Morning light slipped through the curtains, bathing Sora’s room in a soft golden glow. As had become routine lately, he lay asleep right on the edge of the bed, tangled up in messy sheets. He tossed so much in his dreams that the poor mattress seemed too small for him.
One more roll… and thud!
The impact against the floor along with a flurry of bedding, snapped him awake. Dazed, hair a mess and the blanket still wrapped around one leg, he blinked several times, trying to figure out what just happened.
The door flew open.
“Sora?” Tsukari’s voice carried a hint of alarm.
His mother peeked in, then brought a hand to her lips… and couldn’t hold back a bright, tinkling laugh.
“Are you okay?” she asked between giggles.
Cheeks burning, lips puckered into a little pout, Sora looked at her like the universe itself had wronged him. “It’s not funny…” he muttered only making Tsukari laugh harder.
Still smiling, she stepped into the room and helped him up, giving the sheets a quick shake.
“Well, you’re awake now. Change out of your pajamas and come down for breakfast, alright? It’s getting late and the food’s getting cold.”
Sora nodded with a small, grumbly sound. Just as Tsukari turned to leave, he noticed something, her belly had rounded a little more, a gentle curve he hadn’t seen so clearly before.
For a moment, his eyes stayed fixed there.
It wasn’t much, but the change was obvious… and that slight swell felt like a fragile, precious secret. A strange warmth rose in his chest, a mix of curiosity and nerves. He still wasn’t sure he was ready to be an older brother, but he couldn’t help wondering what that tiny life would be like once it arrived and whether, this time, he’d manage to do better than in his previous life.
He shook his head and sighed, trying to drive the thoughts away.
“Come down soon, okay?” Tsukari said before gently closing the door.
Sora hurried to get dressed and went downstairs. The smell of freshly baked bread and honey tea wrapped around him as he stepped into the kitchen. Aeris was setting down a steaming plate while Alvaron looked over some papers at the table.
Through the open window drifted distant sounds: hammering, lively voices, and the peal of bells from Rulid’s plaza. Outside, the whole town was already busy with preparations for the Harvest Festival.
The aroma of warm bread and honeyed tea filled the kitchen. Morning light slanted in through the window, painting the wooden table gold. Still a little tousle-haired and heavy-eyed, Sora greeted his parents the same as always before taking his seat.
Alvaron was there, like he had been these past few days, sipping his coffee with the unhurried calm of someone in no rush to head out. Sora still wasn’t used to seeing him like this; before, his father would have been out by now, inspecting the fields or meeting with the overseers. Ever since Tsukari’s pregnancy was announced, mornings seemed different. Alvaron was more present, attentive to every detail, as if determined not to let even the slightest discomfort touch his wife.
Aeris passed by and set a steaming plate on the table: warm bread, cut fruit, and a small bowl of honey. Sora murmured a “thanks” as he took a piece of bread, but he was soon distracted.
From the open window beyond the garden came sounds that broke Rulid’s usual morning quiet: animated chatter, laughter mixed with the knocking of wooden frames going up, the clatter of buckets and barrels being moved, and, every so often, a sharp ring of bells.
Sora tilted his head, curious.
“Why is it so noisy outside?” he asked at last, still half-sleepy.
Alvaron looked up from his cup, a faint, almost proud smile curving his lips.
“It’s the Harvest Festival, son. The whole town’s wrapped up in preparations. We’ve worked hard these past weeks to have everything ready… and today, finally, is the day. Tonight, Rulid will be lit with lanterns, music, and laughter.”
Sora listened in silence, chewing slowly as his father’s words painted pictures in his head. He’d heard about the festival these last few days, but he had never seen it with his own eyes. Ever since he woke up with his memories, whenever he thought about public events like this, part of him felt tempted to try them… and another part remembered why he couldn’t.
He took a sip of tea and, after a few seconds’ hesitation, asked in a calm tone:
“I understand… I’d like to go see the festival, but I guess I can’t this year either, right, Father?”
It wasn’t asked with the childish impatience one might expect. There was no pleading or complaint—only a calm acceptance, like someone who understands a rule that won’t change… even if, deep down, it still stung.
Alvaron held his son’s gaze for a moment before setting his cup down. His eyes shifted, as if he wanted to give an answer that wouldn’t hurt. Sora already knew what his father had to say.
Alvaron and Tsukari traded a quick look before replying. It wasn’t an easy topic, but they didn’t want to shut him down with a flat “no,” either. The simple path was best.
“Son,” Alvaron began gently, “it won’t be possible this year. There’ll be a lot of people outside, and it isn’t always safe for everyone. We want you to enjoy the festival someday but when we’re sure there won’t be any risks for you.”
Tsukari, seated across from Sora, smiled softly and set a hand over his.
