The next day unfolded like any other— until evening, when the small house filled with an unusual sense of excitement.
Dusk and Dawn sat cross-legged on the floor, their red eyes shining with anticipation.
Beside them, Hoot wore a tiny black tie and a lopsided hat that made him look more like a scholar than an owl.
"Silence!" Hoot screeched dramatically, flapping his wings. "The teacher has arrived!"
"You're the only one shouting," Dawn giggled.
"Mr. Lock!" Dusk smiled brightly.
Lock stepped in, monocle gleaming in the candlelight. "From now on," he said with mock seriousness, "call me Teacher."
Dusk and Dawn nodded at once, straightening their backs like little soldiers.
"Good," Lock said, settling cross-legged in front of them. "Now— what do you two know about magic?"
"It's cool!" Dawn said, raising her hand with confidence.
"The Church burns people who use it," Dusk added bluntly.
Lock blinked twice. "Ah… excellent balance between curiosity and caution." He smiled faintly. "Then let's start from the very beginning."
He clapped his hands, and faint blue light shimmered into the shape of a spinning globe above them. Tiny fire, wind, and water symbols floated around it.
"A long time ago," he began, "before the Radiant Church ruled this land, the world was filled with magic. Great Empires thrived on it — they built flying citadels, summoned storms, and even bent the stars."
Dawn's eyes widened. "Flying castles?!"
"Yes," Lock chuckled. "Though, most of them fell—quite literally. Then came the Church. They called this continent the Divine Region, and began hunting those who used magic. Wizards, witches, all burned in their light."
The glowing globe dimmed and turned gold. A symbol of the Radiant Church hovered above it.
"Why does the Church hate magic?" Dawn asked, frowning. "Are they evil? Are you evil?"
Lock raised an eyebrow, smiling. "For your last question—evil depends on who's telling the story. And as for the first… the answer lies in Source."
"Source?" both siblings echoed.
Lock traced two symbols in the air — one glowing white, one faintly blue.
"The Church's knights draw power from Divinity. Sorcerers draw from Mana. Two different rivers flowing through the same world."
"What's the difference?" Dusk asked.
"Divinity," Lock explained, "is said to come from the Radiant God himself. It shines pure and unwavering—faith fuels it. Mana, however…" He held out his palm, and a faint spark of blue fire appeared, dancing like a tiny spirit. "Mana is everywhere. In the air, the ground, the ocean… even inside us."
Dawn reached toward the flame, her fingers brushing through it like mist. "It feels warm."
"Indeed. Warm, but dangerous to those who don't respect it," Lock said, closing his hand and snuffing it out. "Now, in the past, people believed magic came from the four elements—earth, fire, wind, and water. Later, others discovered light, darkness, and even necromancy."
"Necro... what?" Dusk asked.
"It's magic of death," Hoot whispered dramatically.
"Don't scare them," Lock sighed. "Anyway, sorcerers once could even summon creatures from other realms. But before one becomes a true sorcerer, they must first learn pseudo magic— simple tricks that use symbols and reagents instead of real spells."
As he spoke, the light above them shaped into tiny glowing symbols that moved and rearranged. Dusk's eyes followed them, fascinated.
"So... like this?" Dawn traced one in the air. To their surprise, a small puff of light flickered before vanishing.
Lock chuckled. "Precisely. That's pseudo magic spell."
He leaned closer, his tone softening. "The moment you start learning about magic, you become an apprentice. Meditation strengthens your spirit. Knowledge builds your first circle of power. Those who succeed—become true sorcerers."
The siblings listened intently. The lesson was no longer dull theory; it felt alive—like a secret being whispered to them by the universe itself.
Lock smiled, tapping a small leather-bound notebook beside him. "Everything I've told you—and more—is written here. But the only way to read it is to first finish your reading and writing lessons."
Dawn pouted. "You're giving us homework?"
"Think of it as a treasure map," Lock said with a wink.
Even Hoot nodded sagely. "The treasure is knowledge."
"Also," Lock added, his tone turning serious, "if you ever learn real magic, remember this: the Church can sense a sorcerer. Before you use power, learn to hide it. I've left a few hints in the notes—it's a test, of sorts."
Dusk nodded firmly. "I'll remember, Teacher."
Dawn smiled brightly. "Me too!"
---
Later That Night
The smell of roasted chicken filled the room. Hoot munched noisily on his plate while the two siblings leaned against each other at the table, both fast asleep.
Lock watched them quietly, the candlelight soft against his face. For a long while, he didn't move — only the ticking of a clock and Hoot's muffled crunches broke the silence.
Finally, he turned back to his desk.
A half-written letter waited there. Lock read over it once before folding it neatly. His expression was calm — but distant, touched with a sadness he didn't show.
He sealed it with wax and whispered,
"It's about time I move again."
Outside, the wind stirred, rustling the curtains.
"Leaving again, aren't we?" Hoot murmured from the table.
Lock smiled faintly. "Every story has an ending."
"Are we not going to say goodbye?" the owl asked softly.
Lock looked at the sleeping siblings and shook his head.
"Not every farewell needs words. This one's only temporary. If they follow the path of magic… we'll meet again."
He brushed the boy's hair gently, then the girl's.
"This chapter may be closing, but the thread remains."
---
The Next Morning
Dusk woke first. "Teacher?" he called, rubbing his eyes.
No reply.
"Hoot?" Dawn added, yawning.
Still silence.
On the desk lay a letter, the books Lock had given them, and a single sealed document.
When Dusk touched the letter, soft light blossomed— golden butterflies unfurled from the paper, fluttering through the air like sparks of sunlight.
"Wow..." the siblings whispered together.
They smiled, reaching out as the butterflies faded into warmth and light — but tears rolled down their cheeks.
Because even without words, they knew.
They were gone.
┉┈ ◈ ◉ ◈ ┈┉
End of Volume One : Beginning of Threads