Something patted his face. Aden groaned, cracking one eye open. He was on the floor. Fantastic. His Poppa hovered over him, looking far too concerned for Aden’s liking.

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted when you found out you’re a wizard.” William leaned back, studying him like he might keel over again.

  Aden pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling the cold sweat clinging to his hairline. “Wizard.” The word tasted foreign, like a mystery ingredient someone snuck into his meal. “No, see, I think you meant to say ‘rancher.’ Or ‘unicorn wrangler.’ Or literally anything else that doesn’t sound like the beginning of my vilin origin story.”

  William sighed. “It’s not that bad, son.”

  Aden let out a hollow ugh. “Not that bad? Not that bad?” He gestured vaguely at the air. “Poppa, I already have the whole ‘Amelia’s son’ thing hanging over my head like a doom prophecy. Now I get to add ‘magic bomb waiting to go off’ to my resume? Awesome. Really rounding out the skill set.”

  William opened his mouth, but Aden was already scrambling to his feet. “Nope. Nope. I’m done. I’m going to bed. Maybe when I wake up, this will just be another bizarre fever dream, and I can go back to worrying about normal things. Like hay prices. Or Jimmy being a jackass.”

  Before his father could respond, Aden turned and bolted up the stairs, smming his door behind him like it could keep reality out.

  Upstairs, Aden smmed the door shut and slid down, pressing his back against it. He dragged his hands down his face, as if that would somehow erase the sheer ridiculousness of the day. A wizard. Of all the things that could happen, the universe really went with that? Fantastic. He already had a lifetime subscription to the Amelia Welex Memorial Spotlight; now they were throwing in a magic bonus package? Unbelievable.

  ‘Okay. No big deal. I just—don’t use magic. Easy. Simple.’ Aden tried to rationalize, but his brain had other pns. The panic slipped in like a nosy neighbor peeking through the curtains. What if Starburner was right? What if he went full magical meltdown like Uncle David and ended up a cautionary tale in the family archives? His chest tightened, his breath stuttered, and before he knew it, he was seconds away from hyperventiting over something he hadn’t even confirmed yet. Perfect.

  Starburner’s voice came from the other side of the door a few minutes ter. "Aden, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you deserve to know the truth. Your allergy is because you’re a wizard. I know this is overwhelming, but I promise—it’s not as terrible as you think. Magic is a part of you, and with the right guidance, you’ll learn to control it. That’s why I’m here—to make sure you don’t have to face this alone."

  “Go away.” Aden thunked his head against the door, gring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. Maybe if he ignored reality long enough, it would get bored and go haunt someone else.

  “We can’t. We need to talk.” A gentle thunk sounded behind him—great, now even the sword was getting comfortable. “How old are you?” Because clearly, his life wasn’t weird enough without a magical intervention questionnaire.

  “Almost sixteen,” he muttered, already bracing for whatever nonsense was about to follow.

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Starburner sounded so relieved, Aden half expected confetti to rain from the ceiling. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

  “Why?” Aden asked, dreading the answer. Because with his luck, it was probably something stupid, like spontaneous wizard combustion.

  Starburner took a pause so dramatic Aden could practically hear the imaginary drumroll. "After two years of being hidden, magic will poison the wizard... and they’ll waste away within a year." So basically, great news all around.

  Aden’s heart smmed against his ribs, each beat a desperate, erratic drum. The edges of his vision wavered, the world tilting like an off-kilter painting. His breath came too fast, too shallow. He shoved himself upright, fingers digging into the wood of his door as he yanked it open. Starburner tumbled inside with an undignified yelp, her bde catching the light, silver reflections dancing across its surface like ripples on water. Aden barely noticed—his focus was on the sheer absurdity of what he had just heard. "Seriously?!"

  She rose into the air, meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

  Alexand, floating beside her in his book form, fpped his pages open. Aden instinctively took a step back, because when books started moving on their own, caution seemed like a reasonable reaction. The pages turned, revealing text. “The first sign is low endurance.”

  Aden snorted. “Well, that expins why walking up the stairs feels like I’m summiting a mountain.” He folded his arms, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. “Can a wizard, I don’t know, shove all this magic nonsense under the rug?”

  Alexand’s pages flipped again. Aden squinted at the new words: "Yes, but why would you want to?"

  “Gee, I don’t know, maybe because I don’t feel like adding ‘magical freakshow’ to my already exhausting list of personal bels?” He exhaled sharply and waved them into the room. He picked his way through the battlefield of clothes and books on the floor before colpsing onto his bed. “Do you even know who I am?”

