Series 97

Night fell over Camelot, and silence enveloped the ancient corridors, laden with stories and secrets that the stones had guarded for centuries. Douxie walked slowly, carrying a huge stack of books that Merlin had ordered to be stored in the library. He was tall, thin, his messy black hair falling over his face, his clothes a little too baggy, and with that unmistakable air of someone who never managed to do anything right.

He tried to keep his balance, but as always, everything seemed to conspire against him. He had already tripped twice over stones he swore hadn't been there before, and the books kept slipping from his hands. Even though he had royal permission to use magic, he preferred to carry them in his lap; the last time he tried to levitate them, the books flew everywhere and almost hit King Arthur on the head. The scolding he received was memorable.

"One day I'll learn..." he murmured, sighing. "One day I'll do something right without breaking anything or making anyone laugh at me."

He didn't know it, but he wasn't alone. Further on, hidden in the deep shadows of a column, Faloys observed everything with absolute attention. His body was covered by a cloak made of darkness itself, which molded to him like a second skin, forming a long hood that covered everything. On his face, a dark mask that shone with a weak, cold light, concealed any trace of his identity. To anyone else, he was just another shadow among so many others, but he saw every movement, every stumble, every expression of insecurity. Faloys was the eldest heir to the title of Prince of Magic, son of the greatest guardians of natural magic. But long before Douxie was born, he abandoned everything, turned against his people—elves, kings, and mages—and everyone believed he had died. Now he served the Arcane Order: Belrock, Scklael, and Nari, the primordial mages. His mission was clear: to find the Prince of Magic, the living heir to the lineage to which he himself once belonged.

The user is Hisirdoux Casperan