A Silver Mark, A Thousand Desires

THE QUIET WIZARD

Every Woman’s Dream

An adult fantasy of desire, dangerous magic, and irresistible secrets

LIGHTBORN

No part of this book may be copied, stored, or shared by any means without the author’s permission, except where permitted by law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

First edition manuscript

ADULT FANTASY EDITION

All romantic and sexual characters in this story are adults. Lien is twenty-six; Aurelia is twenty-nine; Elise is twenty-seven; Violet is thirty-one; Joseph is twenty-seven; Elineth and Lenith are twenty-six; Seraphina is thirty-eight; and the other adult characters are established as adults in the narrative. Moonveil is an academy for adult mages, not a school for minors.

DEDICATION

For everyone who has ever felt different, yet kept their light alive.

CONTENTS:

The Invitation

Rain fell over the city of Moonveil. The streets shone beneath the lamps. Tall towers stood behind black walls, and silver lights moved in the clouds above them. Far away, a bell rang from the top of an old castle.

People stopped and looked toward the sound. Then they went back to work. In Moonveil, strange things happened every day. A man could turn water into glass. A woman could open a locked door with one finger. Magic was part of life.

But power was everything.

Rich families held the best land. Strong mages ruled the courts. People with famous names walked through the city as if the streets belonged to them. Those without power had to work twice as hard to earn half as much respect.

That was why most people did not notice the young man walking alone in the rain.

He wore a black coat, an old white shirt, and worn boots. His dark hair was wet. A small bag hung from one shoulder. His name was Lien, and at twenty-six he had already learned that silence could be mistaken for weakness—or mistaken for an invitation to discover what lay beneath it.

He had come to Moonveil with little money, one old book, and a strange mark beneath the skin of his wrist. He did not know who had made the mark. He did not know why it sometimes grew warm. And he did not know why, in his dreams, he often saw a silver door beneath a black sky.

He only knew one thing. He wanted a place where he could live in peace.

The Fallen Apples

As Lien crossed the market, a wooden cart broke beside the road. Red apples rolled everywhere. People stepped around them. Some were too busy to help. Others looked at the old seller and kept walking.

Lien stopped. He put down his bag and began to collect the apples.

“You do not have to do that, young man,” the old seller said.

“I know,” Lien replied. “But the apples are not going to pick themselves up.”

The old man laughed. Together, they placed the apples back in the cart. When they finished, the seller reached into his pocket.

“Take these coins. You helped me.”

Lien shook his head. “Keep them. You may need them more than I do.”

“You need money too.”

“Then I will find some.”

The old man looked at him for a long moment. “May the stars be kind to you.”

Lien smiled. “That would be nice.”

He picked up his bag and continued down the road.

From the other side of the market, a woman had watched the whole thing. She wore a dark red coat and a silver ring. She had seen rich men give money to the poor in front of a crowd. She had seen powerful mages help people only when someone was watching.

But this young man had helped an old seller and walked away without asking for anything.

She wondered who he was.

A Little Fire

Lien reached a narrow street near the old bridge. Three young men stood around a stone table. One of them held a small ball of red fire above his hand. He wore a fine coat with a gold mark on the sleeve.

A poor boy stood before him, holding a broken basket.

“Pick it up,” the rich young man said.

The boy bent down. The young man laughed and moved the basket away with his foot.

Lien stopped. “That is enough.”

The three men turned. The rich young man looked Lien up and down.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who thinks you have had your fun.”

The man smiled. “Do you know who my family is?”

“No.”

“Then you should be careful.”

He raised his hand. The red fire grew brighter. Lien looked at the flame. For one brief moment, the rain around them seemed to stop. A warm feeling moved through the mark on his wrist.

The fire went out.

Not slowly. Not with a bang. It was simply gone.

The young man stared at his hand. “What did you do?”

Lien looked just as surprised. “Nothing.”

The man tried again. A small flame appeared, shook, and vanished.

The street fell quiet. Lien felt the mark grow cold beneath his skin. He picked up the poor boy’s basket and handed it back.

“Go home,” he said.

The boy ran. Lien turned to leave. The rich young man did not try to stop him. He was too busy staring at his own hand.

The Old Book

That night, Lien reached the room he had rented. It was small and cold. One window looked toward the rooftops. A little table stood beside the bed.

He placed his bag on the floor and took out an old book. The book had no title. Its cover was dark grey, and a silver line ran around the edge. The lock had been broken for as long as Lien could remember.

Most of the pages were empty. But one page held a drawing of a silver moon crossed by a thin line. Lien touched the mark on his wrist. The same shape lay beneath his skin.

He remembered a woman from his childhood. She had given him the book when he was very young. He could still remember her face, but not her name. She had told him only one thing.

“One day, the mark will wake. When it does, you must follow the door.”

Lien had asked what door she meant. She had not answered.

Now, years later, he still had no answer.

He turned the page. A new line appeared.

WHEN THE MOON CALLS, GO TO MOONVEIL.

Lien sat still. Outside, the rain grew heavier.

Then someone knocked on his door.

He opened it. No one stood in the hall. A black envelope lay on the floor. It had a silver seal in the shape of a moon and a thorn.

Inside was a letter.

To the bearer of the silver mark,

You are invited to the Midnight Masquerade at Moonveil Academy.

Come before the final bell.

Bring the old book.

Come alone.

Your past is waiting.

There was no name at the bottom.

Lien read it again. Then he looked at the mark on his wrist.

It had begun to shine.

The Road to Moonveil

The next evening, Lien walked toward the academy. The road climbed through a forest of tall black trees. Silver lamps stood along the path. Far above, the towers of Moonveil Academy rose into the clouds.

The building looked more like a palace than a school. Its walls were made of dark stone. Its windows shone with warm light. A great gate stood before the entrance, covered in old magic marks.

Two guards watched Lien approach.

“Name?” one asked.

“Lien.”

“Family name?”

Lien paused. “I use Lien.”

The guard looked at his old clothes. “That is not how the records work.”

“I understand.”

“Then tell me your full name.”

Lien opened his mouth. For a moment, he could not speak. He did not know why the name felt so far away. He had heard it in dreams. He had seen it written in the old book. Yet whenever he tried to say it, something seemed to hold the words back.

The second guard looked at the letter. Then he saw the silver seal. His face changed.

“Let him pass.”

“Why?” the first guard asked.

“Because the principal’s own mark is on that letter.”

The gate opened. Lien stepped into the academy.

A bell rang above him. Once. Twice. Then a third time.

The silver mark on his wrist grew warm. Somewhere deep beneath the school, an ancient door began to move. And for the first time in a hundred years, the stones of Moonveil whispered a name they had long forgotten.

INTERMISSION

ELUREA LIEN UNCASTED

THE BOY HAS RETURNED.