The kitchen was quiet. Normally at this hour Paul would be chewing something while talking about trivial things, Lilia would be focused on cooking, and Zenith would secretly roll her eyes at his antics. Today everything was different.
Rudy was asleep.
For the first time in three days, they could talk properly.
Zenith sat at the table, turning a mug in her hands. Paul stood by the window, arms crossed, staring into nothing. Lilia silently poured tea, but her movements were slower than usual.
Zenith's voice broke the silence:
"We can't just leave things as they are. Sooner or later he'll try again. This is no longer just magic."
Paul tapped his fingers on the table, looking at his wife. Thoughts raced through his mind, but he couldn't catch a single one.
"Strange, isn't it? He talks like an adult, his behavior doesn't match his age, yet he acts naturally. He reads as if he already knows everything, understands the world like a grown man... but he's still a child."
"So what?" Paul shrugged. "He's always been smarter than other kids."
Zenith shook her head.
"It's not about talent. It's that he sees and feels things differently from normal children."
Paul rubbed his temples tiredly.
"Maybe we're just overreacting? He's smart, but that doesn't mean he has supernatural abilities."
"Paul, how many five-year-olds do you know who can read grimoires?" Zenith raised a brow. "Or adult mages who awakened a talent for battle magic on their own?"
Paul froze.
"You're... trying to say..."
"He's blessed," Zenith finally said.
Paul choked.
"Blessed? Are you sure?"
"Yes. And it's not a gift. It's a curse."
The kitchen fell silent again.
"He should have died at birth, but he survived," Zenith continued. "You remember that day, don't you? But he lived."
Paul swallowed nervously.
"And you think that..."
"It wasn't a miracle." Zenith sighed. "It was his mark."
Lilia remained silent, but her face showed she was listening.
"A blessing... of a dead god..." Paul muttered, as if hoping the words themselves would prove false.
Zenith looked at him.
"Laplace."
Paul slowly lifted his gaze.
"What?"
"Laplace," she repeated. "The Immortal Emperor. The one destined to destroy the world."
Paul stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor.
"That's nonsense. Laplace is dead. He disappeared four hundred years ago!"
"Right after his death, children with his mark began to appear," Zenith said calmly. "Fragments of his power."
"So what?" Paul waved his hand irritably. "That doesn't mean my son has anything to do with that monster!"
"No, he doesn't." She shook her head. "None of them did. It's just... a trace. But people don't care. They fear them. They kill them."
Paul said nothing.
"Do you understand what this means, Paul? No one must find out. No one."
"If he's exposed..." Paul covered his face with his hands.
"They'll destroy him," Zenith finished.
Lilia finally spoke.
"I'll watch over him," her voice was firm. "He must not fall into the hands of people who could use him..."
A pause hung in the air. Paul stayed silent, only moving his fingers as if he didn't know what to do with them.
"...Lilia?"
Zenith. Her voice trembled. She didn't lift her eyes, as if afraid she wouldn't receive an answer.
"I..." she faltered, exhaled. "Back then... I was harsh. I'm sorry."
"It's all right."
"No," Zenith shook her head, "it's not."
"I understand," Lilia replied calmly. "You have nothing to apologize for."
The silence stretched.
Paul exhaled loudly, lowering his hands.
"We need a teacher," he said. "He must learn to control this."
"Yes... We can't send him to the academy. They'll quickly notice he's not an ordinary child," Zenith added.
"There's only one option left," Paul frowned. "We'll go to Sauros."
Lilia raised a brow but said nothing.
"Duke Boreas?" Zenith clarified.
"Yes. He can help find someone to teach Rudy. We can't send him to the academy, but if we find a private tutor..." Paul clenched his fist. "It's our only chance."
"When will you go?" Zenith asked.
"Now. But first I need to stop by Laws. Let him know I'm leaving."
Zenith nodded quietly. Silence once again filled the kitchen.
***
Paul walked through the village, but his thoughts kept him from focusing on the road. Everything seemed normal: people working, someone fixing a fence, someone carrying water, someone just idling and chatting with a neighbor. But there was a heaviness in the air. Or was he just imagining it?
There were too many questions. How soon would the village start whispering that his son wasn't just a smart boy, but a future mage? What if those rumors reached the wrong ears?
He stopped abruptly. Nonsense. This was a village, not court intrigue. Yes, rumors would spread, but who would take them seriously? The important thing was that people didn't get scared. People driven by fear made stupid decisions.
