Aunt Liora’s gaze drifted through the room, as if confirming what she already knew. Whatever conclusion she reached, she kept it to herself.

“Well,” she said slightly, clapping her hands once, “I see the house is as lively as ever.” 

Dad stepped aside. “Come sit. You must be tired.” 

“Always,” she replied cheerfully, slipping out of her cloak. Mom took it without comment, hanging it by the door with the ease of long habit. Aunt Liora adjusted the strap of her satchel, papers rustling softly inside. 

Her attention shifted naturally as she spoke, never settling for long. “I passed three wagons arguing over right of way, a merchant was convinced his donkey underwood him, and—OH!” Her eyes landed on Valmira. She paused, smile sharpening just a little. “You’ve added another guest.”  She giggled. 

Valmira straightened. 

Aunt Liora approached her and leaned down to her level. “Hello, Princess Valmira Daevery.” She smiled and patted her head. “You’re so cute!” Aunt Liora and Valmira both giggled. 

The only thing I hear when Aunt Liora is here is giggles and non-stop yapping. I sigh, though, I wasn’t annoyed…I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it.

I watched as she moved further inside, setting her satchel down near the table before glancing around again, satisfied. “This family sure has a way of attracting complications.”

Dad snorted. “We call that ‘life,’” He replied, crossing his arms.

Aunt Liora smiled at that. “Fair enough.”

She slumped in the chair, exhaling a long sigh. She reached into her satchel, rifling through the papers as she spoke. “I wasn’t planning to stay long,” she said. “The academy has been relentless lately. Evaluations. Revisions, complaints. Apparently, the curriculum is too demanding now.” 

Dad raised an eyebrow. “That place never changes.” 

“Oh, it changes,” Aunty replied dryly. “Just never in the ways that help.”

The Academy, huh? I leaned against the wall. What was it named again…? I know I read about it. 

My eyes darted to Valmira. She hesitated, then spoke. “The academy?” Her voice was careful, but her interest was obvious. “You mean Erasden Imperial Academy?” I could see the curiosity in her eyes. 

Aunt Liora looked up. “Mm?” Then she brightened. “Ah. Yes. Erasden Imperial Academy.” She gave a small, dramatic sigh. “The pride of two races and the bane of my sleep.”

“You teach there?” Valmira asked, curiosity and awe laced in her voice.

“Yep!” Aunt Liora grinned. “I teach Alchemy…and patience. Students have none of it.” She leaned back slightly, eyeing Valmira with interest now. “You don’t like the reckless type, though.” 

Valmira beamed, earning a giggle from Aunt Liora. She pinched Valmira’s cheek. “And super cute! You’ll break hearts once you grow up!” 

Valmira blinked. “Is…there a spell to break hearts?” 

“Pfft—” I put a hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh. 

Aunt Liora laughed. Dad snickered, and Mom just smirked in amusement. 

Valmira looked around in confusion. She looked panicked for a moment, then let out a huff. “How is the academy? Is it…difficult?” She asked, effortlessly bringing the topic back to the academy. 

Aunt Liora tilted her head, thinking. “Busy,” she said instead. “Loud. Full of people who think they’re special.” Her gaze softened. “But it’s also where things begin. Where you find out what you’re capable of. And what you’re not.” 

That seemed to satisfy Valmira. She nodded, thoughtful.

I observed silently. I would be attending that academy sometime in the future as well, I think.

Aunt Liora hummed thoughtfully, fingers tapping against the rim of her satchel. “Funny thing about Erasden,” she said. “People think it’s about talent, or heritage. Or who your parents are.”

Mom shot her a look. “Liora.”

“I’m being general,” she replied lightly. “Mostly.” She leaned back in her chair. “In truth, it’s about timing. When you arrive. When something wakes up.”

Dad didn’t interrupt.

“So,” Aunt Liora added, glancing between Mom and Dad, “how old is Kairon now?”

Mom answered evenly. “Four and a half.”

“Hm.” Aunt Liora smiled faintly. “That’s young.”

“That’s too young,” Mom corrected.

“I agree,” Aunt Liora said easily. “Which is why no one official is paying attention.” She 

paused, then added, almost absently, “Yet.”

The room didn’t tense. It stilled.

Valmira shifted beside the table. “Does the Academy ever… notice children?” she asked.

“Not like that,” Aunt Liora replied. “The Academy doesn’t hurry.” Her gaze softened. “It waits.”

Mom folded her arms. “You’re not here for him.”

Aunt Liora raised both hands. “Of course not. If I were, I wouldn’t be sitting at this table.”

Dad exhaled through his nose. “Good.”

Aunt Liora smiled, settling back. “I’m just saying—this house has a habit of being early.” 

I glanced around, and my gaze drifted toward the door. I want to go outside…But I feel like Aunt Liora will say something important. I need to know!  

Aunt Liora leaned forward, resting her elbows against the table as though the matter required no secrecy. “The borders have been unsettled for some time now,” she said calmly. “Not enough to alarm anyone openly, but enough that movement has begun where there used to be none. Goblin territories are shifting, patrol routes are being tested, and old lines—ones that held for generations—are being crossed simply to see who responds.”

Bingo! I didn’t know why, but I felt excited about such news…Am I a psychopath? I shook my head and glanced up. My Dad’s expression hardened. And Mom didn’t move at all.

“The Academy has felt it as well,” Aunt Liora continued. “Not in the way most people imagine. They aren’t gathering more students or accelerating training. They’re preparing the ones who are already there, easing them into responsibilities that weren’t meant to arrive so early, adjusting expectations to match a future no one wants to name yet.” Her gaze turned to Valmira, gentle but unyielding. “Your siblings are already part of that process. They’re old enough to be involved, old enough to be useful, and—unfortunately—old enough to be seen.”