“It’s not that we don’t want you to go… it’s just better to wait a little longer for now.”
Sora listened in silence, then simply nodded. There was no anger in his eyes—only acceptance. He took another bite of bread, and as he did, something sparked in his mind.
“And…” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet, “when will I be able to use the spell Mom always uses when she leaves the house?”
Tsukari blinked, surprised, then smiled wider.
“Polimorfis?” she asked, leaning toward him.
Sora nodded, curiosity bright in his eyes.
“Listen, sweetheart,” she began patiently. “It’s not as easy as saying a few words and zap, you’ve changed shape. To use it, you first have to discover your own magical qualities. That takes time and training. Everyone has a different affinity, and learning yours is the first step before you can shape it with spells.”
Sora watched her intently, trying to etch each word into his memory. He wasn’t about to pout or beg to learn it right away; that wasn’t him. Instead, a faint buzz of interest stirred in his chest. So there’s a path to it…
What exactly was magic?
How did it work?
Was it like in the video games he’d loved in his previous life, skills, levels, and powers you could learn little by little?
His mother started speaking again, but Sora was barely listening anymore. The seed had been planted, and his mind was already sketching paths that, without knowing it, would take him far beyond the walls of his home.
After breakfast, Tsukari rose calmly. She slipped on a light shawl and, before leaving, cast one last look at Sora.
“We’ll be back before noon,” she said gently.
Alvaron was already on his feet. He offered her his arm as if escorting a queen, and the two of them headed out toward the town to oversee the festival preparations. Ever since the pregnancy news, Alvaron hadn’t strayed more than a few steps from her, as if his very presence were a shield against any mishap.
The door closed, and the kitchen settled into a warm hush, broken only by the clink of dishes and the murmur of the breeze drifting in through the window. Sora stayed seated, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on an invisible point in the tablecloth.
So, magic, huh? he thought, narrowing his eyes. Since arriving in this world, he’d seen it in action in his mother, in the little tricks Aeris used around the house, and in the occasional traveler passing through Rulid. Even so, he’d poured his time into learning to read and write first, figuring that foundation came before anything else.
Do we have any books about it in the study?
While his mind was busy laying out a plan, Aeris was clearing the plates with quick, sure movements. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was up to something; she knew that fixed stare well, that sudden stillness that never lasted more than a few minutes before Sora vanished to chase one of his ideas.
“I can hear your gears turning from here,” she said, half amused, half on alert, stacking the cutlery.
Sora turned his head, trying for innocence, but the little smirk that slipped out gave him away.
Aeris set a plate down on the table and looked straight at him.
“What are you plotting now, little one?” she asked, folding her arms.
Sora averted his gaze, but said nothing. Aeris sighed with a resigned smile; she was certain that spark she’d seen in his eyes when Tsukari explained polimorfis was about to bring one of those “ideas” that usually ended in small adventures… or a proper scolding.
Sora looked up at Aeris, who was still clearing the last dishes from the table. For a moment he watched her in silence, as if gauging the exact timing to play his best card. Then he tilted his head a little, let his violet eyes open a touch wider than usual, and in a soft, syrupy voice uttered the words he knew could topple any resistance:
“Big Sis Aeris…” he drew out the tone just a second, as if to make sure he had her full attention “could you help me look for a book in the study? There are some really tall shelves and… well… I can’t reach to see everything that’s there.”
Aeris paused just as she was about to stack two bowls, and glanced at him over her shoulder. A small smile tugged at her lips, though she tried to hide it behind a brief sigh. Sora had long since learned that nickname “Big Sis Aeris” had a special effect on her. And even if it didn’t catch her off guard like before, she couldn’t deny it moved her every time she heard it.
“Of course, Sora,” she answered at last, warmth softening her voice. “Give me a moment to take all this to the kitchen and I’ll help you.”
She gathered the dishes with quick steps, and as she left down the hallway, Sora noticed a smile she couldn’t quite suppress. He loved that both he and Nanami called her that “Big Sis”; deep down, it didn’t feel like just a nickname, but a small promise that she’d always be there for them.
He sat swinging his feet under the table as he listened to her bustle in the kitchen: the chime of cutlery, the solid thump of a cupboard closing, the murmur of water in the basin. When she returned, Aeris was drying her hands on her apron, a few strands of hair having slipped free of her bun.
“All right, let’s go then, Sora,” she said, tipping her head slightly toward the dining room door.
He needed no further invitation. He hopped to his feet nearly tipping the chair and followed her down the hall. The floorboards creaked softly under their steps, and with each corner they passed, Sora felt a little closer to his goal. In his mind, he ran through the study’s shelves he remembered, imagining which one might hide a tome on magic. If there was a hint, even a small one, he intended to find it.
