Daniel Edgar was accustomed to command. His word was law in boardrooms, his nod could move markets, and his disapproval could freeze the blood of even the bravest men. But now, facing his five-year-old grandson, he found himself in unfamiliar territory: that of a master who had been surpassed by his pupil. The feeling was both exasperating and profoundly proud.
He considered his options, seated in his leather armchair in the study, his fingers drumming on the polished surface of the desk. And the stark truth was that his options were almost nonexistent. Noah wasn't just a prodigy; he was a phenomenon.
In less than a year since his abilities had begun to manifest so explosively, the boy had deconstructed, analyzed, and internalized the fundamentals of being a Seer at a speed that bordered on the absurd. The library, once Daniel's realm, had become Noah's personal playground. He didn't read the books; he devoured them, and his flawless memory ensured that no fragment of knowledge was lost.
Daniel had grotesquely underestimated the boy's innate intelligence and talent. Deep down, he had expected a period of adjustment, of confusion, perhaps even of fear—something that would give Daniel the opportunity to guide him, to be the beacon in a supernatural storm. Instead, Noah navigated the turbulent waters of spirituality with the skill of a captain born at sea. He didn't need a beacon; he was becoming one.
And that was the crux of the problem. Daniel's knowledge of Seers was limited. His vast library, a collection that was the envy of many occultists, had its limits. It was a historical archive, a compilation of second-hand theories and accounts. It did not contain, nor could it contain, the absolute knowledge and practical nuances, the intimate dangers and advanced techniques that only an experienced Seer could impart. Who, after all, would possess such absolute knowledge?
It was then that the solution, audacious and somewhat desperate, arose in his mind. If he couldn't provide the knowledge, he would need to provide access to it. And that meant sending Noah abroad, away from the controlled safety of the mansion, and placing him in the hands of an instructor whose abilities he could not doubt.
Morticia Addams.
The name echoed in his thoughts like a solemn bell. The daughter of an old... friend was a strong term, perhaps "ally of convenience" or "respected contact" was more appropriate. The Addams family was a legend among Pariahs, a family as eccentric as they were powerful, who embraced the strange and supernatural with an unshakable, macabre enthusiasm.
And Morticia, in particular, was remarkable. She was strong, her spirituality a deep and calm river. She was skilled, with a mastery over the Divination Arts that was both intuitive and academically precise. And, most importantly, she was an excellent Seer, one of the most promising of her generation. She lived and breathed the world Noah was now entering.
'No one better,' Daniel concluded with final resolve, 'Could teach the things I cannot.'
...
Mastery over the Door ability wasn't just a practical achievement; it was a key that unlocked a new level in his journey as a Beyonder. As a reward for his deep understanding, the Gray Mist materialized a new paper for him. It was a déjà vu, an echo of the revelation he had about the Path of the Fool.
His progress was tangible, a methodical climb through sequences he was beginning to understand.
On the Path of the Fool, he had already transcended the initial stage. Sequence 9: Seer had been a foundation, but Sequence 8: Clown was an evolution. The role wasn't about comedy, but about deceiving expectations. His Seer abilities had refined themselves, becoming sharper and less passive. His danger perception was more subtle, his spiritual sight, more penetrating. Furthermore, a subtle physical enhancement permeated him—his reflexes were faster, his movements more agile, like an acrobat's. And the most concrete transformation: he could make the Paper solidify in his hands into Daggers as hard and sharp as steel.
On the Path of the Door, the progression was parallel. After mastering Sequence 9: Apprentice, he ascended to Sequence 8: Trickmaster. And the name was literal. His mind was flooded with an immense arsenal of tricks that went far beyond simply passing through walls.
However, the Path of the Error remained a silent shadow in his growth. While the other two flourished, this one remained stagnant. Sequence 9: Marauder seemed like a dead end within the safe, orderly confines of the mansion.
It was through a deep study of his own advancement experiences that Noah perceived the pattern. Progression wasn't automatic; it was triggered by enactment. Each Path required him to embody its fundamental principles genuinely and consistently.
As a Seer, his ascension to Clown didn't come merely from using his abilities, but from the way he used them. He held spiritual sessions, not for gain or fame, but to help others – household staff with persistent nightmares, a gardener who had lost a loved one. He helped them interpret confusing revelations and guided them toward inner peace, a better path. And, crucially, he did so constantly maintaining fear and respect for fate. He was never dogmatic, always reminding himself and others that Divination was not all-powerful. He fought against selfishness, pride, and blind belief in his own interpretations.
As an Apprentice, becoming a Trickmaster required humility. He did not flaunt superiority over the servants or tutors. He was not arrogant with his growing knowledge. On the contrary, he understood the insignificance of his own strength before the vast ocean of supernatural knowledge. He accepted guidance (even if limited) from his grandfather and the books, and concentrated on his studies with the discipline of a monk.
These acts, this philosophy in practice, were the steps that led him to Clown and Trickmaster.
The silence of Noah's room was broken only by the soft whisper of a book's pages he was reading without touching it, floating a few inches from his nose. The concentration on his face was absolute, a cloak of serenity hiding the storm of power and knowledge boiling within him. It was then that an external sound pierced his focus bubble: a faint noise at the door, followed by the deep, familiar voice of his grandfather.
"Noah."
The voice wasn't an urgent call, but it carried a solemnity that made the boy immediately lower his mental guard. Without even looking at the door, Noah raised an index finger in a casual, almost negligent gesture. There was no sound of a doorknob turning, nor of hardware moving. Instead, the heavy oak door simply opened, sliding smoothly on its hinges as if propelled by an invisible, silent hand. It was a casual, almost instinctive use of the principle of the Path of the Door—the door wasn't opened; the idea that it was closed was simply revoked.
"Yes, Grandfather?" Noah asked, finally turning to face the visitor. His eyes, now bearing those contrasting colors that so intrigued Daniel, settled on the man at his door.
Daniel Edgar remained on the threshold, not daring, for a moment, to enter that space he now felt so deeply imbued with his grandson's essence. He looked at the boy—not at the five-year-old child, but at the complex entity he had become.
And he felt.
An immense Spirituality emanated from Noah, not as a chaotic explosion like the first time, but as a calm, constant force field, a deep and serene ocean whose currents he could barely begin to imagine. It was a weight in the air, a density that made the environment both sacred and slightly oppressive.
A sigh deep and laden with conflicting emotions escaped Daniel's lips. It was a sound of resignation, of pride, and a pang of loss. He was about to relinquish control, to release the rare bird he had raised in captivity so it could learn to fly in more dangerous skies.
"In one year," Daniel began, his voice firm but with a rare vulnerability, "you will go to the United States. You will be under the care of the daughter of an old friend." He paused, allowing the words to echo. "She... she will teach you to be a real Seer."
Noah kept his face impassive, but behind that facade, his mind worked rapidly. The news wasn't a complete surprise; he felt the limits of what he could learn within that mansion. He had already surpassed the Seer stage, ascending to Clown. The knowledge of a common Seer, no matter how skilled this woman might be, might no longer be the main attraction.
The true potential, he realized instantly, lay elsewhere. The United States. A new country, a new continent, a new culture. A place full of opportunities... and errors.
It was the perfect training ground, the blank canvas where he could, finally, begin to sketch the first strokes of the Path of the Error. Sequence 9: Marauder cried out for action, not for study. And that trip was the answer.
Furthermore, a trip abroad, away from British formality and constant surveillance, sounded... fun.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Noah's lips.
"Alright, Grandfather," he replied, his voice as calm as the surface of a lake. "I look forward to... learning."