Valmira listened without interrupting, her posture straight, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. As if the news didn’t bother her… well, she’s royalty; responsibility always follows.

“But you,” Aunt Liora said, softening, “are not meant to be part of it yet.”

“That’s why I’m here…” Valmira replied quietly, realizing why she’s actually here.

“Yes,” Aunt Liora agreed. “That’s why you’re here.” She leaned back then, releasing a slow breath. “For now, the kingdoms talk, councils argue, and everyone convinces themselves that nothing urgent is happening. Borders shift just enough to be ignored, and families like this one are asked—politely—to remain still.”

Dad crossed his arms. “We’ve never been good at that.” A small smirk tugged at his lips.

Aunt Liora smiled faintly. “I know. That’s precisely why you were trusted.”

Dad pulled out a chair and sat, the sound of wood against wood grounding the room again. “If that’s all,” he said, “then we’ll do what we’ve always done. Keep the children out of it.”

Aunt Liora’s smile didn’t fade, but something behind it shifted. “That’s the hope,” she said. “Not the plan. Just the hope.”

Mom turned slightly, resting her hand against the table. “And if hope isn’t enough?”

“Then people start arriving earlier than expected,” Aunt Liora replied. “Asking questions they already know the answers to. Measuring things they claim are only ‘routine.’” She reached for her satchel again, fingers brushing its strap. “Erasden has a habit of sending its quietest voices first.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence.

I shifted my weight, uncomfortable without knowing why. The conversation felt like it was circling something just beyond my reach, and that somehow made it worse than if they’d said it plainly. Adults talked like this when they didn’t want children to worry. It never worked.

Aunt Liora noticed the movement and glanced my way, not sharply, not pointedly—just enough to acknowledge my presence. “You’ll hear rumors soon,” she said, tone lightening deliberately. “Village talk. Traders exaggerating. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Dad frowned. “Liora.”

She lifted a hand. “I said rumors. Not warnings.”

That did nothing to help.

Valmira remained quiet beside the table, listening in the way only someone raised among councils could. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady. “If the Academy is preparing,” she said, “does that mean decisions have already been made?”

Aunt Liora considered her carefully. “It means everyone is pretending they haven’t.”

That answer lingered longer than any other

 Aunt Liora was quiet for a moment, her fingers resting on the satchel at her side as if she had forgotten why she’d reached for it in the first place. When she finally spoke again, her tone was mild, almost conversational. “There is one thing I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said. “And before you decide how you feel about it, I’ll say this first. I’m not here because the Academy sent me.”

Dad didn’t reply. Neither did Mom. The room felt smaller all of a sudden, like the walls had edged closer without anyone noticing.

Aunt Liora looked between them, then toward the table, then finally forward again. “How long do you intend to keep it hidden?” she asked. The question hung there, incomplete. Then she finished it. “His core.”

My eyes widened. Mom remained silent out of disbelief. Dad’s head snapped toward Aunt Liora.  

“H-how…do you know that?” Mom asked, breathless. 

Dad clenched his fist. “You shouldn’t know that…”

“I shouldn’t,” she agreed. “But you can’t hide things from me.”

My chest felt tight. I hadn’t moved, but I was suddenly aware of where I was standing, of the space I occupied. Every word felt as if it had been spoken around me rather than to me. My heart hammered against my ribcage. 

Valmira hadn’t said anything yet. She was very still, her posture composed, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was careful, measured. “You mean he already has one.”

Aunt Liora looked at her. “Yes.”

Valmira’s gaze shifted, slow and deliberate, until it reached me. Her brows drew together slightly, not in fear, not in anger, but in something quieter. Surprise gave way to recalculation. Then to something harder to name. “I thought,” she said after a moment, “that I was early.”

“You are,” Aunt Liora replied. “Among those who are known.”

Mom spoke up, voice leveled now. “You still haven’t answered how,” she said. “We were careful.”

“You were,” She confirmed. “But come on, Amilia. Do you think you can hide a core like that from me? The professors? And from those who can see other people’s core level?” 

Mom remained quiet, and Dad just sighed in defeat. “I knew we couldn’t keep this hidden forever.” He mumbled. 

Valmira’s hands clenched at her sides. She loosened them deliberately. When she spoke again, her voice was even. “Does the Academy know?” 

Aunt Liora shook her head. “No. And if it did, instead of me sitting here, it’d be the headmaster.” 

I let out a breath of relief, feeling my heart calm a little. The tension in Mom and Dad’s bodies loosened slightly as well. 

Aunt Liora leaned back, her smirk returning. “Since we’re on the topic,” she glanced at Mom. “Tell me his core level. I can only know that he has a core, not his level.” 

Mom hesitated, then mumbled a reply. “Last layer of the second phase…” Mom, Dad, and I watched her, waiting for her reaction. 

“Oh! Last layer of the second phase…” She paused, thinking it over. After a bit, her eyes widened. “Second phase?!” There it was, the disbelief. 

Valmira’s jaw dropped as well. 

I saw this coming… 

Aunt Liora cleared her throat. “So, uh…almost at the third phase…” She trailed off. “What about elements? Surely he can use only one, two at max, right?” 

Oh, boy. She’s in for a ride. I exhaled a sigh and answered myself. “I…can use all four elements.”

Valmira and Aunt Liora’s eyes went catoonishly wide, jaws slack. Mom let out a breath, and Dad facepalmed. 

Called it.