John stepped out of the training chamber with a faint ache still lingering beneath his skin.
The underground air felt heavier than usual, or perhaps that was just his body—adjusting, recalibrating, learning what it meant to hold magic for the first time. The mana inside him was calm now, distant but present, like a coiled thread waiting to be pulled.
"I'm going to meet Luke," John said casually, glancing back toward his parents.
Cassian studied him for a brief moment longer than necessary, as if memorizing the way John stood now—just a little straighter than before. Lara noticed it too.
"Don't overdo it today," she said, smoothing his hair down instinctively. "And eat properly."
John nodded. "I will."
He had barely taken three steps down the corridor when a small pair of hands latched onto his sleeve.
"Where are you going?"
John sighed, already knowing the answer.
Thalia looked up at him with wide, insistent eyes, golden hair bouncing slightly as she leaned forward. "You said you were going out. That means I'm coming too."
"No, it doesn't," John replied calmly.
"Yes it does," she said immediately. "Because you always come back late and bring snacks".
"That was one time."
John closed his eyes for a brief second.
"…Fine," he said. "But you behave."
Thalia beamed. "I always behave."
That was demonstrably false, but John didn't argue.
The restaurant sat near the eastern side of the Tolkien district—a quiet place with tall windows, warm lighting, and the kind of atmosphere people chose when they wanted to be left alone.
Luke was already there.
He sat at a table by the window, sunlight spilling across the surface of polished wood. His silver-white hair caught the light easily, almost glowing against the clear blue sky outside. A thin pair of glasses rested on his nose, framing sharp blue eyes focused intently on the notebook spread open before him.
He was writing.
John slowed his steps.
Luke always looked like this when he was thinking—still, absorbed, detached from the world around him. His pen moved steadily, deliberate strokes forming lines of thought only he seemed to understand.
Thalia tugged on John's sleeve. "Is that him?"
"Yes," John murmured. "Don't say anything."
Before Luke could sense them, John stepped closer—silent, precise—and reached out.
In one smooth motion, he lifted the notebook straight off the table.
Luke blinked.
Then his eyes widened.
"Hey—"
John had already taken two steps back, flipping the page open with casual interest.
Hypothesis: If magic is not merely energy, but intent given structure, then—
John raised an eyebrow. "You're still writing theories during lunch?"
Luke turned fully in his seat now, annoyance flickering across his otherwise composed face. "Give that back."
John skimmed another line. "—the failure lies not in power, but in the vessel's comprehension. Huh."
Luke stood. "John."
"This is actually decent," John said thoughtfully. "Still messy, though. You jump conclusions too fast."
Luke reached for the notebook, but John lifted it just out of reach.
Thalia peered up at the pages, squinting. "These are a lot of words."
Luke froze.
"…Why is there a child here?"
"She insisted," John replied. "Also, she steals fries."
Thalia waved cheerfully. "Hi! I'm Thalia. Brother says you're weird."
Luke stared at her for a moment.
Then he sighed and rubbed his forehead. "That's not wrong."
John finally handed the notebook back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Relax. I didn't read the important parts."
Luke eyed him suspiciously. "There are no unimportant parts."
"That's what you think."
They sat down—John across from Luke, Thalia wedged comfortably between them like she belonged there.
Luke studied John more closely now, his gaze sharpening.
"…Something's different," he said quietly.
John paused, fingers tightening slightly around his glass.
"Is it that obvious?"
Luke nodded once. "Your presence. It's… clearer."
Thalia blinked between them. "What are you talking about?"
"Adult things," John and Luke said in unison.
She pouted.
Luke leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable. "So they finally did it."
"Partially," John replied. "Enough to work with."
Luke's eyes flicked downward for a split second—calculating, already rearranging possibilities.
"That changes things," he said.
John met his gaze.
"Yes," he agreed. "It does."
Outside, the sunlight remained warm and gentle.
Inside the quiet restaurant, two boys sat across from each other—one newly awakened to power, the other already planning how to reshape the world around it.
And between them, Thalia happily reached across the table and stole Luke's fries.
Luke noticed.
"…I take back what I said," he muttered. "This one is dangerous."
John smiled faintly.