James had been leaving the house regularly to steal copper wire from the town's recycling depot for two weeks when his mother noticed he'd made a friend.
"So," Eliza said over breakfast, trying very hard to sound casual. "You've been spending a lot of time with the Hollis girl."
"What Hollis girl?" James asked, feigning ignorance as he ate his food.
"The one with the red hair?" His mom raised an eyebrow at him, indicating that he wasn't fooling anyone.
James looked up from his eggs, immediately suspicious. "Miranda? We study together sometimes."
"Every Saturday. For three months now."
"She needs help with school... stuff."
"Does she?" Eliza's smile was doing something James found deeply unsettling—it was the smile of a mother who thought she'd discovered something adorable. "That's very kind of you, sweetheart."
—finally making friends, I was worried he'd be alone forever, maybe they'll get married when they're older—
James choked on his eggs. "Mother!"
"What?"
"Nothing. The eggs were very hot. An unexpected temperature."
Grayson looked up from his newspaper, grinning. "Your mother's just happy you're socializing. You've been quite the hermit."
"Like all great minds Father."
"You're eight," Eliza said gently. "You're allowed to have friends. Bring Miranda over for dinner sometime. I'd love to meet her properly."
—see if she's good enough for my brilliant son—
"We're not—she's just—" James gave up. "I'll ask her."
He would absolutely not ask her. The last thing he needed was his mother interrogating Miranda while he had components for an illegal device hidden in his room.
Speaking of which.
After breakfast, James retreated to his room and pulled out his growing collection of materials. Three months of scavenging had netted him: two pounds of copper wire, seven cracked crystals, a broken pocket watch with interesting gearing, several batteries from discarded devices, and one very suspicious piece of quartz that hummed when he channeled mana through it.
The Soul Splitter's design was evolving. Initial sketches had been crude, basically a box with ritual circles. But as James learned more about both soul theory and energy mechanics, the design became more sophisticated.
He was building something like a magical battery, but instead of storing energy, it would store consciousness. The copper wire would form the conductive pathways. The crystals would act as binding anchors. The gears from the pocket watch would regulate the transfer rate, preventing too-fast separation that might damage his soul's integrity.
"Incredible," he muttered, sketching new modifications. "Completely incredible."
But it was working. Sort of. He'd tested the basic framework with tiny amounts of mana, not actual soul fragments, just energy. The device could store it, hold it stable, then release it back to him without degradation.
Small victories.
A knock at his window made him jump. Miranda was hanging from the tree outside, grinning like an idiot.
"You know we have a door," James said, opening the window.
"Doors are for normal people. I brought copper." She climbed inside, dropping a sack that clinked heavily. "Stripped it from my father's old bookshelf braces. He never uses that shelf anyway."
"Your father's going to notice."
"My father hasn't looked at that bookshelf in five years. Trust me." Miranda emptied the sack as more copper wire and materials fell. "I also found this."
She held up a small crystal, perfectly clear, no cracks.
"Where did you get that?" James breathed, taking it carefully.
"The magistrate's wife throws away jewelry when it goes out of fashion. I may have acquired this from her donation pile." Miranda looked smug. "Before it reached the charity shop, obviously."
"You stole from the magistrate's wife."
"I rescued it from becoming a poor person's dowry gift."
—he's impressed, I can tell, even if he's pretending to disapprove—
James ignored her thoughts and examined the crystal. It was perfect. Better than perfect. This could serve as the primary anchor point, the core where larger soul fragments would be stored during the test.
"This is good," he admitted. "Really good. How much trouble will you be in if they notice?"
"None. The magistrate's wife donates jewelry monthly. No one tracks it." Miranda peered at his workbench. "Is that the device?"
"Early prototype. Non-functional. Missing about sixty components."
The prototype looked like a mechanical disaster. Copper wire wound around a wooden frame, crystals embedded at specific points, gears from the pocket watch positioned but not yet integrated. To anyone else, it would look like a child's art project.
To James, it was the foundation of his salvation.
"It's ugly," Miranda observed.
"It's a soul-storage device dear Miranda, not a fashion statement."
James gestured to her. "Help me wind this wire. Needs to be precisely spaced, three millimeters between coils."
They worked in comfortable silence for an hour. James had learned that Miranda was surprisingly good with her hands, able to follow technical instructions without constantly questioning why. She'd make a decent engineer if she ever developed scientific aptitude instead of magic.
"Question," Miranda said, securing a coil. "What happens if someone activates this device while you're not ready? Like, accidentally?"
"It's keyed to my mana signature. Only responds to me." James showed her the binding rune etched into the frame. "See this? It's basically a magical lock. Even if someone figured out what this is, highly unlikely, they couldn't use it."
"Smart."
"I do not recall ever doing something that wasn't."
They worked until afternoon, making steady progress. The device was maybe twenty percent complete, enough to see the shape of what it would become, but still far from functional.
"Same time next week?" Miranda asked as she prepared to leave.
