It is a gorgeous late summer afternoon. The air is thick and sweet, smelling of cut grass and the wildflowers that have taken over the edges of the fence. The sun is beginning its slow descent, bathing the entire yard in a warm, golden haze that makes everything look like a painting.
I am currently sitting cross-legged on a blanket in the middle of the grass, playing defense.
"No, Sora, that is not food," I say gently, prying a wooden block out of her mouth.
Sora glares at me with her intense, grey-blue eyes. She is dressed in a light, sage-green linen romper that allows her to crawl with terrifying speed. She has grown so much in the last few months. Her hair is thickening out, mostly the dark brown of Roxas, but this is the cool part, the very tips of her hair are a bright, sunny blonde. It looks like a natural ombré, like she dipped her head in sunlight.
She huffs, tossing the block aside, and goes back to trying to untie my shoelaces.
Iris, sitting a few feet away, is the picture of innocence. She's wearing a matching romper in pale yellow, clapping her hands together at a butterfly drifting past. Her hair is pure gold, curling slightly at the ends, framing a face that is perpetually smiling.
I lean back on my hands, watching them. They are a handful, but moments like this make the sleepless nights worth it.
I glance over my shoulder toward the cottage. The kitchen window is open, but I can hear the clatter of pots. Sylvia is busy starting dinner. Roxas is still at the shop.
The coast is clear.
I turn back to the twins.
"Hey, Sora. Iris," I whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. "You guys wanna see something cool?"
Sora pauses her assault on my shoelaces. She looks up, her expression serious and expectant. Iris just blinks, tilting her head.
I grin.
I raise my right hand, palm facing up. I close my eyes for a split second, diving into that reservoir of mana.
First, the fuel.
I pull on the mana in me. It feels heavy and dense, like wet clay. But I don't want a rock this time. I need something finer. I visualize the periodic table from my old life. I remember high school chemistry. Fireworks aren't magic; they're just burning metals. Iron for gold. Copper for blue-green. Magnesium for blinding white.
I command the mana to shift. I don't need to conjure a boulder; I need dust. Fine, metallic shavings.
Grind it down. Iron filings. Copper dust. Compress.
A small, swirling ball of greyish powder forms in the center of my palm, held together by a thin shell of mana.
Now, the ignition.
Now for the fire. It snaps and hisses in my veins, eager to burn. I feed a tiny thread of heat into the center of the dust ball. Not enough to explode it yet just enough to prime it.
I open my eyes. A faint, glowing sphere, no larger than a marble, hovers above my skin.
Sora's eyes lock onto it instantly. She goes still, watching the light with a focus that is almost scary for a baby. Iris lets out a small "Ooh!" and points a chubby finger.
"Watch this," I whisper.
I flick my wrist, tossing the sphere straight up into the air.
It rises ten, fifteen feet.
Release.
I snap the containment shell of the Earth magic. The compressed dust meets the oxygen in the air, and the mana ignites it instantly.
Because there is no gunpowder, no rapid expansion of gas inside a container,there is no loud BANG.
Instead, it's a sudden, silent bloom of light.
Fwoosh.
The sphere disintegrates into a shower of sparks. The iron filings burn a brilliant, crackling gold, while the copper dust creates streaks of emerald green. It looks like a glittering dandelion puff has just exploded over our heads, raining down harmless, fading light against the blue sky.
It creates a soft, sizzling sound, like bacon hitting a hot pan, but nothing loud enough to alert Sylvia.
I look down at the twins.
Iris loses it. She claps her hands frantically, throwing her head back and letting out a bubbling, infectious giggle. She reaches up toward the fading sparks, trying to grab the "pretty lights."
Sora doesn't laugh. She doesn't clap. She sits frozen, her neck craned back, her eyes wide and unblinking. She watches the sparks until the very last one flickers out of existence. Then, she slowly turns her head and looks at me.
She points at the sky. Then she points at my hand.
Her expression is clear: Do it again.
I chuckle, rubbing the top of her head. "Okay, okay. One more. But don't tell Mom."
I close my eyes again. Iron was gold. Copper was green. What makes red? Strontium? Lithium? I don't have those lying around in the soil. Calcium. Calcium salts burn orange-red. That's doable.
I pull from the earth again, grinding calcium-rich limestone dust into the mix, binding it with a trace of copper for contrast. I infuse the mana, carefully balancing the ignition point so it doesn't burn too hot.
I flick the marble-sized sphere into the air.
Release.
Fwoosh.
It blooms silently above us, a dazzling spray of deep orange and teal sparks spiraling outward. It's prettier than the last one, hanging in the air for a second longer before fading into ash.
Iris claps her chubby hands together, squealing, "Ahhh! Eee!"
Sora stops chewing on my shoe. She looks up, her dark eyes reflecting the fading light. She gives a singular, satisfied nod as if approving my technique and then immediately returns to her war against my laces, growling softly.
I laugh, leaning back on my hands. "Man, this is actually fun."
It's simple. It's peaceful. Just me and my sisters under the late summer sun.
"I'm home!"