Aeris watched him from the corner of her eye with a blend of curiosity and resignation. She knew that way of walking: the gait of a child who, even while trying to look calm, carried an idea in his head he had no intention of letting go. And no matter how innocent he tried to appear, she could already tell this wasn’t just a passing whim.
They climbed the stairs, the corridor guiding them to the tall, dark-wood door that guarded the study. As they entered, the scent of aged paper and dried ink mingled with the gentle aroma of waxed wood. Morning light poured through a wide window, slipping in as golden shafts that fell across the furniture and set tiny motes of dust to dancing lazily in the air.
Sora walked straight to one of the large bookcases, his small fingers gliding over the polished surface as he tilted his head back toward the highest shelves. Aeris closed the door behind them, watching him with one eyebrow arched.
“What book are you looking for, Sora?” she asked in a curious tone, though deep down she suspected the answer might not be entirely honest.
The boy turned to her with that bright look he used whenever he wanted the impossible.
“Big Sis Aeris… could you lift me up for a moment? I want to see what’s up there.”
Aeris studied him, torn between suspicion and resignation, then sighed. She stepped close and took him under the arms, lifting him with ease, though the difference was immediate. He wasn’t heavy, but compared to a couple years ago, his body had gained height and a touch more solidity. She knew his weight from all the times he sat in her lap to read, but holding him like this made it feel different.
Sora leaned back against her as his eyes swept along the neat row of spines. He moved his gaze slowly from one title to the next, lips faintly shaping the words as he read them silently. Aeris held him steady, arms firm yet relaxed.
“Find what you’re after, Sora?”
He shook his head without looking away. This shelf had nothing to do with his goal: mostly volumes on the geography and history of Elythera, plenty he recognized from the reading lessons Aeris had given him and Nanami. Map collections, city-foundation accounts, chronicles of old wars… nothing on magic.
“Mmm… nothing I’m looking for here,” he said at last with a small sigh. Then he tipped his face up to her. “Could you take me to the other shelf, Aeris?”
She let out a brief laugh at his bluntness, but she didn’t refuse.
“Alright, let’s go.” She adjusted her hold on him and carried him over to the other bookcase, her steps sounding softly over the wooden floor as the dust in the air swirled at their passing.
At the second shelf, Aeris held him a little more firmly while he scanned the titles, brow furrowed and lips pressed into a small line of concentration. His small fingers moved just a little, tracing each word along the spines as if it helped him process what he read.
After a few minutes of inspection, something caught his eye. On a higher shelf, tucked between thick volumes on agricultural theory and trade treaties, a worn spine with gilt letters peeked out:
“Introduction to Magical Fundamentals.”
His eyes lit up. He kept searching with renewed focus and, a bit lower down, found another book, thinner, but carefully bound, whose title was just as tempting:
“The Flow of Mana in Elythera.”
“I found exactly what I was looking for!” he blurted, turning his head toward Aeris as if he’d just unearthed a treasure.
Aeris, still supporting him, tilted a smile. She wasn’t surprised… not entirely. After the conversation his parents had had that morning, Sora’s sudden excitement made the connection pretty clear.
Gently, she set him back down. Without wasting a second, Sora stretched up to pull the two books free and strode them over to the low table in front of the study’s plush chair. He laid them down with care, like fragile, precious pieces.
Aeris watched him for a few seconds, a mix of fondness and caution in her eyes. Finally, she spoke.
“Sora… I don’t want to discourage you, but don’t get carried away thinking you’ll learn magic just by reading those.”
He looked up at her and answered with a calm, faint smile. “I know, Big Sis Aeris… but I want to read about it and try to understand at least a little.”
She breathed out softly, and instead of arguing, gave him one of those warm smiles that seemed to wrap around him.
“Alright, Sora… while you read, I’m going back to my chores. If you need anything, please call me.”
“I will,” he nodded.
Aeris turned to go, but before stepping out she cast one last look over her shoulder. She saw him there, leaning over the books, curiosity shining in his eyes. The sight tugged at something inside her… as if she were witnessing the beginning of something important.
Left alone, Sora ran a hand over the cover of the first book, feeling the worn marks in the aged leather. Around him, the study’s quiet seemed to grow denser; the faint creak of pages as he opened it sounded almost like a whisper inviting him into a completely new world.
He set his elbows on the table, leaning in as if afraid the book might slip away. With small, careful hands he lifted the leather cover, listening to the soft crack of old hinges. The scent of old paper wrapped around him at once, a blend of gentle dust and dried ink that seemed to murmur of forgotten stories.
Unable to hold back, he flipped through the pages quickly at first, like someone giving a treasure a first eager glance. Between dense paragraphs and columns of text, flashes made him stop: intricate diagrams of magic circles, symbols interlocking like perfect gears, and charts showing streams of mana flowing through human figures, lines and arrows mapping invisible paths.
