Here is Chapter Four, continuing the tone and progression of James's early development—still in early childhood, but now drifting closer to the beginnings of magical sensitivity and subtle change in his surroundings.
By the time James could walk without stumbling and speak without hesitation, the servants stopped treating him like a baby.
Not because they saw him as gifted—only because they no longer knew how to place him.
He was too young to work, too strange to ignore, and too silent to provoke.
Mira still tended to him, but with a wary respect now. She spoke to him more, though he seldom answered unless his response held purpose.
Winter settled over House Reed like a final warning. Drafts slipped through cracked windows. The fires burned low to conserve wood. The servants layered clothing instead of complaining.
James watched everything.
One evening, while Mira prepared weak stew near the kitchen hearth, he sat beside the wall, legs crossed, back straight. He didn't fidget or sway the way other children did. He simply… waited.
Someone else entered the room.
Not a servant. Not Mira.
Cedric.
He was older now—six, perhaps seven—and carried himself with the unearned certainty of someone told all his life that he mattered more than others.
His eyes found James first. A flicker of disdain crossed his face.
"You shouldn't be here," Cedric said, voice lofty despite the chill.
James looked at him calmly. "Why?"
Cedric paused, as though the question itself was an insult. "Because this is the servants' hall."
"I live here."
Cedric's lips curled slightly. "You exist here."
Mira stepped between them before James could reply. "Young master Cedric, is there something you need?"
Cedric ignored her. "He should be kept out of sight."
Mira did not argue aloud. She simply lowered her eyes in obedience. Cedric turned and left with the confidence of someone whose wishes were often orders.
When he was gone, Mira let out a breath. "You mustn't speak to him like that, James. Not directly."
James looked up at her. "Should I lie?"
She hesitated. "You should be careful."
Noted: social hierarchy enforcement confirmed. Hostility probability escalating.
That night, James couldn't sleep. Not from fear—only from awareness.
Something tugged at his senses. Faint. Subtle. Like a hum beneath silence.
He sat up in the darkness, small frame wrapped in a thin blanket.
Detection: anomalous energy fluctuation nearby. Classification: arcane resonance.
He didn't fully understand, but instinct and the AI both urged him to focus.
There was no light, but he "felt" something occupying space differently—like air bending without moving. A shimmer without color.
James reached out a hand.
Not physically—mentally.
For just a heartbeat, the world around him stretched. Space itself felt… pliable. Like a thread pulled taut and released in the same breath.
It vanished as suddenly as it came.
James blinked, then lay back down slowly.
Preliminary affinity resonance detected. Category: Esoteric. Subclassification: Spatial/Mental overlap.
No one else in House Reed felt anything that night.
But James did.
And though he lacked words for it, he understood one thing with absolute certainty:
The world was not as fixed or distant as others believed.
It could be bent.
It could be shaped.
And someday, it would bend for him.