The next morning, Alya stood outside the store with her hands on her hips, Wak perched proudly on her head like a judgmental crown.
I sighed.
"I said I was sorry."
"And I said I do not accept."
But her tail flicked in amusement.
"Since you're already ahead of me," she continued, "we're skipping gathering practice and going straight to spellcasting."
My stomach dropped.
"…Can I choose something easy?"
"Nope. Fire first."
"Why fire?!"
"Because it's dramatic. Now hold still."
She handed me a spell primer.
"Ignis Minor — Small Flame."
"Just direct the mana to your fingertip," Alya instructed. "Imagine heat gathering. A spark. A candle's breath."
I breathed in.
Focused.
Channeled mana.
Nothing.
I tried again.
And again.
Nothing.
Alya crossed her arms.
"Okay. Fire's not your thing. Let's try air."
Air was easier—right?
Apparently not.
I concentrated until my head throbbed…
but the only thing that moved was a crumpled leaf.
Barely.
Alya patted my shoulder sympathetically.
"It's okay," she said gently. "Most people need weeks—months even—to cast their first spell. Honestly, if you managed fire or air today, I would've accused you of cheating."
I slumped.
Jerry tightened around my arm as if trying to calm me.
Alya tapped her quill against her notebook.
"Okay. Last try. Water."
I blinked.
"Water?"
"Yes. Just… humor me."
She positioned herself at a safe distance.
Which, in hindsight, I should've questioned.
"Alright," she said. "Picture water. Cool. Fluid. Flowing."
Easy.
The ocean was inside me.
In my bones.
In my breath.
I tilted my finger outward.
Mana swirled through me like tidewater—
smooth, natural, right—
And then—
BLAAAAASSHHHH!!!
A geyser of pressurized water erupted from my fingertip.
Like a gods-damned fountain.
It hit Alya square in the face.
She didn't just get wet.
She got obliterated.
Slammed back into a crate.
Knocked off her feet.
Wak yowled in betrayal.
Water dripped from the ceiling.
From the walls.
From Alya's hair.
From Alya's ears.
Oh no.
"Oh gods, Alya—I am SO SORRY—"
Alya sat up slowly, drenched.
Her hair clung to her face.
Her tail sagged.
Wak squelched in her arms.
She stared at me with the dead-eyed expression of someone contemplating homicide.
"Mavis."
"Yes?!"
"…I need to go home and change."
"Understandable."
She stood, squeezing water out of her sleeves.
"But before I leave…"
She pointed a trembling finger at me.
"That was a water spell. A real one. And you cast it on your first try."
"Is… is that good?"
Alya stared.
"Mavis. You may be proficient with water."
"Proficient?"
"It means it's your natural affinity."
"Oh."
There was a pause.
Then she stomped off.
Wak hissed.
And I was left dripping in the alley, Jerry tightening around me like a smug scarf.
I exhaled.
"Well…" I muttered. "That went fine."
Jerry hummed.
"You are water. It is obvious."
I froze.
"…What do you mean?"
"Nothing."
He flicked his tongue, annoyed.
"And stop calling me Jerry."
"Jerry," I said with dangerous calm, "if you don't explain, I'm making you sleep in the bookstore tonight."
Jerry went still.
Then deflated emotionally.
"…Fine."
He sighed—a tiny, dramatic hiss.
"It is obvious you are proficient with water. Why?"
"That's what I'm asking YOU."
Jerry stared at me.
Long.
Slow.
Evaluating.
Then:
"…You truly don't know."
"Know what?"
He turned away.
"Never mind."
He coiled tighter.
"I am tired. Take me home."
I frowned.
But he refused to say more.
Later that night…
After dinner, after washing up, after changing into warm clothes, I sat on my bed and untangled the blankets.
Jerry lay coiled at the foot of the mattress, glowing faintly in the dark.
"Jerry," I whispered.
He didn't move.
"Jerry. What are you exactly?"
Silence.
Only the soft glow of his runes.
Then finally—
soft, deep, ancient:
"I am Jörmungandr. The serpent of the sea."
I shivered.
He continued.
"In the old ages, humans called me a myth. A beast spun in Norse tales. They claimed I circled the world, biting my own tail. That I would rise at Ragnarok and destroy the gods."
My breath caught.
He said it so matter-of-factly.
So real.
"I had siblings," he continued.
"Sleiphnir, the mightiest steed. Fenrir, the great wolf who devours the sun."
I swallowed.
"…Those are your siblings?"
"Yes. And Loki was our father."
I stared.
Completely stunned.
The candle flickered.
The room darkened.
Jerry's eyes glowed like twin ocean moons.
"I am no myth, Mavis."
"No bedtime story."
"No legend."
He lifted his tiny head proudly.
"I am the sea's wrath. The tide's heart. The depth no mortal can reach."