His heart gave a small jump. This is going to be interesting… he thought, that expectation mixing with the tingle of an idea he’d been waiting a long time to explore.
He returned to the first page. Beneath the title, “Introduction to the Basic Fundamentals of Magic,” he found lines that felt like a welcome into that world:
What is magic?
Throughout history, it has been understood as the ability to give shape to mana, that essential energy that saturates our world.
Basically, magic is the ability to model mana from a gentle gust of wind to a roaring blaze, through spells that mold and guide its flow.
Sora went still for a few seconds, letting the words settle in his mind. A wave of emotion ran through his chest, as if the text had put into ink something he’d always suspected.
In his previous life, he’d never imagined magic as a simple trick of speaking words and getting an automatic result, but as something that required you to visualize, to imagine… to give it form. He believed real magic needed a soul, an intent to guide that invisible energy.
Now, before him, a book from this world seemed to confirm it.
So I was right?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The thought filled him with such pure excitement that, for a moment, he forgot he was alone in the study.
His fingers tightened slightly on the book’s edges. If this was only the introduction, what other secrets waited inside these pages?
Sora turned a page, and his eyes stopped on a new header written in ornamented letters:
Magical Affinities and the Elements That Predominate Within Them
The lines that followed opened a door to a whole array of possibilities. Each paragraph came with small ink engravings, stylized depictions of flames, waves, mountains, or lightning.
He read in silence, absorbing every word.
Fire: the element of change and rebirth.
Properly controlled, it could work wonders: offer the warmth that sustained life, kindle hearths on frozen nights, and forge the metals that would build entire cities. Mishandled, it could erase in minutes what had taken generations to raise. The text described it as a relatively unstable element, linked to people of mercurial temperaments—but with warm hearts that blazed with intensity when it came to protecting what they loved.
Sora pictured a crackling bonfire in the middle of a winter night… and also a wildfire devouring a forest. Light and destruction… held in the same hand.
Wind: the element of calm.
It was what moved the world: it drove ships, carried seeds to new horizons, and swept cloudy skies clean. And yet, it could bring tempests and devastating hurricanes. It was associated with those who had free, serene hearts, but enough strength to unleash their fury when the situation demanded it.
Sora closed his eyes for a second, imagining a warm breeze on his face… suddenly turning into a gale that ripped trees up by the roots
Water: the element that gives life.
It flowed across the entire world, filling rivers, seas, and rain, allowing life to multiply. It was tied to people who could adapt, who flowed around problems and empathized with others no matter their origin.
To Sora, water wore his mother’s face: calm, vital, always ready to envelop with tenderness.
Earth: the world’s foundation.
It bound each part of the land together solid, steady, unbreakable. It was often linked to people of firm resolve, reliable souls who stood tall even when everything around them wavered.
Sora thought of his father, Alvaron, as the very personification of that element: strong, protective, immovable when it came to defending his own.
Lightning: the might of storms.
Wildly fickle, it only revealed itself in tempests. Breathtaking to behold, yet dangerous: a single instant could destroy everything. It was associated with unpredictable, intense people whose presence inspired respect… and a certain caution.
Sora pictured a bolt splitting the night sky, followed by thunder’s deep roar—an awe that was as beautiful as it was terrifying.
He turned the page, and the text’s tone shifted. Two elements appeared framed by a fine gilt border with a note warning: “Very rare in manifestation, even within ancient lineages.”
Light: the greatest font of life.
An element tied directly to the divine. According to the book, it was a gift from the goddess Astaria herself, capable of purifying, healing, and driving back forces that threatened the world’s balance. Those who bore it were few, and their abilities were often seen as miracles.
Umbra: the veil of darkness.
Mysterious and sparsely documented. The text admitted its true nature was not fully understood: some saw it as light’s opposite, others as its inevitable complement. The few records spoke of a versatile power able to conceal, distort, and alter though at a cost not yet fully known.
Sora lifted his gaze from the book, his mind alight. All those elements… where did he fit? Which affinity would reveal itself when his moment came?
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and thought, Whatever it is… I’m going to find out.
That line from the introduction kept echoing through his head, like a persistent refrain:
“Magic is the ability to give shape to maná.”
Sora leaned back into the armchair and let the words repeat, each pass carving their meaning a little deeper. Then, almost without thinking, an idea began to take shape.
He slid off the chair and sat on the floor, cross-legged. He rested his hands, open and palms up, on his knees. He closed his eyes and let his breathing slow, deep and steady like he’d once practiced to calm himself in his previous life.
In his mind, he built a clear image: warmth.
First, the heat of a freshly poured cup of tea cupped between his hands. Then the friction of palms rubbed together in midwinter. Gradually, the image shifted no longer everyday warmth, but something more… a small flame hovering lightly above his hands, gentle, alive, yet docile beneath his control.
