"Orion, come down!" Uncle Darius’s voice slices through the quiet of the house, firm and commanding.

I sigh, pressing my palm against the rough wooden cover of the book in front of me. The pages feel warm under my fingertips, still holding onto the sunlight streaming through the window.

 I don’t want to go. I know exactly what’s waiting for me outside. I glance down at the ancient text, my mind still lingering on the concept of Mana Circles. The diagrams seem to pulse in the dim light of my room, as if urging me to keep reading.

"Coming, Uncle Darius!" I call back, though my voice carries none of his enthusiasm.

Reluctantly, I rise from my seat, stretching slightly before trudging toward the door. The wooden floor creaks beneath my feet, an old, familiar sound in this house.

 Dust motes dance lazily in the golden afternoon light filtering through the hallway windows. I move slower than necessary, dragging my feet down the stairs in a half-hearted attempt to delay what I know is coming.

The living room is empty, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The curtains flutter slightly from the breeze seeping through the open window, carrying with it the scent of grass and something faintly sweet—maybe the remnants of Mom’s afternoon tea.

Beyond the open doorway leading to the backyard, I can hear them. Laughter, excited chatter, the unmistakable energy of children eager to play.

I already know what awaits me. Playtime. My least favorite kind of time.

As I shuffle through the hallway, I catch sight of Mom—Anara—standing near the doorway, folding linens.

 She moves with an effortless grace, the fabric slipping between her fingers as she works. She doesn’t look up immediately, but I know she’s aware of my presence. The moment I let my shoulders sag in exaggerated exhaustion, she lifts her gaze.

Her sharp eyes take me in, reading me like an open book. I let out a small, pitiful sigh, my lips pulling into a practiced frown. Maybe—just maybe—if I look miserable enough, she’ll take pity on me and let me stay inside.

But she’s ready for it.

With a knowing smile, she raises an eyebrow and flicks her wrist in a gentle shooing motion. Her eyes twinkle with amusement, silently saying, "Nice try, little one, but you’re not getting out of this."

I push forward with my act, because if I don’t try, I’ll never know. "Mom, I’m really tired..." I mumble, dragging my voice low, adding just the right amount of exhaustion to make it convincing.

 For good measure, I throw in a small pout, letting my arms hang limply at my sides.

She doesn’t waver. Instead, she steps closer, bending down until we’re eye to eye. The scent of lavender clings to her, a soothing contrast to my growing despair. Her warm hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing against my skin in that way only mothers do—soft, reassuring, but firm.

“Orion,” she says, voice sweet but carrying that unyielding edge, “you’ve been reading all morning. Go out, run around a bit. It’s good for you.”

I release another sigh, heavier this time. Defeat settles in my chest.

 "Alright..." I grumble, though it’s more for show than actual frustration. It’s the kind of reluctance that comes when you know you’ve lost the battle before it even started.

Mom smiles, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head. Her fingers smooth down my hair, a lingering touch before she pulls away. "Have fun, my little star," she whispers.

That’s it. That’s her way of telling me she understands, but there’s no escaping this.

Resigned, I trudge toward the back door. The voices outside grow clearer with every step. Uncle Darius is talking excitedly, his deep voice carrying over the wind, probably explaining some new game. The scent of fresh earth and sun-warmed grass greets me as I push open the wooden door.

And there they are.

Elara stands in the middle of the yard. Beside her, Aria, her ever-present partner in crime, bounces on her toes, her wild curls framing her face. Their eyes brighten the moment they spot me. Uncle Darius towers over them, his stance relaxed but his grin wide with mischief.

"There you are, Orion!" Uncle Darius’s voice booms across the backyard, his hands clapping together in a sharp, enthusiastic smack that makes me wince. The sheer energy in his tone feels almost painful. The man is far too excited about a simple game.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the soft grass. A warm breeze rustles through the trees that line the backyard, their leaves whispering secrets in the wind. The air smells of earth and the faint lingering scent of Mom’s afternoon tea.

Elara’s sharp eyes meet mine, and the moment she locks on, her lips curl into a smug, playful smirk.

 "You’re slow, Ori!" she teases, sticking her tongue out at me. "We’ve been waiting forever!"

Beside her, Aria crosses her arms, her tiny frame somehow radiating an air of authority.