  “Just your first name.” Starburner drifted through the mess like she had a built-in ‘ignore clutter’ function, with Alexand close behind.

  “Aden Welex.”

  Starburner’s voice brightened. “Little Aden, Amelia’s son?” She sounded genuinely pleased. “What a fine young man you’ve become.”

  Aden groaned. “Oh great, another person who only sees ‘Amelia’s son.’ Just fantastic.” He flopped onto his back, rubbing his temples. “Look, I already have people tripping over themselves to worship the ground I walk on. I do not need to add ‘wizard’ to that circus. If I have to deal with this, I need to hide it.”

  The text in Alexand’s book form shifted, words forming slowly, “The first week will be impossible to hide, but after that, with practice, you could manage.”

  Aden groaned again, letting his head fall back against the bedpost. "Oh good. A training montage. Can’t wait to get my obligatory dramatic slow-motion moment." He gnced at his hands, half-expecting them to start glowing ominously. "So, what’s next? Do I need to climb a mountain and meditate in the cold, or is this more of a ‘figure it out as you go’ kind of thing?"

  Starburner hovered closer, tilting her head. “Grab my hilt.”

  Aden hesitated. “That sounds like the setup to a very bad life choice.” He awkwardly wrapped his fingers around her hilt.

  In an instant, the room disappeared, repced by a surreal, dreamlike ndscape. He found himself standing in a pce that didn’t feel real—fluffy silver clouds surrounded him, their shapes swirling and shifting like they were alive. The air was thick with the smell of fresh rain, and the ground beneath his feet felt soft, like walking on pillows. Everything about the pce was peaceful and alive with magic.

  “This is my mindscape,” Starburner expined, her silver hair glinting like moonlight as she tucked a curl behind her pointed ear. “You’re still at home, holding me, but in time, you’ll make your own mindscape.”

  “Okay, wow,” Aden breathed, awe creeping into his voice. “I was expecting, I don’t know, some dramatic fire pit or an ominous void, but this? This is disturbingly pleasant.”

  Starburner smiled at him, her slender form standing gracefully against the shimmering clouds. She had an otherworldly beauty, like a well-bred racing unicorn—lean, powerful, and elegant.

  “Esmerelda Thorenberry was my name,” she said, striking a pose like she was about to be painted for a grand portrait.

  Aden gasped. “You mean to tell me I’ve been getting life advice from an actual legend this whole time? That feels like something you could’ve led with.”

  “I see you know of me,” she mused.

  “Four hundred years ago, you were basically a magical celebrity,” Aden said, blinking. “And now you're a sword. Talk about a career shift. Songs were written about you. Artists flocked to capture your likeness. I would have joined them if I’d been alive back then.”

  Starburner chuckled softly. "I know, tragic, isn’t it? A girl’s got to work with what she has."

  Aden reached for her other hand. In the physical world, his right hand grabbed the hilt. Silver light fred around both of them, both inside and outside their minds. When it faded, Aden felt a stronger connection to her.

  Starburner pulled him into a brief but heartfelt hug. “Thank you for trusting me and your magic.”

  Aden stepped back, shaking his head. He took in his surroundings again. The once-silver clouds now had a green hue, chaotic and disordered, reflecting his inner turmoil. Hidden images floated in and out of the mist, pying peek-a-boo with him.

  “This must be my mind,” he muttered.

  “Correct,” said a voice behind him.

  Aden turned to see Alexand standing beside Starburner, his arms folded across his chest. Except, in here, Alexand wasn’t a book. He was an elf, Aden's height—short for his kind—but he carried himself as though he were taller, his posture unwavering, his presence commanding. with silver hair cropped short and an air of perpetual authority. His features were sharp, the kind of face that looked like it had opinions on everything—and expected you to listen.

  “I heard you couldn’t talk,” Aden said, folding his arms. “Was that just an aesthetic choice, or were you waiting for the most dramatic possible moment to reveal that little skill?”

  Alexand’s expression remained composed, his silver eyes steady as if he had answered this question a thousand times before. "Telepathy breaks the physical limitations of my body, allowing me to transmit my thoughts to you," his voice resonated directly in Aden’s mind, smooth and precise, as though he were speaking aloud.

  Aden arched an eyebrow. “Oh, great, another mystical know-it-all who floats above us mere mortals. You want a pedestal too, or is your elf form dramatic enough?”

  Alexand’s brow furrowed slightly, his stance unwavering. He turned his gaze toward his sister, his expression one of quiet inquiry. "What did I do wrong?"

  Starburner giggled, covering her mouth. “Oh, Alexand, he’s got that Amelia spice. You’re in for a ride.”