The more he pictured it, the more real it felt. He wasn’t thinking of a spell, or a magic word… only of giving shape to maná.
Seconds passed, perhaps minutes. Then something changed.
Heat began to gather in his hands. Not the familiar warmth of his own body; something different… more present, more intense, as if an invisible something were answering his will.
His breath hitched in surprise and that was when it happened:
a faint glimmer flickered at the edge of his vision, like an invisible window opening before him.
When he opened his eyes, it was there, floating in front of him:
Skill enhanced: Magical Perception
Level 1 → Level 2
Before he could process it, another notification overlaid itself:
Skill enhanced: Efficient Learning
Level 3 → Level 4
Sora’s heart leapt. It worked!
He hadn’t conjured fire or stirred the air, but something inside him had answered. That heat in his hands, that faint thrum in his chest… it was the confirmation that he was on the right path.
He clenched his fists, unable to hold back a grin.
If I can feel it… then I can shape it. And if I can shape it… I can use magic.
For the first time since he’d started reading that book, he wasn’t just learning, he was taking his first steps toward using magic.
Still riding the quiet joy of the moment, with the echo of the Soul Panel’s notifications fresh in his mind, Sora heard a gentle tapping at the study door. Before he could respond, Aeris peeked in, one hand resting on the frame.
Her eyes, well-practiced at reading Sora’s silent moods, immediately caught the spark of excitement in his expression. For a child his age, that look was unusually intense, stirring in her a strange blend of tenderness and concern.
“Did you find anything interesting in those books, Sora?” she asked softly, a note of caution beneath her warmth.
He looked up and answered without hesitation, smile nearly breaking loose.
“Exactly what I was looking for.”
Aeris watched him for a few seconds longer, as if trying to gauge just how deep that excitement ran. If it were any other child, she thought, it would be a passing curiosity… but with Sora, it’s never just that. When something caught his interest, he never left it halfway.
Shaking the thought off with a small, gentle gesture, she changed the subject.
“You’ll want to come down to the parlor, Sora… Nanami’s here.”
The words lit a spark in his eyes. It had been days since he’d seen her, and the thought of spending time together wiped away everything else. He stood at once, closed the books with care, and followed Aeris to the door.
They went down the stairs together, Sora’s footsteps quick and light with anticipation. At the foyer, Aeris veered off toward the kitchen to take care of her chores, while he turned toward the parlor.
There, the light pouring in through the windows bathed the room in a warm glow, and Sora spotted Nanami’s familiar figure, waiting with that smile of hers that always managed to brighten his day.
When Nanami saw Sora step into the parlor, her face lit up with that uniquely gentle warmth. Her eyes narrowed into a wide, sincere smile and, in a bright tone, she greeted him as if weeks had gone by since they last met.
“Sora!” she called, taking a couple of quick steps toward him.
Her energy was so contagious that Sora couldn’t help returning the greeting with an equally big smile. The joy of seeing her again felt so natural that the words slipped out before he could filter them.
“Hey, so you didn’t come by the last few days, Nanami?”
She didn’t lose that cheerful look, though her tone softened as she answered:
“It’s because I was helping my parents get things ready for the Harvest festival. Mom’s going to look after one of the merchants’ stalls and wanted me to help decorate it.”
Sora nodded in understanding. It didn’t surprise him; after all, Liora, Nanami’s mother, worked as an apothecary in town, yet she was always extra active during festivals. He’d heard she was among the first to offer help, whether that meant preparing remedies, decorations, or even acting as a go-between for merchants and villagers.
He’d never had the chance to see her in action, but hearing Nanami now, he could picture her bustling about with the same lively enthusiasm her daughter had in her veins.
With that signature spark, Nanami began painting the scene in words: garlands strung between houses, the scents of spices and sweets drifting through the air, merchants showing off bolts of vivid cloth and glittering trinkets, children dashing between stalls in peals of laughter, and the yearly games that drew the whole village into a merry buzz.
While she spoke, Sora listened in silence, but inside, a small pang of longing grew. He could imagine all of it… and at the same time, it hurt not to see it with his own eyes. Without realizing it, his expression shifted, a faint shadow of anguish crossing his face.
Always quick to sense his moods, Nanami stopped mid-story. Her gaze softened. She knew Sora couldn’t leave the house yet, but with the innocent resolve that was so very her, she said, firmly:
“Sora, I know you can’t go this year… but I’m sure you’ll be able to next year. We just have to find a way for you to get out. If we think it through together, we’ll figure it out. It’s not fair that you can’t enjoy it!”
Though simple, her words lit something inside Sora. He knew it would be a hard road… but not an impossible one. Buoyed by her confidence, he answered with a determined smile:
“Yeah! I promise I’ll go with you to the next festival.”
