It felt warm. Not hot, not magical in the dramatic sense, just comfortably warm, like it belonged in my hands. When I opened it, I expected old family records or boring noble history. Instead, I found pages filled with symbols and notes, all centered around one element: wind.
Some of the spells looked complicated, layered with runes and diagrams. Others were so simple, it felt like they were meant for children. My eyes stopped on a page that showed a basic wind technique. The runes were clean, minimal. I didn't recognize the language fully, but I understood it, like it was being whispered directly into my head.
Without thinking, I pointed my hand at the far wall.
No incantation. No drawing of magic circles or summoning staff. Just a breath and a thought.
Wind exploded from my palm in a sharp blast, fast and violent. The air cracked as it slammed into the stone wall across the room and tore a hole clean through it. Not a crack. Not a dent. A full hole, the size of a shield, blown out into the courtyard beyond. Sunlight spilled in through the dust, and everything inside the room had scattered, the chair overturned, papers flying, even a painting knocked from the wall.
I stared at my hand in stunned silence, then back at the damage.
That… worked?
Footsteps thundered down the hall before I had time to hide anything. The door burst open, and my mother rushed in, eyes wide. Her gaze darted from me to the hole, then down to the grimoire still clutched in my hands.
She didn't say anything at first. Just stood there blinking, trying to process the scene.
"Eris…?"
"I didn't know- I didn't think that would-" Eris let out a sigh, thinking consequence was sure to come. "I never knew it would have been that powerful.
She walked over to the wall and crouched beside the blasted opening. Running her fingers along the cracked stone, she shook her head slightly. "Was that. How. What just happened", I could feel the confusion in her, the worriedness.
I didn't say anything. My heart was still pounding.
She turned back to me, slowly, as if seeing me differently. "Where did you find that book?"
"It was just… there," I muttered. "Under my bed."
Her expression tightened for a moment, but she said nothing. Instead, she walked over and gently closed the book in my hands, then looked at me closely.
"You're seven so how did you manage to do all of that", she said.
"I didn't know it would be that strong," I admitted.
There was a pause. Not tense, but thoughtful. She wasn't angry. She was studying me—trying to figure out what just happened.
Finally, she gave a faint smile. "Your father's going to have a heart attack."
"Am I in trouble?"
"No," she said, taking the grimoire from my hands and handing it back after a second. "Don't tell nobody about this alright, it will be for your own safety."
She turned and left without another word.
I stood alone for a while, staring at the gaping hole. The wind outside rolled through gently, brushing against my face like it recognized me.
I'd only cast one spell, and yet it felt like something had changed. Something old had woken up.
And I had no idea what that meant yet.