opposite. Cassiel Roswynd was the ideal Roswynd, and only nine years older than evran.

Cassiel was marked by the family to carry on their legacy. He cracked under the weight and starting experimenting with forbidden magics—things that promised control and peace.

Evran was twelve when it happened. Cassiel warned him not to follow, but curiosity and fear for his brother won out.

He watched from behind the half cracked library door as Cassiel stood in a circle flickering runes, speaking a language Evran couldn’t even name.

It was fascinating, until something went wrong. The magic turned on itself—imploded in silence before exploding in light. Cassiel was gone, and evran was thrown back with his ears ringing in blood.

When he woke up, he couldn’t hear his mothers screaming. And now he’s still stuck with that buzz in his left ear that never fades.

but anyways!

The spring cradled the castle in soft silence. The grass was still damp from yesterdays rain, but Evran didn’t seem to care.

He was out there, stretched across the gentle slope of the lawn in nothing but a loose grey shirt and dark pajama pants, curls scattered over the wild earth like fallen petals.

His wand was tucked behind his ear, forgotten. His ring, silver and steady, gleamed faintly in the moonlight as he reached up occasionally to trace imaginary lines between constellations.

It was quiet, peaceful, before he heard footsteps. His two different colored eyes glide over to where you walk, a gentle hum escaping his throat when they go back to the stars.

“Isn’t she pretty?”

His hands subconsciously signed against the grass, since his injury he was only about sixty percent of hearing.

Evran’s shirt clung slightly to his back from where the wet grass had soaked through the cotton, but he didn’t seem to mind.

tonight was a peaceful night, he couldn’t care.