"Yeah, come on, Orion!" she echoes, hands on her hips, looking as bossy as ever.

" We’re going to play tag, and you can’t be the winner if you don’t hurry up!"

I glance back at the house, half-hoping, half-praying that Mom might appear in the doorway, offering some convenient excuse that will let me stay inside. But the door remains firmly shut. No last-minute rescues. No escape. She’s giving me no way out.

I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the crisp evening air, then let it out in a slow, reluctant sigh.

"Fine, fine, I’m here," I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck before flashing a small, resigned smile. "Let’s get this over with."

Uncle Darius claps his hands together again, louder this time, as if trying to shake the very air.

"Alright, everyone, gather ’round!" His voice carries over the yard, filled with that booming authority only adults seem to have.

I trudge forward, still holding the wooden toy sword he gave me earlier. The handle is smooth against my palm, worn down by repeated use.

Elara and Aria scramble over, their eyes wide with eagerness, bouncing on their feet like they can barely contain their excitement.

Uncle Darius stands tall in the middle of the yard, his stance wide, a grin playing at his lips.

 "Since we’ve got all our players here now," he begins, casting a pointed glance at me with a wink, "I’m going to explain the rules of our game one more time—just so no one can say they ‘didn’t know’ when they lose."

He says this last part while jabbing a teasing finger in my direction. I roll my eyes but can’t stop the small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. Typical.

Darius starts pacing back and forth like a drill sergeant preparing his troops for battle. His boots crunch against the dirt in rhythmic steps.

 "Here’s how it works," he says, his deep voice commanding our attention.

"One of you is going to be ‘It’—that’s the chaser. The rest of you need to run, dodge, and hide to avoid getting tagged. If the person who’s ‘It’ catches you, they have to shout ‘Tag!’ and touch you. And then—tag, you’re it!"

He claps his hands again, the sharp sound cutting through the air like a starting bell. "You become the new chaser."

Elara’s eyes gleam with determination. She starts bouncing on the balls of her feet, her energy practically crackling in the air. "Sounds easy!" she chirps, her voice brimming with confidence. "I bet I won’t get caught."

Aria giggles and elbows her lightly. "That’s what you said last time, and you still got tagged by me," she teases, grinning wide.

Elara whips her head toward her, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah, but I was ‘It’ last time when the time ran out, so I actually won! You’ll see, I’ll win again."

I watch them bicker, shaking my head slightly. The fire in their eyes, the way they lean into the competition, the sheer excitement vibrating off them—it’s infectious.

I’m not as competitive as they are, but something about their energy makes me want to try harder, too.

Uncle Darius clears his throat, his deep voice cutting through the excited chatter. “Now, now, save the trash talk for the game.” His gaze sweeps over us, sharp yet amused.

 “Remember, the backyard is our game zone. No running inside the house, no climbing up trees, and no squeezing under the fence, Elara.”

His eyes land directly on my sister, who instantly freezes, her mischievous grin faltering just for a second.

We all remember the last time she pulled that stunt—wedging herself behind a flowerpot near the fence and getting stuck until Mom had to pull her out.

Elara grins sheepishly, kicking at the grass. “Okay, okay. No fence-squeezing. Got it.”

Uncle Darius nods, satisfied. Then, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if revealing some grand secret. “And here’s the kicker.” His tone takes on a conspiratorial edge.

“The person who’s ‘It’ when the timer runs out? They’re the loser. Everyone else? You’re the winners, and you get bragging rights for the rest of the day.”

“Ooooh.” Aria’s eyes widen with exaggerated drama. “I’m definitely not going to be ‘It’ when the timer runs out.”

Elara crosses her arms, tilting her head in challenge. “We’ll see about that!” Her whole posture shifts, like she’s already running through strategies in her head, mapping out escape routes across the yard.

Uncle Darius reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wooden hourglass. The smooth, polished surface catches the light, and as he flips it over, the sand inside begins to trickle down in a steady, mesmerizing flow. The countdown has begun.

“Alright, we need to pick who’s ‘It’ first.” He rocks back on his heels, glancing between us with a knowing smirk. “Any volunteers?”

Before I can react, Elara’s finger jabs toward me, her grin stretching wide. “I think Orion should be ‘It’ first.”