At that, Nanami’s face shone as if she’d just heard the best news in the world. Without thinking, she repeated that gesture that was so very her—the same one they’d shared the first time they were under the Whitecrest tree. She held out her pinky toward Sora.
“It’s a promise!”
Caught up in her enthusiasm, Sora hooked his pinky with hers and echoed:
“It’s a promise!”
That gesture, so simple yet so special, had become their way of sealing their most important agreements.
But as soon as he let go, something rang in his mind like a warning bell:
Oh no… I think I just made a serious promise without thinking it through. Now I’ve got extra pressure to work hard so I can go to the festival next year!
Outwardly he was smiling… but inside, he could already feel the weight of that commitment carving itself into his heart.
After sealing their promise with a pinky, Sora, wanting to ease the seriousness of the moment, grinned and suggested:
“Wanna play like usual?”
Nanami nodded at once, that conspiratorial sparkle in her eyes. The two of them headed upstairs to Sora’s room, where they quickly spread out papers, charcoal sticks, and colored pencils across the floor. As they’d done so many times before, they flopped onto their stomachs on the rug, trading ideas and laughing as their drawings took shape.
Time slipped away between lines and teasing comments until a familiar voice cut into their world of doodles:
“Kids, lunch is ready,” Aeris announced from the doorway.
But she hadn’t come in right away. For a few moments she’d leaned against the doorframe, quietly watching the scene she’d seen so many times before: Sora and Nanami laughing together, completely absorbed in their little universe of paper and color. No matter how often she saw it, it stirred the same tenderness in her every time.
As soon as the words reached their ears, the two kids looked at each other and, without a word, sprang to their feet. In an instant they were racing down the stairs, practically competing to see who could reach the dining room first.
At noon it was just the three of them: Aeris, Sora, and Nanami. Tsukari and Alvaron still hadn’t returned, likely tied up with all the duties and preparations the festival demanded.
Lunch began as usual, but Sora noticed something different the moment Aeris set the plates on the table. These were dishes he’d never tasted… at least, not at home. Sweet and spiced aromas mingled with the freshness of herbs, and the vibrant colors on the plates brought to mind Nanami’s descriptions of the festival.
“Today I brought a little piece of the festival here for you,” Aeris explained with a gentle smile, knowing Sora wouldn’t be able to go out and try them.
Sora’s eyes lit up at the first bite, and Nanami quickly matched his expression of approval. Between laughter and quick comments, they shared the meal as if they were truly seated in the middle of a bustling street stall.
After lunch, Nanami lingered a while longer, chatting and finishing a few drawings they’d left half-done, until the sound of footsteps outside announced the arrival of Liora, her mother. She’d come earlier than usual, no doubt because of the festival rush. With a smile and a cordial greeting, she thanked Aeris and took her daughter along, while Sora waved from the doorway.
Before leaving, Nanami turned back to him with that ever-present spark of enthusiasm.
“I’ll bring you a souvenir from the festival, Sora! See you tomorrow!”
Caught up in her energy, Sora answered with the same bright note in his voice:
“Thanks, Nanami! I’ll be looking forward to it!”
She gave him one last warm smile, one of those that seemed to brighten everything around her and headed off with her mother. Sora watched until her figure disappeared down the path, standing there a moment longer as if savoring the lingering echo of their promise.
Left on his own, he found himself wondering what to do. Aeris was especially busy today, and he didn’t want to interrupt her with his whims. Even so, an idea began to take shape in his mind…
He slipped out the back door into the patio, letting the cool air at the tail end of Umbrana brush against his skin. He looked around, no sign of Aeris. This is my chance.
On quiet feet he headed for a corner of the backyard, the same one he’d visited countless times with Nanami. There, against the wall, waited their improvised portal to a secret place: the whitecrest tree. The hole was hidden by a couple of boards he’d learned to lift and set back with the deftness born of months of carefully planned escapades.
He crouched, slid his fingers along the edges, and with a smooth motion eased the boards aside without a sound. He slipped through, straightened up, and felt that familiar tingle that always came with crossing that boundary.
He started up the path toward the hill. Today, however, something was different, he’d never come here alone before. Maybe because of the promise I just made to Nanami… or because from up there I can glimpse the town and, if I’m lucky, catch a hint of the festival’s bustle.
But there was another reason urging him on: he wanted to practice what he’d learned that very morning after reading about magic. And there was no better place to focus than beneath the whitecrest tree, with its calm, its soft breeze, and the whisper of white-pink leaves drifting down like silent snow.
As he walked, Sora’s heart beat with a mix of expectation and resolve. I won’t be going to the festival today… but from that special place, maybe I can take one more step toward the day I do.