Roxas strides through the gate, still wearing his work apron. He sees us on the grass and his tired face melts into a beaming smile.
"There they are! My three musketeers."
He walks over and scoops both girls up in one fluid motion, settling one in each arm.
Iris squeals, waving her arms frantically and grabbing at his nose. Sora just rests her head against his chest, letting out a contented sigh.
Roxas kisses both of their foreheads, making a loud popping sound that makes Iris giggle uncontrollably. He looks down at me.
"Looks like you're all having a good time with your big brother."
"They were being good," I say, standing up and brushing grass off my trousers. "Mostly."
Roxas chuckles. "Alright, let's get some food. I'm starving." He starts walking toward the house, then pauses, looking back at me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "We have a guest coming tonight. Soon, actually."
I tilt my head. "Who is it?"
"It's a surprise," he says, winking.
He carries the girls inside. I follow, my curiosity piqued. We don't get many guests, especially not 'surprise' ones.
Inside, the cottage is warm and smells of roasted chicken and herbs. Sylvia is at the hearth, stirring a pot of gravy. I wash my hands and immediately jump in to help.
I grab the stack of wooden plates from the shelf. I set the table with practiced efficiency forks on the left, knives on the right, cups at the top right corner. I grab the pitcher of water and fill the cups, making sure not to spill a drop. I pull the high chairs up for the twins.
By the time I'm done, the sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the sky outside the window in deep purples and blues. The room is dimming, so I grab the taper from the mantle, lighting the candles on the table and the wall sconces.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three heavy, confident raps echo from the front door.
"Must be him," I think.
"I'll get it!" I call out.
I walk to the heavy oak door. I slide the bolt back and pull it open slowly.
Standing on the porch is a man.
He is taller than Roxas by at least two inches. He has the same strong jawline and broad shoulders as my father, but he's leaner, built less like a bear and more like a wolf. His dark brown hair is long and loose, cascading around his shoulders in a slightly wild, unkempt style.
My eyes catch a small, jagged white line on the top right of his forehead, a scar. Old and faded.
He is wearing dark, functional clothing: a deep charcoal tunic under a fitted black leather vest, with dark grey trousers tucked into travel-worn boots. A heavy cloak hangs from his shoulders. But what draws my eye is the sword strapped to his hip. It isn't a ceremonial piece; the handle is worn from use.
He radiates a presence. It's a pressure, a sharpness that the village guards don't have. This guy has seen things.
He looks down at the five-year-old opening the door, and his stern face breaks into a wide, charismatic grin.
"Hey there, kiddo."
He reaches out with a large, callused hand and ruffles my hair vigorously. He doesn't wait for an invitation; he just steps inside, walking past me with a confident stride.
"Hey there, Sylvia! Long time no see!"
Sylvia turns from the stove. Her eyes go wide, and she drops her ladle into the pot.
"Dax! It's you! It's been so long!"
She wipes her hands on her apron and rushes over, throwing her arms around him in a warm hug. Dax laughs, lifting her slightly off the ground before setting her down.
Dax?
I stand by the door, watching them. I've never heard that name before.
"Dax!"
Roxas comes thundering down the stairs, carrying the twins who are now dressed in their pajamas.
"It's been a while, little brother," Roxas booms, grinning ear to ear. "How have you been? I got your letter saying you'd be visiting today."
Little brother?
I look from Roxas to Dax. Dax is taller, sharper, and looks more dangerous, but Roxas is the big brother?
"It's been quite the little journey," Dax says, releasing Sylvia and clasping forearms with Roxas. "I just got back from the East with my party. It was quite the adventure."
Roxas shifts the babies, beaming with pride. "Well, meet the new additions. This is Sora, and this is Iris."
Dax leans in, looking at the twins. His sharp expression softens instantly. "Well aren't you two just precious? Look at those cheeks."
Roxas then nods toward me. I'm still standing by the door, holding it slightly ajar, feeling a little shocked.
"And that over there is Percival."
I close the door with a soft click and walk into the light. "Nice to meet you, Dax."
Dax turns to me, his eyes scanning me up and down. "So you're Percival, huh? Your father told me you're quite the big helper around the shop."
He walks over and ruffles my hair again. His hand is heavy, his grip firm.
"This guy is different," I think. "He feels... capable."
"Percy," Roxas says, "This is my little brother, Dax. Your uncle."
Uncle?
My mind races. Roxas never mentioned a sibling. Not once in six years.
"Nice to meet you," I say politely.
Dinner is lively. We sit around the table, the roasted chicken disappearing fast. I sit opposite Dax, observing him closely as he talks. He eats with the efficiency of a man used to eating around a campfire fast, but polite.
"So," Roxas asks, tearing off a piece of bread. "How was the Eastern Continent? I heard there's been a ton going on over there. Last time I checked, the trade routes were spotty."
"Oh, you bet," Dax says, leaning back in his chair. "Monsters from the Northeast have been bothering the Dwarves in that mountain kingdom of theirs. It's messing up the entire trade network. But the South is the same old, same old."
He takes a drink of ale.
