It started with small things.
A spoon spinning on the table when I was bored. A book dropping from the shelf without being touched. My blanket crawling up over me at night when I forgot to pull it up.
And my parents?
They noticed. Oh, they noticed.
But they pretended not to.
Every time something odd happened, they'd glance at each other with that *look*—you know, the kind parents share when their kid does something weird but might also be gifted.
They never asked me directly. But one day, I overheard my father whispering to my mother:
> "Margaret… do you think he's—? I mean, could he actually have… abilities?"
> "He's special, Charles. You've seen it. He's not like other kids."
He paused. Then, in a low voice filled with a weight I didn't understand yet:
> "I'll write to my father."
---
Turns out, my grandfather was still alive.
And apparently, my father hadn't spoken to him in years.
That night, I saw him scribble a letter by candlelight, hands trembling slightly. He sealed it with red wax, stamped it with a strange insignia I hadn't seen before.
---
Days passed.
Then, the knock.
*Tap. Tap. Tap.*
My father opened the door.
Standing there in a long grey coat, boots dusty from travel, was a man with sharp eyes, snow-white hair tied behind in a warrior's knot, and a cane that somehow didn't look like it was for walking.
> "Hello, Charles," the old man said. "I came as soon as I received your letter."
> "Father…" my dad breathed.
---
They spoke in the study for over an hour. I only caught bits and pieces.
Words like:
> "Awakening…"
> "First time in the bloodline since—"
> "I thought I was the squib…"
That word stuck with me.
Squib?
Sounded made-up. Or… from a different world.
When they came out, Grandpa looked at me like he was scanning my soul.
He asked a few questions. Nothing probing. Just… observing.
Then, he smiled.
> "You'll do just fine, lad."
---
That evening, I overheard the conversation that changed everything.
My father, pacing in the hall.
> "You knew I never awakened anything. You never told me I was from a magical family!"
> "Because you never needed to know," Grandpa replied calmly. "You had no magic. What was the point in dragging you into a war you couldn't fight?"
> "So you sent me away."
> "To protect you."
> "And now… my son's awakened it."
> "It skips generations sometimes. You know the stories."
There was silence.
Then:
> "So what now?"
> "Now?" Grandpa chuckled. "Now we *teach*."
---
The next morning, the truth came out.
They sat me down.
And my grandfather told me everything.
> "We come from an old magical family, Eliot. Magic runs in the blood, but not everyone has the gift."
> "Your father didn't. But you? You've got the spark."
I blinked.
> "Magic? Not… superpowers?"
They exchanged glances.
> "You thought you were a superhero?" my dad asked, almost laughing.
> "I mean… yeah. Telekinesis. Energy surges. Emotional catalysts. Sounded more like metahuman evolution than—"
> "—Than magic?" Grandpa asked.
My eyes widened.
> "Wait. That's… that's real?"
> "Not exactly," he said. "But closer than you think. The books were fiction. But inspired. There was a time magic ruled openly. Before the Dark Lord rose."
---
And then he told me about the war.
The *real* war.
A shadow spreading across magical Europe.
Wizards disappearing. Families torn apart. A dark order—followers of an ancient bloodline supremacist—ravaging the magical world.
> "We stayed out of it," Grandpa said. "Your father, being a squib… had no stake. But now…"
He looked at me.
> "You're in this, whether you like it or not."
---
I didn't believe him.
Until he raised his cane, muttered something in Latin, and *vanished* in front of my eyes—reappearing behind me with a grin.
Then he conjured fire in his palm.
Then levitated the table.
I was stunned. Speechless.
All my assumptions, all my internal logic systems… fried.
> "So it's not a superpower," I muttered.
> "It's *older*," he said. "And more dangerous."
> "And I have it."
> "You do."
---
That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Magic.
Not metahuman ability. Not psionic evolution. Not X-gene or neural amplification.
*Magic.*
> "Alright," I whispered.
> "Let's learn how to bend reality."