Paul sighed. Finding a teacher wouldn't be easy. Good mages were worth their weight in gold, and a village wasn't exactly the most popular place for their work. Duke Boreas could help, but would he want to? Sending a request to Sharia would raise too many questions. They needed someone who wouldn't ask too many.
Lost in these thoughts, he didn't notice he'd already reached Laws' house. As usual, the village guards lived on opposite sides of the settlement so they could respond quickly if something happened. Paul stopped at the gate and noticed a familiar figure.
Sylphietta.
She was sitting right on the ground, barefoot, wearing baggy pants tied with a rope and a black shirt clearly too big for her. She had a fish in her hands. She was studying it intently, occasionally poking its side with a finger.
"Hey, Sylphie."
"Mmm?... Oh. Hi, Paul."
"Are you trying to hypnotize the fish?" Paul asked, tilting his head slightly.
"Waiting," the girl answered calmly, without taking her eyes off the fish.
"For what?"
"For it to let itself go."
Paul blinked.
"Is it holding itself?"
"Its soul." She looked at him like he was an idiot.
Paul scratched the back of his head thoughtfully.
"Um… Are you sure a fish has a soul?"
"People aren't sure either." Sylphietta shrugged. "But they believe it."
"At least people talk."
"They do." She poked the fish again. "Just not to you."
"Well, of course. They're waiting for someone smarter." Paul smirked. "So? Do fish talk to you often?"
"No. They mostly stay quiet."
"Convenient."
Sylphietta thought for a moment, still poking the fish.
"There are fishfolk in the east. They're fish. And they talk."
Paul frowned.
"Yes… Probably. Is your father home?"
"Yes. Come on, I'll show you."
Paul watched as Sylphietta squeezed the fish's head. Her fingers twitched slightly and a bone cracked. As if nothing happened, she tossed the fish into a bucket nearby.
"...I thought that fish was your friend."
"Hmm? But it's already dead. The dead don't need friends."
Paul frowned, watching the girl wipe her hand on her baggy pants.
"Is that what you do with all your friends?"
Sylphietta tilted her head, thinking.
"No… Usually they leave on their own."
"Mhm. So if a friend dies, you can just throw them into a bucket?"
She shrugged as if the question didn't matter.
"If he's dead, then it doesn't matter to him."
"And if he's not dead?"
Sylphietta looked up at him with her strangely calm eyes.
"Then he can still say something."
***
Paul stepped into the house and immediately felt the difference. It was warm here, smelling of herbs and wood smoke. Bundles of medicinal plants were drying in the corner, books lined the shelves, and there was a faint scent of stewed meat in the air. Laws' home was always like this—simple but cozy.
At the large table sat the owner himself. As always, focused and serious, sharpening a knife with slow, precise movements. Lya stood nearby, sorting something in a basket of vegetables.
"You're late," Laws said without lifting his eyes.
"You expect too early," Paul flopped into a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "I was just about to head to the tavern, and there you are with your judgment."
Laws raised a brow.
"You haven't been to the tavern for a week."
"See how much I sacrifice," Paul smirked.
Lya stifled a smile and turned to him:
"Tea?"
"Of course. I'm not a barbarian like some people." Paul shot a look at Laws, who still didn't lift his gaze from the knife.
"Strong words for someone who used to eat fried insects in a brothel because he didn't have money for food," Laws said dryly.
"First of all, not insects—grasshoppers. Second, not a brothel—a tavern," Paul huffed. "Third, don't you think you remember a little too much about my youth? Unhealthy interest, friend."
"No. I just like reminding you who you used to be when you start sticking your nose up too high."
Paul folded his arms.
"So when I say my son is a genius, that's considered 'nose in the air'?"
"No. When you say it for the fifth time in one evening—then yes," Lya sighed as she set a cup in front of him.
"But it's true!" Paul took the tea, blew on it, and took a sip. "Did you know Rudy could read at three?"
"YES, PAUL!" Laws and Lya answered in unison.
"You two are no fun..."
Lya shook her head but kept smiling.
"How's your son?" Laws finally asked, setting the knife aside.
Paul shifted in his seat.
"Alive. Sleeping. Still all bandaged, but at least he's not screaming from pain anymore, so I think he's getting better."
Laws nodded slowly.
"If I didn't know you, I'd say you feel guilty."
Paul grimaced.
"And you don't think some of this is your fault?"
