I'm five. And I have questions.
My world is suddenly full of things I don't understand, and it's driving me insane.
"Mama, why does moonvine only work if you pick it at night?"
"Papa, if the ley lines are strong here, why isn't everyone a mage?"
"Elder Greenleaf, what happens if you cross-breed a sun-petal with a shadow-root? Will it explode?"
"Captain Felric, your counter-stance is open. Why? Is it a feint? Are you baiting a leg-strike?"
Miren calls it my "why phase." Toren calls it "a headache." Kaela just punches my arm and tells me to "stop using big words."
I call it breathing. I can't not see the patterns, the gaps in the logic. Every answer I get just feeds my... my... let's call it my enhanced understanding (I'm trying that one this week). Every scrap of data is a weapon. A tool. Something I'll need.
"Three spoons. Level," I say, tapping the little wooden spoon on the bowl's edge.
I'm in Miren's workshop. It stinks in here, but in a good way. Dried herbs, sharp antiseptic smells, and the faint ozone of magic.
"Perfect. Now slow, Ren. Don't clump it."
I tap the willow bark powder into the moonvine paste. It swirls, turning a deep, rich emerald. It's... beautiful. The way the two energies don't fight, but... merge.
"Mama, if the vine makes you think clear, and the bark stops the hurt... does this potion make the hurt... smarter?"
Miren stops stirring. She just looks at me. "Make the hurt... smarter. What a... Ren, where do you get these things?"
"Just... thinking."
"You think too much," she says, but she's smiling. It's that smile. The one that's proud and terrified all at once. "Yes, in a way. It helps people... understand their pain. Not just feel it."
"So it is smarter."
Before she can answer, the door slams open, making us both jump.
Kaela. Of course.
"Ren! You have to come! Now!"
"Kaela, we're working—" Miren starts.
"It's a gnome, Miren! A real one! And she has machines! And one of them walks!"
That stops me. Magi-tech. I've read about it. The fusion of engineering and magic. I look at Miren, who just sighs and waves a hand.
"Go. Just... don't touch anything that's on fire."
I'm out the door before she finishes.
The gnome is a glorious disaster.
She's set up in the market square, and she's surrounded by... junk. Gears, wires, crystals, tools. And three separate, very small fires. She's barely taller than me, her copper hair is sticking straight up (and slightly singed), and she's yelling at a metal... thing.
The thing is the size of a large dog, all brass and sputtering crystals. It takes a clanking, grinding step. Then another.
"Yes! YES! The locomotion runes are—"
The machine shudders, tilts, and falls over with a CRASH that makes the crowd jump. Steam hisses out of it. A crystal cracks.
"—not working," the gnome finishes, kicking it.
People are laughing. I'm not. I'm... fascinated.
My brain—let's just call it my brain—is already taking it apart. The weight's wrong. It's too top-heavy. The runes are firing, but... not in the right order.
I walk right past the rope barrier.
"Hey! Kid!"
The gnome is muttering, "Stupid, stupid, center of gravity all wrong..."
"It's not just that," I say.
She freezes. She turns, pushing her goggles up. Her eyes are bright, manic green. "What?"
"That front leg. It's... catching." I point. "The big gear. It's slipping. It's throwing off the timing of the rune-step."
She stares at me. Just... blank. "How old are you?"
"Five."
"Five." She blinks. Then she beams. A huge, soot-covered grin. "You're right! You're bloody right! I've been checking the runes, but it's mechanical! You're brilliant!" She shoves a greasy hand at me. "Elira Sparkwhisper. Inventor, genius, and professional mess-maker."
"Ren Amaki."
"Amaki... Toren's kid! The prodigy! The one with the..." She wiggles her fingers by her temple.
"The weird brain," Kaela says, suddenly at my shoulder. "Ren, what are you doing?"
"Helping. This is Elira."
"And she's right!" Elira shouts. "Oh, this is great. Listen, Ren, you get magi-tech?"
"Just books."
"Books! Better than nothing. Help me fix this, and I'll show you how it really works."
