Previously on…Aaric freezes water, inherits a castle, meets bowing centaurs, and casually drops he’s chosen by a snake goddess—just your average Tuesday for an eight-year-old wizard.

Edwina’s clan in India was widely regarded as the most skilled group of healers in the magical world.

Their unparalleled reputation came from their use of Parseltongue in healing—a secret, sacred tradition passed down through generations.

But what outsiders didn’t know was that her clan were not just healers; they were also formidable fighters.

Over centuries, they had developed spells in Parseltongue—spells far more potent and precise than any common wizard magic—handed down in secret through bloodlines and ritual.

Another rare trait of the clan was their belief in gods, something most wizards found quaint or outdated.

Among those deities, they revered Vasuki, the serpent goddess, who was both patron and protector of the clan.

To them, she wasn’t just a divine symbol—she had once walked the earth in mortal form as a woman named Aeloria Nightshade, the first of their line.

That night, after returning to their room, Edwina spoke to Simon in a low, serious voice.

She told him about the visions and stirrings within the bloodline, about Aeloria… and her growing belief that Aeloria had chosen Aaric as her successor.

Simon’s brows furrowed in concern.

“If that’s true,” he said, “it might attract dangers even I can’t protect my little prince from.”

But Edwina reached for his hand and held it tightly.

“Then we’ll stand together and protect him,” she said.

“Whatever it takes.”

The next morning, the family gathered in the mansion’s entrance hall, dressed in comfortable travel clothes.

Aaric wore the ring and held the hands of his parents.

He spoke the word:

“Vasuki.”

And with a soft pop, the three of them vanished.

They landed on soft earth before a grand sight—a towering castle of blackstone, laced with glowing runes that pulsed gently in the morning light.

“It’s… comparable to Hogwarts,” Simon murmured in awe.

Aaric took a moment to steady himself after the teleportation, and Edwina gently patted his back.

“Let’s go meet the centaur tribe,” said Simon.

“They know every corner of this island—and it seems they’re here to serve you, son.”

As the family entered the centaur village, the herd immediately noticed Aaric.

They bowed to him—a surreal sight, watching proud, towering centaurs lower their heads before a child.

“Welcome to the village of the Astratherion Herd, my lord,” said the centaur leader, his voice calm and respectful.

He was called Orion, and he offered to personally guide the family around the island.

The island was lush and alive.

Its forests teemed with magical beasts—unicorns, thestrals, mooncalves, and even rare magical hybrids—all living in perfect harmony.

The very land seemed to shift subtly with the seasons, shaped by enchantments that maintained balance and beauty.

Even the beasts appeared drawn to Aaric.

They offered the family rides, nuzzled against them, and gifted rare items—scales, feathers, and other magical parts they had naturally shed over the years.

Finally, they arrived before the gates of Castle Aeloria—sleek and imposing, its blackstone walls etched with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“I must leave you now,” Orion said at the entrance.

“You will be in the care of the castle’s guardian.”

With that, he turned and departed.

As they stepped inside, a figure awaited them just beyond the threshold.

A humanoid being stood tall, with bark-like skin etched with glowing blue veins.

His hair looked like flowing moss woven with silver threads, and his eyes gleamed like pale blue crystals, pupil-less and ancient.

“I am Thimrill, a Velaryn—a rare magical being born of tree spirits and lightning,” he said, his voice slow but warm.

“I have guarded this castle since its inception. Welcome.”

The family followed him inside and were surprised to find the castle not cold and grim, but bright, spotless, and serene.

The floors and walls were polished white marble, and enchantments flowed softly through the halls.

Inside Castle Aeloria, the air was cool and still, yet heavy with ancient magic.

The vast corridors echoed softly with each step.

Tall arched windows lined the halls, glowing faintly even without sunlight.

The Great Hall was circular with a domed ceiling that reflected the sky above in real time.

Phoenixes roosted high in the rafters, their radiant feathers warming the air.

A few circled down around Aaric, singing as they playfully danced through the air.

Next, Thimrill led them to the treasury, and even Simon was taken aback—not by the piles of gold, but by the ancient artifacts, each shimmering with runes and layered enchantments.

“Most of these were crafted by the goblins who live on the island,” Thimrill explained.

Simon raised a brow.

“Not like those greedy bas—buggers from Gringotts, I hope?” he said, dodging an elbow from Edwina.

Thimrill tilted his head thoughtfully.

“I do not know of the others, but our goblins are not greedy.

They would give their lives for the young lord.

They are master smiths—perhaps greater than those you’ve encountered.

They have honed their craft and shared their knowledge freely for centuries.”

Simon was surprised. He didn’t believe goblins were beneath him—but being a wealthy lord, he’d grown used to Gringotts goblins trying to exploit him, and that had shaped his views.

Aaric’s eyes lit up at the glittering treasures.

Simon chuckled and tapped him on the forehead.

“We’re not much poorer than this, you know—well… if we’re only counting gold.”

Aaric rubbed his forehead, then asked with curiosity,

“Do we have spellbooks, potion scrolls, and ritual texts here?”

“We do,” said Thimrill with a smile.

He guided them to the castle library.

The family explored the immense library, its curved shelves filled with tomes of magic old and forgotten.

They didn’t take the original books.

Instead, Thimrill provided blank ones, and they used duplication spells to copy what they needed.

Simon selected the oldest and most advanced books on ice magic, hoping to refine his Chillaria spell series, along with high-level potion texts.

Edwina picked out ritual and healing books, eager to expand her knowledge for both her son and herself.

Meanwhile, Aaric stood in a corner, deep in conversation with Thimrill.

Probably up to some mischief, his parents thought.

Before they left the library, Thimrill handed them a small enchanted statue of a thunderbird.

“Link this to the wards of your house,” he said.

“You’ll then be able to travel between the castle and your mansion at will.

It will also enhance your home’s magical defenses.”

Later, Thimrill showed them to the sleeping quarters, and they each chose rooms with windows facing the moon.

That night, bathed in soft moonlight, the family drifted into sleep beneath the watchful presence of phoenixes and ancient magic.

A/n : I was excited to write this chapter and i hope you like it.

stones and comments please.

Up next : the first ritual for the family

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