When he reached the whitecrest tree, Sora paused to take it in. Months ago its branches had been laden with white-rosy blossoms like a living cloud; now gaps showed through the foliage. A few blossoms clung on as if unwilling to say goodbye, but most had fallen, and the leaves were beginning to pale, readying themselves for the rest Glacien would bring.
Even so, the tree still carried that special aura that made it unique. No matter the season, the whitecrest always felt a little bit magical.
Sora stepped closer and laid his hand against the trunk, feeling its rough, steady texture. In a low voice, as if sharing a secret, he murmured:
“Starting to feel the chill already, huh, friend?”
The cool air tousled his hair, as if the tree were answering with a silent sigh. Sora smiled, letting himself drift through the memories of all the times he’d been here with Nanami.
He sat in his usual spot, the one where he could see the town unfurling far below. Today the streets were livelier than ever: even at this distance he could catch flashes of colorful fabrics and garlands strung between houses, swaying in the breeze. The distant murmur of the bustle reached him as a muffled echo, barely audible.
Since when do festivals get me excited? he thought, propping his chin in one hand. In my previous life I never paid them any mind… but this time… this time I want to see one up close. It’s a festival in a completely different world, after all.
He shook his head and gave his cheeks a couple of light pats.
“I came here to practice what I learned… I can’t get distracted!” he whispered to himself, as if he needed to lay down the law.
With that, he settled into the same posture he’d used that morning in the study: legs crossed, hands resting palms-up on his lap, breathing slow and deep.
But this time, something felt different. The whitecrest tree wrapped him in a deep calm, as if the place itself wanted to help him focus. The wind’s whisper through the branches, the faint scent of the last blossoms, and the golden late-afternoon light filtering through the leaves created the perfect setting for what he was about to attempt.
Once his posture was set, breath deep, body completely relaxed, Sora closed his eyes and let his mind sink into silence. He recalled the sensation he’d experienced that morning… yet he didn’t want to do exactly the same thing.
Instead of focusing directly on heat, he chose to imagine magical energy entering his body. He visualized mana flowing from the surroundings into him like an invisible river. He felt it pass through his skin, run down his arms, cross his chest, and slowly sink toward his hands.
He held to that visualization for a long while, until the sensation stopped being vague and began to sharpen, as if he were finally managing to feel that current beyond imagination.
Once the path of the energy was clear, he shifted his focus: in the center of his palms, he pictured a gentle warmth beginning to gather, just like in the morning, like holding a tiny flame suspended in the air.
He didn’t rush it. He held the sensation steady, careful not to break it, until mind and body seemed to adapt. Little by little, he no longer had to strain to keep the image alive, and the warmth in his hands stayed stable on its own.
But Sora didn’t stop there. On the contrary, he wanted to prolong it, reinforce that connection until it felt as natural as moving a finger. His breathing matched each wave of heat, and the murmur of the whitecrest tree around him seemed to shield him from the outside world, sealing him in a perfect bubble for training.
He kept at it, letting the warmth settle in his hands like a familiar presence. This time, he wouldn’t be satisfied with maintaining it; he wanted to shape it. He knew it was ambitious to try producing a flame on his first day, but the clarity of the sensation pushed him to try.
In his mind, he began gathering that heat to a single point, the exact center of the space between his hands. He saw it, first in his imagination, change, vibrate, and slowly turn into a faint flame. Not a fierce blaze, but something small and delicate, no bigger than a candle’s wicklight.
The heat intensified, more pronounced than before, yet never burning. With each breath, he felt it feeding that tiny burning core. Then he took the risk: he would open his eyes and see it clearly.
He did so slowly, afraid of breaking the fragile balance. And there it was.
Suspended in the air between his hands, a tiny flame swayed softly, as if floating on an invisible thread. Its light was warm, and the faint flicker lit his fingers.
Sora held his breath. He knew that if he got too excited, his concentration would snap. Even so, the sheer sight of it filled him with such pure wonder that, inevitably, the flame began to fade, little by little. He didn’t cling to it; he simply let it go, as if respecting that the moment had to end.
He exhaled and the emotion hit him all at once. That was real magic! he cheered inwardly, pumping a fist toward the sky in a silent victory pose.
He popped open the Soul Panel. Waiting for him there, like a tangible reward, was a small red dot next to his skills:
- Magic Perception: Level 2 → Level 3
- New Skill acquired: Mana Channeling (Level 1)
Sora grinned from ear to ear. What he’d done hadn’t just worked… it had marked a before and after.
Sora lingered a little longer at the whitecrest tree, repeating the exercise he’d just managed again and again. He didn’t want the thrill of the moment to fade without making the most of it, but he knew he couldn’t stay too long. The sun was already dipping, and if he took any more time, it would raise suspicions.