"Bring more crystals if you can find them. And any small gears, clockwork stuff. The transfer mechanism needs more precision than I currently have."
"I'll see what I can scavenge." Miranda paused at the window. "Your mother invited me to dinner."
James groaned. "You can say no."
"I said yes."
"Why?"
"Because I like your mother. And saying no would be suspicious." Miranda grinned. "Besides, I want to see you be awkward in a social setting. It'll be hilarious."
"Hmm."
She climbed out the window and dropped down to the garden below.
James returned to his workbench, already dreading dinner. But he had more immediate concerns, like the fact that his ice magic was manifesting stronger lately. Yesterday he'd accidentally frozen his entire wash basin solid while brushing his teeth.
Control was improving, but power was growing faster than control. He needed to practice more, needed to ensure he could manage all his abilities simultaneously during the test.
He spent the afternoon in his usual routine: telekinesis exercises, telepathy range-testing, ice manipulation practice. Each ability was advancing at different rates. Telekinesis was nearly combat-ready. Telepathy had extended to seventy feet passive range. Ice magic was becoming second nature.
But he still hadn't tested for other elemental affinities. Ice was clearly his primary element, but what about fire? Earth? Air? Lightning?
"Later," he told himself. "Device first."
---
That evening, Eliza cornered him in the hallway.
"Miranda's coming for dinner Friday." Her eyes twinkling with maternal conspiracy as she spoke. "I'm making pot roast. Your favorite."
"You don't need to—"
"I absolutely do. It's important to know your son's friends." Eliza kissed his forehead. "Especially the girl he spends every Saturday with."
"We're eight."
"I met your father when I was nine."
"That's—we're not—Mother, please stop."
—he's so flustered, it's adorable, my baby is growing up—
James fled to his room and buried himself in soul theory textbooks to avoid thinking about his mother's increasingly elaborate imagination.
Friday came too quickly.
Miranda arrived wearing an actual dress, her crimson hair properly brushed, looking disturbingly respectable. James, in his usual practical clothes, suddenly felt underdressed in his own home.
"You look nice," Eliza said warmly. "Come in, dear. Dinner's almost ready."
"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Aldric." Miranda's voice was perfectly polite, her smile perfectly charming.
—operation win over James's parents, activate—
James shot her a telepathic glare and she ignored it.
Dinner was exactly as awkward as James feared. Eliza asked Miranda about her family, her studies, her interests. Miranda answered with the perfect balance of politeness and personality, occasionally throwing in details clearly designed to make James look good by association.
"James has been helping me so much with mathematics," Miranda said, accepting seconds of pot roast. "He explains things so clearly. Much better than our teacher."
"Of course, Mr. Wendell is a fool."
"James!" Eliza shot him a look that made him bow his head.
"He's always had a gift for understanding complex things," Grayson said proudly. "Takes after his mother, really. She could explain anything to anyone."
"I'm sitting right here," James muttered.
"We know, sweetheart," Eliza said, smiling. "We're saying nice things about you. Just accept it."
The conversation drifted to other topics. Grayson mentioned his work at the archives. Something about new documentation requirements from the territorial governor. His tone was carefully neutral, but James caught an undercurrent of frustration.
"More bureaucracy?" Eliza asked.
"Always more bureaucracy. The governor's office is requesting detailed records of all magical artifacts in the region. Census of gifted individuals. Testing schedules." Grayson shook his head. "It feels excessive."
"It's for security," Eliza said, though she didn't sound convinced. "With tensions between the Dominion and Imperium increasing—"
"Tensions have been increasing for three thousand years. This feels different. More... targeted."
James filed that information away. The territorial government was tracking magic users more closely. That could complicate things if his affinity manifested unusually.
After dinner, Miranda helped clear dishes despite Eliza's protests, earning more parental approval points. James watched his mother fall completely under Miranda's charm offensive and felt no amusement and only resignation.
"She's lovely," Eliza whispered to him while Miranda was "helping" Grayson in the kitchen. "And clearly very fond of you."
"Mother. Stop."
"I'm just saying—"
"Please don't."
—my son and his first crush, I need to document this—
"We're eight!" James hissed.
"You keep saying that like it means something."
After Miranda finally left with promises to return, Eliza's approval radiated like sunlight, with one backward glance that James absolutely did not interpret as meaningful, and he retreated to his room and locked the door to add a note to his journal:
Note: Mother has grown fond of Miranda. This is both premature and deeply uncomfortable. Focus must remain on: building device, mastering magic.
Secondary note: Father mentioned increased government surveillance of magic users. The territorial governor is tracking gifted individuals and magical artifacts more closely. This is new. Potentially problematic. Need to monitor situation.
Current project status:
- Device: 20% complete
- Materials: Adequate for next phase
- Parent approval of cover story: Unexpectedly high
- Social complications: Increasing
James closed the journal, returned to his workbench, and worked on the Soul Splitter until exhaustion forced him to sleep.
The wire coils were perfectly spaced now. The crystals aligned and the framework in general taking shape.