James blew on the soup he drank to cool it down when cold air escaped his lungs. In an instant, his entire bowl flash-froze into a solid block of ice, the spoon froze to his hand, and the table developed a thin layer of frost in a perfect circle around his lunch.
"Hmmm," James grunted to the frozen soup sculpture, "that's new."
He'd been testing his other affinities for two weeks now, ever since mastering basic teleportation. The theory was sound: if he had Eldritch magic manifesting early, other branches might be accessible too. He just needed to figure out which ones.
Elemental magic was the obvious place to start. It was the most common affinity, the most documented, the most likely to have clear testing methods.
He'd tried fire first, obviously. Fire was cool. Literally the opposite of cool, but metaphorically cool. Every mage wanted fire magic.
James had managed to produce smoke and a singed eyebrow.
Water magic had resulted in a damp spot on his desk that could've been magic or could've been a spill. Inconclusive.
Earth magic did absolutely nothing, which was disappointing.
Air magic made him sneeze violently for five minutes straight.
Lightning magic yielded no result as well. Earth and Lightning were really begining to piss him off.
But ice? Ice apparently loved him.
James focused on the frozen soup, trying to understand what had just happened. He'd wanted it cool, and with that intent, the temperature had plummeted instantly. He noticed that the mana cost had been moderate. Less than teleportation, more than telekinesis.
He tried again, this time targeting just a glass of water. He visualized the molecules slowing down, heat energy dissipating and liquid crystallizing into solid.
And the water froze in seconds, ice crystals forming in a beautiful geometric pattern.
"Okay," James breathed. "This is definitely elemental magic. Specifically ice."
He spent the next hour experimenting, learning the feel of his elemental affinity. It was different from Eldritch magic. Less about will and force, more about... harmony? Connection? He wasn't imposing his desire on reality; he was asking the water molecules politely if they'd mind being colder, and they were enthusiastically agreeing.
"This is so weird," he muttered, freezing and thawing the same glass of water repeatedly. "Magic is weird. Why does polite request work better than forceful command?"
Because elemental magic was about working with nature, not against it. The books had mentioned that. Elementalists who tried to dominate their element struggled. Those who cooperated thrived.
James tested his range, his precision, his control. Could he freeze moving water? Yes. Could he create ice from ambient humidity? Barely. Could he freeze living things?
He picked up a spider that had been hanging out in the corner of his room. "Sorry about this, Frederick."
"You named the spider?"
James nearly jumped out of his skin. Miranda Hollis was standing in his doorway, looking amused.
"How did you—my door was closed!"
"Your mom let me in. Said you've been hiding in your room for weeks and need social interaction." Miranda stepped inside uninvited, eyeing the multiple glasses of ice on his desk. "Why do you have so much ice? Are you sick? My grandmother says ice helps with fevers."
James's mind raced. Miranda was in his room. With evidence of magical experimentation everywhere. This was bad.
"Science project," he said quickly. "About... freezing rates. Very boring for your hominid mind, you should go."
"It's Saturday. We don't have science homework." Miranda picked up one of the frozen glasses, examining it with the casual curiosity of someone who didn't understand they were looking at illegal magical practice. "These patterns are pretty though. How'd you get them so symmetrical?"
—James is so weird but interesting-weird, not boring-weird like Thomas who only talks about his dad's horse—
Her thought came through clearly. James's telepathy had gotten better at passive reception. He could hear people within thirty feet without trying now, which was useful for avoiding conversations he didn't want to have.
Unfortunately, it wasn't helping him avoid this conversation.
"Miranda, I'm busy—"
"Doing what? Staring at ice?" She sat on his bed without asking. "Everyone at school thinks you're strange, you know. You talk to yourself, you show up in different places without anyone seeing you move, and Tommy Gibbons swears you made his pencil float during mathematics."
James's blood went cold. Colder than his ice magic. "Tommy Gibbons is an idiot."
"Tommy Gibbons is observant. Also yes, an idiot. But an observant idiot." Miranda leaned forward conspiratorially. "Are you magic?"
"No."
—he's lying, his eye does that twitchy thing—
"Your eye twitches when you lie," Miranda said helpfully.
"It does not!"
"It's doing it right now."
James forced himself to stay calm. Miranda was eight, same as him. She had no authority, no power to expose him. She was just a nosy classmate who'd somehow stumbled into his secret magical practice.
He could handle this. He could either recruit her or ensure her silence through the strategic manipulation of her desires and—no, wait, that was villain thinking.
"If I were magic," James said carefully, "which I'm not, hypothetically speaking, would you tell anyone?"
Miranda considered this seriously. "Depends. What kind of magic?"
"Hypothetically?"
"Hypothetically."
"The kind that could freeze your tongue to the roof of your mouth if you told anyone."
Miranda's eyes widened. Then she grinned. "That's brilliant. Can you actually do that?"
"I'm not confirming anything."
—he can definitely do that, this is the most interesting thing that's happened ever—
"I won't tell," Miranda said. "On one condition."
James sighed. Of course there was a condition. "What?"
"Teach me."
"What?"