He stood, gave the tree one last look as if thanking it for the company and started back. Reaching the house, he crouched to set the planks back in place, fitting them with the same precision he’d used to remove them. Once the passage was sealed, he drew a deep breath, ready to slip in without drawing attention.
His plan crumbled in an instant.
There, in the backyard, sitting in the chair they usually used for reading lessons, was Aeris. She wasn’t distracted or doing anything else; she was simply watching him, as if she’d been waiting a while.
Aeris’s expression wasn’t harsh… but it was suspicious. Her eyes drifted, almost imperceptibly toward the corner where Sora and Nanami usually slipped out.
I’m doomed… this is a tragedy… she caught me!
“Where were you, Sora?” Aeris asked in a calm voice, the kind of patience she used when she knew more than she said. “I couldn’t find you anywhere in the house.”
Sora lowered his gaze, searching for words that might save him, but there was no believable excuse. He went with the simplest thing.
“I’m sorry, big sis Aeris… please don’t tell anyone.”
To his surprise, Aeris didn’t look angry. In truth, she already knew he and Nanami slipped out there now and then. She’d never said anything because she didn’t want to shatter their little illusion.
“You need to be more careful,” she said, without raising her voice. “It’s not like there are dangerous monsters right here… but someone could see you.”
“I know…” Sora answered, trying to be sincere. “But we never go too far. We just make a quick loop and come back. No one’s ever seen us, Aeris.”
She studied him for a moment longer and, instead of pressing the point, changed the subject with a faint smile.
“And then… what did you discover from your reading this morning?”
At that question, Sora’s spirits lit up at once. His eyes gleamed as he said:
“I have to show you something, Aeris.”
Her curiosity stirred at once. Not quite sure what he meant, she straightened in her seat. Sora settled in front of her, crossed his legs, and took the same posture he’d used during his earlier exercises. Aeris chose not to interrupt, she simply watched, expectant, intrigued by whatever she was about to witness.
Even with her as an audience, Sora focused with surprising ease. He closed his eyes and summoned back that warmth he’d felt before. Whether it was familiarity or his skills advancing, the connection came almost instantly.
The air around him seemed to tighten and then it happened: a tiny flame, no larger than a candle’s, bloomed into being between his hands.
Aeris jolted upright, breath catching for a heartbeat. Did he really pull that off… and that fast?
The little flame danced for a few seconds, as if floating on an invisible thread, then slowly thinned away into the air. Sora opened his eyes, met Aeris’s astonished expression, and asked with a proud smile:
“What do you think, big sis Aeris?”
It took her a moment to react. She had never seen a child his age manage even the most basic magic… much less without uttering a single word.
When she found her voice, she said, “It’s… amazing, Sora. But… you learned that just from reading that book this morning?”
Sora nodded, proud as if it were the most natural thing in the world. That impressed her even more.
“You should practice it more,” Aeris said seriously. “And… I think we should tell your parents.”
Sora shook his head gently, still smiling. “I’d love to tell them, but… I want to practice a bit more first. I want it to come out easier and faster before I show them.”
She didn’t scold him. When Sora stood, Aeris reached out and ruffled his hair, a tender, absent gesture. Without meaning to, she murmured under her breath:
“But… what are you, Sora?”
He barely caught those words and wasn’t sure he truly wanted to know the answer.
The rest of the afternoon passed without incident. Alvaron and Tsukari returned just before dusk, and dinner was served with the same easy, familiar warmth as always. Between light chatter and the soft crackle of the candles, the house filled with that homely atmosphere that soothed Sora’s heart.
Later that night, in his room, Sora lay under the blankets while Tsukari, as usual, sat at his side to tell him a bedtime story. Before she began, she stroked his hair, a faint, wistful smile touching her lips.
“I’m sorry, dear, that we can’t let you go outside… but when you’re older, you’ll be able to, without a doubt.”
Sora looked at her in silence. He had nothing to reproach her for; he understood perfectly well why they’d decided that. His body might be that of a five-year-old, but inside he was far from behaving like one. There was no room for tantrums or childish fits.
Even so, the day’s emotions betrayed him.
“Mother, you know, today I learned to…” He stopped himself short, biting his tongue. “I can’t tell you yet.”
The words slipped out before he could help it, pushed by the excitement he carried inside, and he had to rein himself in. Intrigued by his pause, Tsukari gave him a curious look… but didn’t press. She knew that when the time came, her son would tell her.
Instead, she offered him a calm smile and began one of those stories Sora loved so much, tales full of distant worlds, heroes, and adventures.
When the story ended, she kissed his forehead and whispered goodnight before leaving the room.
Sora was left alone in the dimness, listening to the distant murmur of a house falling asleep. He closed his eyes and, just before surrendering to slumber, murmured to himself:
“That was one more step forward… goddess Astaria.”
With a small smile on his face, he let himself drift into the realm of dreams.