Hey, folks. Chris Reynolds here again, and, uh… I think I might actually be in trouble this time.
Remember how I said I was starting to lose control? Well, turns out, that was optimistic. Because now, it's not just weird magic bursts or glowing eyes—it's worse.
Let's start with last night. After my little mana burnout session, I tried to get some rest, but, surprise! My body had other plans. The second I shut my eyes, I felt like I was falling. Not in the normal dreamlike way—no, this was real. I felt the wind rushing past me, the weightlessness in my stomach, the sheer terror of plummeting into nothingness. And then, just when I thought I was about to hit the ground—
I woke up.
Or at least, I thought I did.
I was standing. In my room. In front of my mirror. But something was off. My reflection… wasn't moving.
It was watching me.
The glow in my eyes was stronger than before, swirling like embers in a fire. And then? My reflection spoke.
"You're running out of time, Chris."
I have never bolted out of a room faster in my life.
But here's the thing—when I scrambled out and nearly tripped over Star (who was already awake, by the way), the room behind me? Completely normal. Candles still burned low. Mirror? Just a regular, non-creepy, not-talking mirror. So either I was officially losing my mind, or… something else was at play.
(Yeah. Probably something else. Because of course it is.)
Magic Meltdown: I'm Starting to Glow in My Sleep Now
So, after that little episode, I figured I'd at least try to get a few hours of rest before training. Hah. Wishful thinking. Because the moment I actually fell asleep?
I woke up to Star screaming.
And before you ask—yes, rabbits can scream. And it is horrifying.
I shot up so fast I nearly knocked him off the bed, and that's when I saw it—my hands. They were crackling. Blue energy ran up my arms, pulsing like veins of lightning beneath my skin. And the air? Charged. Like the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for something to explode.
And then—BAM.
The energy surged outward, knocking over books, sending my spell scrolls flying, and snuffing out every candle in an instant. The whole room plunged into darkness, except for one thing.
Me.
I was still glowing.
It took me hours to calm down, and even longer for the charge in the air to settle. But the real kicker? I could still feel it. The magic. Sitting there, just beneath my skin.
Waiting.
The Training Disaster (Because Of Course There's One)
So, after surviving yet another mystical horror show, I dragged myself to morning training, running on exactly zero sleep and an energy level best described as "a half-dead squirrel running on caffeine." Not great.
But you know what's really not great? Apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed.
The second I picked up my sword, Dad narrowed his eyes. "You're shaking."
Yeah. No kidding. But before I could brush it off, we started drills, and that's when things went downhill. Fast.
Every strike felt like a detonation. Too much force. Too much speed. My body moved before I could think, and when Dad parried one of my swings, I nearly lost grip of the blade because of the shockwave that followed.
And that's when he stopped. Just looked at me.
"Chris." His voice was steady, but his eyes were sharp. "What's going on?"
And here's the thing—I could've lied. I could've brushed it off, made some excuse, said I was just tired. But I didn't.
Because I saw it, too.
The way the sword hummed in my grip, like it was vibrating with raw magic. The way the air shivered around me, like reality itself was trying to compensate for whatever the hell was happening inside me.
So instead, I did the only thing I could do.
I lowered my sword. Took a breath. And said, "I think something's wrong with me."
Dad was quiet for a moment. Then he exhaled, slow and measured. "I was afraid of that."
…Wait. Afraid of that?
Excuse me—WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, EXACTLY?!
And Now There's a Mysterious Letter Because Why Not
As if my life wasn't already spiraling into some kind of magical catastrophe, guess what showed up this morning?
A letter.
A sealed letter. In dark blue wax. With a sigil I didn't recognize.
And no sender.
Star would not stop sniffing it. And when I finally cracked the seal? The air around me shifted.
Like the world was holding its breath.
And all it said was:
"The storm is coming. You must be ready."
Yeah. Nope. I'm officially done.
Anyway, that's all I've got for now. If anyone has any tips on not imploding from magical overload, hit me up. Because at this rate, I'm either gonna explode or accidentally rip a hole in reality.
Wish me luck.
Stay safe. Stay magical. And, for the love of mana, someone PLEASE tell me what the hell is happening to me.
Catch you later.