  Aden clenched his jaw. Here we go again—the Amelia Welex fan club, back at it. It was always about her. The mother who had died when he was two, the hero who had sacrificed herself for Spectra. He was always "Amelia’s boy." No one cared to know Aden Welex, son of William Welex.

  Alexand, sensing the shift in Aden’s demeanor, inclined his head slightly. "She tested me as well. The sharpest steel is forged in fire, after all." He took a measured step closer. "Alright, Aden. I will not act as a superior, but as a guide. In return, you must be willing to learn."

  “Deal,” Aden said, shaking his hand.

  Alexand radiated an air of quiet wisdom, his presence steady and unshaken, as though rooted in time itself. "Magic is energy, Aden, and like all energy, it must be contained or it will find its own path. Let me show you how to hold it properly—before it decides to hold you."

  An image of Aden’s exploding datapad fshed between them, repying the moment in vivid detail. Both elves watched as young Aden cried out, just before the device burst into a shower of sparks, sending him smashing into the wall. Mrs. McCool ran toward him, healing his wounds with her magic talent.

  “You’re a lucky young man to have survived your magic awakening,” Alexand touched the image and it rewound. “See this spark?”

  What Aden took to be a trick of the light at the time revealed itself as a pinprick of light with eight points radiating from it.

  “Yeah…?”

  “That is your magic, announcing that it is mature,” Alexand expined. He took the spark out of the image and held it up. It sat in his hand, about the size of a tennis ball, changing colors. “In my time, every almost fourteen-year-old was brought to the nearest Wizard’s Guild Outpost and watched for the burst of magic. This not only allowed us to keep tabs on new wizards and school them, but it let us protect them from incidents like yours.”

  Aden tilted his head to one side, examining it. Now he remembered how each time a datapad exploded, a much smaller spark shot from his hand. “And the other times?”

  Alexand gestured to the spark. “Since you weren’t fully awakened, the magic went dormant,” he went on. “Each wizard is unique. Normally, the magic simply maintains your body, healing all health problems. That’s why your gsses surprised me. The more powerful the wizard, the more powerful the reaction.”

  Everything clicked into pce for Aden. “Hold up. You’re telling me I’m basically a walking power pnt? And no one thought to mention this sooner?”

  Alexand dipped his head.

  “That expins so much!” Aden excimed, pointing at the frozen image. “We had the datapad examined; there was a power surge all across the master board. Every chip, every single part, overloaded. No one at Orange Data understood why.”

  Another image swirled around them, showing a puzzled Aden and William as they talked to a young woman in an orange jumpsuit, turning the ruined datapad in her hands.

  “Shall we begin?” Alexand held out his hands like some ancient wizard about to bestow forbidden knowledge. Because clearly, his life wasn’t extra enough already.

  “I suppose so.” Aden stared at the hands for a minute. “What?”

  Alexand wiggled his fingers. “I require a connection with you as well. To help you learn better.”

  In the outside world, Aden caught the book with both hands. The same silver light fred around them. Basic memories flowed between them. They did not become friends, but they learned enough about each other to avoid awkwardness. Alexand’s book form changed to be more modern, becoming slender instead of bulky like a dictionary. He now was the size of a handheld datapad.

  Alexand’s book form hovered between them, a stark reminder of the duality Aden had to reconcile. The authoritative elf within his mind and the floating book in reality were one and the same—both bound by limitations, yet still a wellspring of knowledge. The contrast sent a shiver of unease through him. "Ready?"

  “I suppose.” Aden braced himself.

  Millions of multicolored pinpricks of light spiraled around Aden, moving with an almost sentient rhythm. Some flickered like candle fmes, while others pulsed with a steady, deliberate energy. The brightest of them darted toward him, slipping beneath his skin like liquid lightning. A sharp, tingling sensation surged through his body, not quite pain but enough to make his breath hitch. His pulse hammered in his ears, a drumbeat to the raw energy flooding his veins. The world blurred, his feet lifting off the ground as though the magic itself was testing his weight. The air crackled around him, charged with power, before the sparks spiraled up and vanished, leaving behind an eerie, weightless calm.

  Aden ran a shaky hand through his hair, dislodging a few lingering sparks that fizzled out before reaching the floor. His skin still hummed with residual energy, like static clinging after a lightning strike. Fantastic. Now he was literally sparking. His breath came in uneven bursts as he flexed his fingers, half-expecting them to glow. Was there a return policy on wizardry? Because this was feeling a little non-refundable.

  “Aden?” Starburner asked slowly. “Why did your eyes turn green?”

  Zanden