"Oh, here we go..." Paul leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not the type to keep my kids under a glass dome. Yes, he overdid it, but at least now he'll understand magic isn't a toy."
"Or he realized it's yet another thing that makes him abnormal," Laws said quietly.
Paul tensed, but Lya spoke up, gently breaking the rising argument:
"You came here for something, Paul?"
He looked at her, sighed, and finally said:
"Yeah. I'll be gone for a while. I'm heading to Sauros."
Lya's ears twitched in surprise.
"To the duke?"
"I want him to help find a teacher for Rudy. We need someone who can teach him to control his talent."
Lya shook her head thoughtfully but stayed silent. Laws, however, frowned deeper.
"That's why I came to warn you. If something happens in the village, you'll be the main defender without me."
"And if you don't come back?"
Paul paused for a moment, then smirked.
"Then buy me a mug at the tavern and say a few kind words."
Lya sighed quietly.
"Sylphie, bring us some tea."
"Okay."
When the girl left, Paul noticed how Laws relaxed slightly. He didn't want to speak in front of his daughter.
"You know..." the elf ran a hand over his face, clearly choosing his words. "The village avoids her."
"I know," Paul snorted.
"You don't understand. They don't just keep their distance. They're afraid of her."
Paul remembered his recent interaction with Sylphietta and raised a brow involuntarily.
"Wonder why? Such a sweet girl..."
"She doesn't act like a child. Even at her age. The other kids sense it."
Paul scratched his chin.
"I saw her tear apart a fish with her bare hands. That's... not exactly what you expect from a five-year-old girl."
Laws nodded.
"She's... different. Toys, games, normal children's fun—none of it interests her. She tried, but lost interest quickly. She didn't find anyone who understood her. And now she doesn't even try."
Paul looked at him more closely.
"And that worries you?"
Laws frowned.
"What parent wouldn't be worried that their daughter is being avoided?" Lya answered for him.
"Yeah, fair enough. You know, my son has similar issues."
"I'm not surprised. Considering what I've heard..."
Paul smirked and folded his arms.
"My son's been a genius since birth. I didn't even have to push him. Did you know he learned to read at three?"
"Seriously? First time I'm hearing this..."
"Then let me—"
"No need for you to tell us anything!" Laws burst out. "My wife is joking..."
Lya quietly set the cups on the table, lowering her gaze.
"Maybe that's for the best," she murmured. "Both of them growing up different from others. Maybe it's even safer that way."
Paul snorted, but then something stirred in his mind. Like a shard of memory he'd subconsciously tried to ignore.
Sylphietta.
Her hair.
That unusual, intensely green color. In his life he'd seen many strange things—mutants, demi-human hybrids, even creatures that shouldn't exist. But hair that shade...
He remembered only two things.
Laplace.
And the cursed berserkers of the Supard race.
The thought stung his mind, making him wince inside. He looked at Laws, who seemed to sense something.
"Listen..." Paul began, not fully sure he should say it. "Sylphietta's... hair is strange."
Silence filled the room.
Lya froze, the cup in her hand stopping midair. Laws slowly lifted his head, his gaze turning tense.
"Don't start," he said. "I already told you. It's a rare mutation. Happens in elves."
"Yeah. That's what you told me last time."
"Then maybe you should check your memory if you keep bringing it up!" Laws' voice hardened.
Paul raised his hands in peace.
"Hey, I just..." He paused, choosing his words. "Just trying to understand."
"Then watch your wording," Laws snapped, no longer hiding his irritation.
"Dear, Paul didn't mean anything bad," Lya said gently, placing her hand over her husband's. "He's just… worried."
At that moment the door opened, and Sylphietta walked in, carrying a small teapot.
"Tea," she said calmly, placing it on the table.
Paul silently watched as Lya smiled warmly and patted her head as if nothing had happened. He was going to say that Rudy might have the same issues as the girl. But... now wasn't the time. Laws clearly wasn't in the mood for this conversation. It seemed he'd already had to fend off such questions before.
Laws looked at Paul carefully, then slowly nodded.
"Your trip to Sauros... If they refuse you?"
Paul grimaced.
"Then we'll look for other options. But I can't just sit and do nothing. If there's even one chance to find a teacher for Rudy, I'm taking it."
Laws nodded shortly.
"Be careful."
Paul smirked.
"Don't worry. It's fine..."
Lya lifted her gaze.
"When are you leaving?"
"Today. The earlier I leave, the sooner I return."
Laws exhaled deeply.
"Good luck."