The first time Kale's magic slipped, it was because of a stray cat.
He was hurrying home through the drizzle, his hood pulled up, the evening light dim and heavy with the smell of rain. The neighborhood looked ordinary — too ordinary for what he really was. Every streetlamp hummed faintly, a pulse of light flickering as he passed beneath.
When he saw the cat dart into the road, he didn't think. His hand shot out on instinct.
Something inside him surged — blue and raw and alive.
The cat froze mid-step. The puddles rippled outward like something had exhaled from the center of the world. For a heartbeat, time itself trembled — and then the creature floated three inches above the wet asphalt, suspended in pale blue light.
Kale's chest constricted.
"Not again…"
A sharp hiss cut through the air — the metal device on his wrist flashing red. The light shattered. The cat dropped, yowled, and bolted into the dark.
Kale stumbled back, pressing his palm against the cuff until the faint hum inside it died down. He could still feel the warmth of the mana crawling under his skin, restless and dangerous, like a secret begging to be freed.
If anyone had seen that—
He looked around. Empty street. Rain. Only the echo of his own breath.
Still, his father's voice filled his mind.
"Never draw attention to yourself, Kale. Not even once. The world you came from never forgets."
He tightened his hood and walked faster.
The glow beneath his wrist faded completely, replaced by the mechanical click of the device resetting itself. On the surface, it looked like nothing more than a silver wristband — something a science fair student might build. But Kale knew better. The thing wasn't just technology; it was survival.
When he reached home, the lights were still on. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray her nerves. His father's workshop door was closed, the sound of tools faint behind it.
Kale hesitated at the door. The scent of solder and ozone always reminded him of the nights his father stayed awake perfecting that device — the invention that kept Kale's heart beating another day.
He touched the band again, feeling the faint buzz beneath the surface.
If it ever failed completely, the witches would find him.
He didn't know how, but he could feel it — like a thread tugging from another world, a presence just waiting for him to make one mistake.
And somewhere far away, beyond the veil of the human world, something did stir.
A pulse of energy answered his slip — faint but distinct. The witches felt it.
A girl cloaked in black lifted her head from the depths of a glowing mirror.
"He's alive," she whispered.
"The cursed child still breathes."