"Teach me magic. I don't have an affinity yet, won't know until I'm twelve, but maybe I could learn early like you obviously did." Miranda's expression was eager, almost desperate. "My parents want me to be a clerk. A clerk, James. Do you know how boring that is? But if I had magic—"
"That's not how it works. You can't learn magic without an affinity."
"You did."
"I didn't—" James stopped. He'd been about to say he didn't learn it, it just manifested, but that would confirm he actually had magic.
Miranda's grin widened. "Got you."
"You're annoying."
"I'm persistent." She stood up, examining his collection of frozen glasses more closely. "So this is ice magic? Can you do other elements?"
"I'm not teaching you magic."
"Why not? Scared I'll be better than you?"
"No, because it's dangerous and illegal and—" James caught himself again. "Hypothetically dangerous and illegal."
—he's going to say yes, I can tell, he's lonely and wants someone to share this with even if he won't admit it—
"I'm not lonely," James said before thinking.
Miranda's expression shifted to a knowing one. "I didn't say you were. But now I know you can read minds too. That's Eldritch magic, right? The fancy kind nobles pay fortunes for?"
James pinched the bridge of his nose. This conversation was spiraling out of control. "If I hypothetically show you one thing, one small, harmless thing, will you hypothetically promise to leave me alone and never speak of this to anyone?"
"Absolutely not. But I'll promise not to tell anyone else."
"That's not—those are the same thing!"
"No, one includes you. The other doesn't. Words matter, James."
She was right, and he hated that she was right. James weighed his options. He could try to threaten her into silence, but that felt wrong and probably wouldn't work anyway. He could try to memory-wipe her with telepathy, but he had no idea if that was even possible and it seemed deeply unethical.
Or he could accept that someone now knew his secret and try to manage the situation.
James could burn the bridge and salt the earth right now by freezing her body and hiding it somewhere, perfectly preserved. There would be missing reports but who'd suspect an eight year old?
But James was eight and tired of being alone. And what eight year old kid thought of stuff like "burning the bridge and salting the earth"? Maybe he needed more social interactions. That would be a good skill to cultivate.
"One demonstration," he said finally. "Then you leave and we never discuss this in public. Agreed?"
"Agreed!"
James picked up the glass of water he'd been practicing with. "This is elemental magic. Ice specifically. Watch."
He focused on the water, feeling the familiar pull of his elemental affinity. This time, instead of just freezing it, he tried something more complex. Froze it in layers, creating a spiral pattern inside the ice. Made it beautiful and precise and completely impossible without magic.
The ice formed slowly, crystals growing in perfect helical patterns. Miranda's eyes went huge.
"That's amazing," she breathed.
—it's beautiful and I want to learn so badly—
"It's also exhausting and dangerous," James said, setting down the glass. "If I lose control, I could freeze my own blood. If I use too much mana, I pass out. If anyone important finds out, I could get pruned or experimented on or both. This isn't a game, Miranda."
"I know." Her expression was serious now. "My aunt had fire magic. She accidentally burned down a barn when she was fourteen. She couldn't stop emitting flames. They pruned her for it. Said she was too dangerous to let live."
James felt something like disgust brewing in him. "I'm sorry."
"That's why I want to learn. If I have an affinity, when I have affinity, I want to be ready. Want to be in control. So what happened to her doesn't happen to me." Miranda met his eyes. "Please, James. I won't tell anyone. I'll help you hide it. Just... teach me what you can."
—please please please please please—
Even her thoughts were annoying.
James made a decision he'd probably regret.
"Fine. But rules. Serious rules."
"Anything."
"One: You never practice without me present. Ever."
"Agreed."
"Two: If you develop an affinity that isn't ice, we stop immediately. James can only teach what he knows."
"Agreed."
"Three: If we're caught, you claim I was showing off and you were just watching. I take the blame. All of it."
Miranda frowned. "That's not fair—"
"That's the rule. I'm already damned. No point in both of us getting burnt."
She looked like she wanted to argue, her cheeks puffed, but finally nodded. "Agreed."
"Good. Now leave. I have research to do."
"When do we start?"
"Tomorrow. After church. Meet me at the old mill."
Miranda practically bounced with excitement. "Thank you, James! You won't regret this!"
—I'm going to learn magic. Magic is so cool—
She left in a whirl of enthusiasm, leaving James alone with his frozen glasses and complicated feelings.
"I'm already regretting this," he told Frederick the spider, who'd survived his freezing experiment and was now hanging from a web in the corner, probably judging him.
But maybe, just maybe, having one person who knew his secret wouldn't be terrible. Someone to practice with. Someone to help maintain his cover. Someone who understood.
"Or she'll accidentally reveal everything and we'll both be screwed," James muttered. "Could go either way."
He documented the day's discoveries in his journal:
Elemental affinity CONFIRMED: Ice. Primary element appears to be ice specifically. Control is moderate. Power is decent. Precision needs work.
Also: Miranda Hollis knows. A minor setback that would be remedied soon enough.
This is either a strategic alliance or a security failure on James's part. Time will tell.
He'd find out tomorrow, at the old mill, if he either made the best or worst decision of his second life.
For tonight, he practiced freezing water into increasingly complex patterns and tried not to think about how many ways this could go wrong.