It was a pleasant day; the sky was blue, and the sun's exuberant rays shone on the verdant plains. Its grass blades were swaying to the wind's lyrical whistling, pushing yellow dandelions to the side to make room for a pair of short legs.

"Be careful, Kyro!"
A soft voice cried out.

The boy ignored the voice, fully immersed in the beauty of nature. He grinned happily, his rose-colored cheeks bursting.

"What a bundle of joy." The voice sighed. 

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Dawn broke. And the resonant cluck of a rooster served as my alarm. Groaning, I hopped over the edge of my bed and landed on the ground before stretching my body till I heard multiple satisfying snaps. I let out a yawn before making my way to the living room, spotting my grandfather still lying on his hammock. 

"Hey, Gramps, it's time to wake up."

He mumbled in irritation.

Can't be bothered to wake him. I reasoned, dragging my feet while wiping my eyes to prepare breakfast.

I whip out my trusty kitchen knife, cutting up and portioning various vegetables like carrots, onions, and Daydream turnips. He must have woken up to the sizzling of eggs and the bubbling of porridge since I heard shuffling, and sure enough, he was up and on his way to the toilet.

"Hey," I reached out, "you can use my room, you know? I don't mind the hammock." I continue, sprinkling hefty amounts of salt on the eggs before uncovering the pot of porridge, the inviting smell striking my nose. "You're getting old, and the mattress I'm using will be good for your back."

"Oh please," he snarked. "I'm not old at all! How am I still able to charm ladies if I was old, eh?"

I mean, he wasn't wrong. People have misinterpreted him as my dad, despite the fact that he's virtually knocking on heaven's door.

"Yeah, sure," I snorted. "Just make sure to flush the toilet this time."

Breakfast was good--obviously. The well-farmed ingredients also played a role, but it was mostly me. Gramps devoured his plate like a gust of Gale sharks, and bits of egg and porridge tainted his silver beard.

"When are you going to cut that Glimmerbeak nest off?" I sneered.

"Oh please," he groused, scuffling it to remove the segments of food that, at this point, had almost been ingrained into his hair roots like buried treasure.

"This beauty is my pride and joy!"

'This beauty'? That thing's an amalgamation of horror and repulse! Even a Phoenix's flames are more lenient to the eyes!

Shifting the topic, I ask him about Flux. Flux was a painfully confusing topic; whenever Gramps would talk about it, I could feel my blood getting pumped into a place that wasn't my brain.

"When are you going to teach me about Flux and such?" I inquired.

"In a year, Ky, you're still a little young."

"But I want to get a head start when I enroll in Cubicle; I want to be a Warlock." I frowned, stirring my spoon in the nigh-empty bowl.

"Cubicle, eh? For all I care, that damned firm can rot in a magma chamber! I can teach you more than those lazy, greedy rascals."

I tilt my head.

"Why are you so against Cubicle?"

"You brat, I know what you're trying to do," he retorts.

I laugh it off and finish my food, before getting up and collecting our plates to wash it in the basin.

"Say, Ky,"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go to the field, I'll teach ya a thing or two."

"Huh?"

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Once I had cleaned up, we headed to the field, greeting the other villagers along the way. One particular villager, though, approached us. His name was Jerald and asked where we were going.

"Hey, Jerald! Gramps is goin' to teach me some stuff about Flux." I replied.

"Oo, Flux eh? Ye plannin' to go to Cubicle? I heard they the leading institution for allat stuff."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm gonna be a Warlock!"

Ky gleamed as he said those words. I can't help but be conflicted, with feelings of pride and joy against worry and rumination. My heart was supportive, but my brain was not. Conscience said yes, but logic said no. Under all those tumultuous emotions, I sighed and smiled. I ought to support him, no matter the path he chooses. I just hope he doesn't become a professor though

Our shoes shifted against basalt and granite, each footfall inching us closer to the field. I told him I'd teach him a thing or two, but I'm really just curious about his Flux; you can't blame a grandpa for being curious about his own grandson, right? I look at Ky, his charcoal hair tousled in the wind, revealing a semi-pointed ear.
They truly are the same.

Upon reaching the field, a huge wave of nostalgia engulfed me, throwing me back to when I was his age, admiring the solemnity of nature, inhaling the fresh smell of flowers, and relaxing with the cool breeze. Those were the simple days. I thought, reminiscing back to the simpler times before I slap both my cheeks simultaneously. Indulging in self-pity is cringeworthy!

"Sit and straighten your back, Ky," I instructed. "Close your eyes and emanate with your being."

"Huh? empanadas?"

I sighed.

"If you're skilled enough, you'll know what I mean."

After letting out a confused groan, he sat down, closed his eyes, calibrated his breathing, and began to perform a sequence of actions that I can only assume was his interpretation of emanating. Ignoring his antics, I placed my palms on his back and began attempting to enable his Flux, silencing the wind and turning the field ghost-quiet.

Ky's heartbeat suddenly soared, and he broke out in a heavy sweat. His breathing labored, and his forearms began to reveal a line tracing to his hand. It bore a circle big enough that its circumference grazed his knuckles.

I chuckled.

I don't know if it was out of surprise, enjoyment, or pride, but those markings were definitive of one fact.

"You're going to be a Warlock alright, a splendid one at that," I muttered.

However, my joyful celebration didn't last long.

"Gramps... I feel like I'm about to explode..."

Shit! I thought, pulling my hand back.

It didn't budge.

In a frenzy, I desperately tried tugging my hand back, but for some odd reason, Ky's back menacingly gripped my palm, denying any movement or retaliation. He groaned out in pain.

"Whatever you're doing, Gramps, is killing me!"

I was paralysed in fear, continuously attempting to remove my hands from my grandson, but they wouldn't budge; they were frozen in place as though a spell from Medusa had been inflicted upon them. As Ky's groans developed into screams, he started to move erratically, my hands glue-stuck on his back.

"Ky! Calm down!" I begged, closing my eyes and focusing to negate my actions.

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I didn't know what Gramps was doing, but it was excruciatingly painful. I felt my heart arresting and my gullet closing in. A second later, I could feel my mouth fill up with blood, I spat it out instinctively. I felt Gramps' callused palms release from my back; his breathing turned heavy as he let out a sigh of relief.

I looked back at him to see him laughing hysterically.

"Oh boy, Ky," he groaned. "How glad am I to be your grandpa."

"Um, I don't know, very glad?"

He looked at me with a contemptuous expression, which broke down into another fit of hysterical laughter.

"Oh, oh heavens!" He remarked in between sharp breaths, subsequently lifting himself off the ground and extending his arm.

"Thanks." I reach out, balancing myself.

A chill went down my spine. The cold wind scored my skin as I instinctively stretch out to touch my back-- my fingertips confused at the touch of my own skin. Flailing my arms around, Gramps interrupted and thwacked my head.

"I taught you so much stuff that it tore a part of your shirt off."

"Huh? But how is it possible that my shirt got torn?"

"You know what they say, knowledge is power." he chortled.

That had only made my already confused brain perplexed. So, I left it at that, telling Gramps it was time to head back.