For the next hour, I'm... happy. Happier than I've been in a long time. Elira is chaos in humanoid form. Her mind jumps. She starts explaining one thing, gets an idea, runs to another, and sets a fourth thing on fire. But I can follow her. My brain just... keeps up.
She's not just using magic to move metal. She's using magic to power the metal. She's using runes to program it. It's the science I barely remember from my old life, but... better.
"You're a natural," she says, letting me solder a crystal into a joint. "Most people's eyes just... glaze over."
"It makes sense. The harmonic frequency has to match the oscillation of the gear, or you just get heat-waste."
Elira just stops. She just... stares. "Okay. That's weird. You're five."
"I get that."
"I bet. I'm... I'm gonna be in town for a few weeks. You... want to be my apprentice? Unofficially? Just... help me not burn the town down?"
My heart leaps. "Yes."
"Good."
"Just don't make any weapons," Kaela says, who's been 'guarding' us by poking a spare gear with a stick.
"It's a communication amplifier!" Elira yells.
"Could be a weapon," Kaela mutters.
Two weeks later, my life is... different. Mornings with Miren. Afternoons with Elira. Evenings with Toren. Learning. Always learning.
Elira's workshop is my new favorite place. It smells like ozone and hot metal and... progress.
"We did it," I whisper.
We've been working on a new design. A water purifier. Elira's idea. but I... I helped. I figured out how to streamline the rune sequence, make it efficient.
Elira pours a bucket of muddy, algae-filled water into the top. The machine hums. The crystals glow. And out of a little spout, a stream of crystal-clear water pours out.
Elira tastes it.
Her eyes go wide. "It... It works. It actually works! First try!" She grabs me, lifts me up, and spins me around, whooping.
I'm laughing. I'm not analyzing. I'm not learning. I'm just... happy. I made this. We made this.
"Congratulations," Kaela says from the doorway. "You made water less gross."
"We made life-saving medicine," Elira says, but she's grinning. "This could clean water in field hospitals, Kaela."
"Oh." Kaela actually looks impressed. "Okay, fine. That's pretty cool."
The pride is a warm, solid thing in my chest. It feels... real.
It happens that night. I'm alone in the workshop, cleaning a tool, waiting for Elira to come back.
It's not a slow build. It's a... a crash.
One second, I'm fine. The next, the hunger is on me. It's a wave of pure, red need. I drop the tool. It shatters.
I don't care.
My vision... snaps. The world is suddenly, painfully sharp. I can smell... blood. The blacksmith, next door. He must have cut himself. The coppery, hot smell is... it's everything.
My gums burn. I feel them, the fangs, sliding down. Longer than before.
No. Not here. Not now.
I stumble, trying to get to the door, to get out. To hide.
The door opens.
It's Elira.
"Ren? You still here? I forgot my... Ren?"
She's between me and the door. And all I can smell is her. Her life. The thump-thump-thump of her heart. The hunger screams.
"Ren... your... your eyes..." Her voice is tight. Afraid. Her hand is moving to her belt, to a wrench. A weapon.
I can't let her see. I can't... I won't...
"Get. Out."
The voice that comes out isn't mine. It's a growl.
She doesn't ask questions. She's smart. She just... bolts. The door slams.
I collapse. I jam my hands onto the workbench, my nails—no, my claws—digging into the wood. I'm shaking. The smell of the blood from next door is... it's pulling me. Go. Feed. Now.
I'm fighting. I'm fighting myself. My whole body is screaming at me to hunt.
I don't know how long I'm there, a trembling, snarling thing in the dark, before the door bursts open again.
It's Toren.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't look shocked or scared. He just... crosses the room, scoops me up in one arm, and holds me. Tight. Against his leather armor.
I bury my face in his chest, the animal part of me finally, finally receding, leaving me... cold. And shaking.
"I've got you," he rumbles, his voice a shield. "I've got you, Ren."
And for a minute, I'm not the prodigy. I'm not the curse. I'm just... a five-year-old kid who's terrified of himself.