After dropping the woman off and returning her shopping, we headed home. By the time we got to the house Elian seemed back to his usual self, eager to help Freya with the chores. Much to his and Ronan’s dismay, Freya had already finished cleaning. She’d also refilled our water supply using magic—a scene I’d witnessed many times already. Her water magic meant we never had to make the trip to the well.

After lunch, everyone dispersed to their usual tasks, leaving me free to slip away to my room for some much-needed time alone. Under my mattress, I found the small book on mana basics I’d stolen from the local library. Climbing onto my bed, I stretched out my stubby legs, desperately trying—and failing—to reach the floor. Muttering curses at my small body, I clambered down and settled cross-legged on the floor instead. Though I’d already read it, I flipped through the book again, reviewing the key points.

Certain creatures were born with a mana core; a magical organ that could absorb, process and manipulate mana. Accompanying the mana core were meridians; channels within the body by which mana was distributed. A person with a mana core was called a mage, whereas an animal with a mana core was called a monster.

There were two ways to use mana; internally to enhance the body, called enforcement, or externally as an element, called spellcasting. Every mage awakens with the ability to control one or more elements which they’d inherited from their parents.

Using mana externally was standard practice—unlike in my former life, where I’d been the only one capable of controlling ether outside the body. A divine feat. 

At least I was, until I got murdered.

Shivering, I recalled my death and the dark magic that tore through the castle, burying me alive. Ether manifested itself as an ethereal, golden light, but that magic had been entirely black. 

Maybe it wasn’t ether, I thought. But even after thinking it over I couldn’t come to a conclusion, so I shook off the thought and continued reading.

Mages were born with a dormant, seemingly frozen mana core. Over time, the atmospheric mana that permeated their body would accumulate around the solar plexus and energise their core. Once enough mana accumulated and their core was energised enough, they would awaken and their core would begin circulating mana throughout their body.

Mages awakened between the ages of eight and fifteen years old, with earlier awakenings often indicating a stronger connection to mana. There was no known way to accelerate the awakening of a mage’s core.

While there were anatomical differences between mages and regular people—such as the presence of a mana core—they were all internal. People would predominantly use a mana crystal to identify a mage before they awakened, but if they were a high enough level mage they could directly sense the concentration of mana around the solar plexus.

A human’s mana core and meridians were made of a semipermeable membrane that allowed mana to flow in and out. To absorb mana, a human mage would draw the atmospheric mana within their body into the meridians where it would then flow into the core to be processed. When the mana is processed it would either be kept within the core, or be sent back out through the meridians. If sent back out of the core, the mana would either be distributed throughout the body for enforcement or be sent out of the body to cast a spell. However, depending on the species of the mage, the process may slightly differ.

The core itself resembled a sphere that had been stretched in multiple directions and connected to the web of meridians within the solar plexus. If a creature with a mana core died, most of the time their core’s membrane would harden, severing the core’s connection to the meridians and forming a solid, lumpy orb filled with mana. The process was slightly different for many sentient creatures, such as human mages, where during the hardening process the core shatters, releasing its processed mana back into the atmosphere to dissipate, or naturally flowing into the nearest core in the immediate vicinity.

I set the book down beside me, as it had nothing more to offer. Closing my eyes, I steadied my thoughts. Although I couldn’t sense the ambient mana circulating within me, I trusted that it was there. Focusing on my upper abdomen, I pictured the thousands of particles drifting through my body. All at once, I tried to mentally drag them towards my solar plexus.

In my past life, I had done something similar to counter ether overflow—flooding my body with ether before drawing all of it back into my core repeatedly. Now, however, I was working blind.

Time slipped by as I settled into a meditative state, repeatedly envisioning a new flood of miniscule particles filling my body before pulling them towards the center of my body. I envisioned them traveling through vein-like pathways towards the small gathering point below my sternum. My meridians would only truly develop once I awakened my core, but forming the nerve-like network of mental pathways now would make them easier to visualise when the time came. The mana needed for awakening typically accumulated in the solar plexus over several years, but I was trying to streamline and hasten the process.

I couldn’t say how long I’d been meditating when a knock at the door broke my concentration. My eyes snapped open. Quickly shoving the book back under my mattress, I opened the door to find Elian standing there.

“I need to ask you something. Can I come in?” 

Stepping aside, I motioned for him to enter. We sat on the bed, my short legs dangling off the edge.

“At the market—why didn’t you help? You just walked away.”

I held back a scathing retort, the irritation from being interrupted still bubbling within me. 

Does he really expect a three-year-old to step in and help in that kind of situation? No, of course not. This is just his attempt to play the virtuous older brother, trying to instil his morals in me at an early age.

“If you want someone to blame, go to Chione. It was her fault,” I retorted.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “It was my fault. But that doesn’t mean you and Chione shouldn’t have helped.” He was always oscillating between naive optimism and a mature sense of responsibility.

I was about to respond when he pressed on, “I just want you to get along with everyone. Could you at least try to help others, even if it’s not technically your fault?”

“No. You can’t force me to do things just because you think it’s right,” I shot back, hoping to end the conversation there.

Elian fell silent, his expression turning thoughtful, then looked at me with a strange look on his face, maybe hope or determination, I couldn’t tell. “How about just one person? You hurt someone, so make it right by helping someone else. Can you promise that? Just one person?” He held out his pinkie finger to me.

What kind of logic is that?

I considered pointing out that I was technically a toddler and completely blameless for what happened at the market—but decided against it. My family had increasingly strange expectations of me despite my physical age, and they only seemed to be growing. I couldn’t tell whether they genuinely believed a child my age was capable of such maturity, or if something I’d done had made them see me as an exception. There was no way to be sure. Maybe it was the way I spoke—or the absence of the tantrums they expected.

Scenarios flashed through my mind as I tried to figure out where I’d slipped up. I had been guessing at what I thought constituted normal behaviour and normal development this entire time, acting on instinct, and clearly my guesses had missed the mark. Now, people were treating me differently as a result of my abnormality, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d specifically messed up.

I have to be more careful in the future.

“Okay. It’s a promise,” I lied, linking my pinkie with his and attempting an innocent smile.

Elian grinned, satisfied, and ruffled my hair with his other hand. I smacked it away, but he just laughed. After a moment, I found myself laughing too. I didn’t know why—his laugh was infectious. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed, but it felt strange. Almost nice.

“We’ve got a little time before Grandma and Grandpa get here, so I’m going to train with Dad,” Elian said, jumping up and heading for the door. “You want to come watch?”

To his obvious delight, I agreed and followed him to the door. I cast a quick glance at the bed where I’d hidden the book, then stepped out, closing the door behind me. Getting stronger could wait.