"The last adventure I was on actually was in the Sunborn Labyrinth, deep in the Demon Kingdom. Now let me tell you, that was quite something. We ended up in a skirmish with a Basilisk and some of the local demon militia."
Sunborn Labyrinth?
I chew my food slowly.
And a Basilisk. That one I know from the stories. Giant snake. Dangerous poison.
"The Demon Kingdom is usually friendly," Dax continues, gesturing with his fork. "But I think it was a corrupt faction."
"That sounds terrifying," Sylvia says, feeding Iris a spoonful of mush.
"What's it like?" I ask suddenly. "Being over there in the East?"
Dax stops eating. He glances over at me, his brown eyes locking onto mine. He smiles, but it isn't the soft smile he gave the twins. It's a grin with teeth.
"It's a place full of adventure and danger, Percy. The terrain is wilder than it is here. You always need to be on the lookout, especially in the South. There are tons of monsters that can rip you to shreds before you even hear them coming."
He gives me a playful, scary look, widening his eyes.
I don't flinch. I lean forward.
"So you're an adventurer?" I ask.
"You could say that," Dax nods. "I work with the Kingdom of Etris mostly handling the more... troubling tasks they can't send the regular army for. But I prefer to work independently. I like to adventure with my own party. Less paperwork, more glory."
He winks at me.
"So," Roxas asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "How long will you be staying? We have the guest room set up if you need it."
Dax shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll probably just be passing through tonight. Leaving in the morning. I gotta make my way back North toward the Capital. I have business regarding some of the recent reports coming out of the South."
Roxas frowns slightly, his expression turning serious. "Oh yeah? I heard about that. There's some stuff going on with Nevlah, isn't there?"
"Yeah, you heard right," Dax nods, his voice lowering just a fraction. "Apparently there's this whole revolution happening down there. It's messy, but I'm sure it'll calm down soon enough. The Kingdom doesn't want instability on the border."
He waves his hand dismissively, as if chasing away the heavy topic, and turns his grin back to Roxas.
"How have things been going with the shop, though, Roxas? I heard you're making quite the name for yourself. Just like Pops."
Roxas smiles, a humble, almost shy expression crossing his face. He rubs the back of his neck. "I'm working hard, but it will take much more time until I get to his level. The old man was a genius with wood."
I pause mid-bite. Pops?
I never realized Roxas's dad was a carpenter as well. It seems the trade runs in the family bloodline.
We continue to eat and talk as the candles burn lower. The conversation shifts away from politics and back to Dax's travels. He launches into another story, his hands moving animatedly as he describes a duel he had in a tavern near the border.
"So there I was," Dax says, chuckling. "This guy pulls a greatsword on me because I accidentally spilled his ale. Turns out, he was a Knight-ranked swordsman looking for a fight."
Knight-ranked?
Man, I never realized Dax was such a badass. To talk about fighting a knight so casually...
"Hey Dax," I interrupt, unable to keep the question inside. "You said you fought a swordsman that was Knight-ranked. How does that work?"
Dax stops talking and looks over at me. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.
"Ah," he says, leaning his elbows on the table. "Interested in swordsmanship, huh?"
I nod.
"Well," he starts, his tone shifting into something more educational. "It's not easy at all, for starters. And for the rankings... well, that's a whole other thing to explain. There are about eight ranks in total."
He holds up his fingers, counting them off.
"I'm sure the first four are the ones you need to worry about for now. Beginner, Intermediate, Rook, and Knight. There are some after that, but that's a whole other explanation."
He picks up his fork, pointing it at me.
"It isn't like a test you take on paper, Percy. You gotta prove yourself to other people through combat, pretty much. If you can beat a Knight, you're a Knight. That's the basic understanding."
I see, I think, absorbing the information. So there's a whole ranking system for swords, just like there is for magic.
We continue to talk for a bit longer, Dax regaling us with how the fight ended by tripping the guy into a pig trough and holding his sword to his throat. Now the food is gone and the twins have finally fallen asleep in Roxas's arms.
Dax stands up, stretching his arms over his head with a groan.
"Well, thank you for the food, Sylvia," he says with a charming smile. "It was delicious as always."
"You're welcome, Dax. Be safe out there," she says warmly.
"Brother, it was so good to see you," Dax says, pulling Roxas into a one-armed hug, careful not to wake the babies.
He walks over to where I'm sitting. He reaches out and ruffles my hair one last time, messing it up completely. Then, he leans down and gently pinches the cheeks of Sora and Iris.
"Goodbye, little ones."
He heads to the door, throwing his heavy cloak over his shoulders.
"I might pass by on the way back from the North, Roxas. I will let you know in advance," he says, his hand on the latch. "Thank you again."
"I'll walk you out," Roxas says softly.
As Roxas steps out onto the porch with Dax, I slide off my chair.
"I'm going to bed," I whisper to Sylvia.
I head upstairs, my mind buzzing. I walk into my room and close the door, then immediately run and jump onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Man. Revolutions in the South. Labyrinths in the East. A ranking system for swordsmen involving "Rooks" and "Knights."
There are so many things about this world I never realized.