The problem with discovering something extraordinary was that it became remarkably difficult to think about anything else.
For the past several days, I had been attempting to recreate the strange sensation I'd experienced while meditating. Every evening, I sat on my bed, closed my eyes, and concentrated on the hollow feeling within my chest.
My efforts had produced three headaches, two accidental naps, and absolutely nothing resembling magic.
I was beginning to suspect that my greatest talent was wasting time.
"Lucien, are you listening?"
I looked up.
Evelyne stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. Her dark brown hair was tied into a ponytail, and she wore the sort of expression Mother usually reserved for Father when he forgot something important.
"Yes," I answered.
"Then what did I say?"
I considered my options.
"Magic?"
She narrowed her eyes.
"You weren't listening!"
An unfortunate consequence of having an older sister was that she knew me far too well.
"I said we're going into town today! Father promised!"
That caught my attention.
"Where?"
"The magic shop!"
I immediately stood.
Evelyne grinned triumphantly. "See? You should listen to me more often."
I decided not to encourage her.
Bellhaven's commercial district was considerably busier than the quiet residential streets surrounding our home.
Merchants shouted advertisements from beneath striped awnings, carriages rattled over cobblestones, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby bakery. Above the street, glass lamps hung from curved iron posts, their Aether crystals glowing faintly despite the afternoon sunlight.
I walked between Father and Evelyne, occasionally stopping to examine something interesting.
A mechanical bird perched outside a clockmaker's shop, flapping brass wings while announcing the hour. Nearby, a woman demonstrated a cleaning device that sent small brushes scurrying across a table without anyone touching them.
Magic, it seemed, had made household chores considerably more entertaining.
"Stay close, Lucien," Father reminded me.
I hurried after him.
Evelyne was practically bouncing with excitement.
"Father, will they have training stones?"
"Most likely."
"And practice rings?"
"Probably."
"What about a lightning staff?"
"Absolutely not."
"But—"
"You're six."
"I'll be seven eventually!"
"An excellent observation. You can ask me again when you're older."
I covered my mouth to hide a laugh.
Evelyne noticed.
"Don't laugh!"
"Sorry."
I wasn't particularly sorry.
We turned onto a narrower street where the shops displayed fewer ordinary goods and considerably more enchanted equipment. Crystals of different colours rested behind glass windows, and intricate metallic devices rotated slowly on velvet cushions.
One establishment immediately caught my attention.
A wooden sign above its entrance read:
MARLOWE'S AETHERWORKS
Beneath the lettering, a smaller inscription advertised crystals, training equipment, repairs, and certified magical instruments.
Father pushed open the door.
A small bell chimed overhead.
"Welcome!" a voice called from somewhere behind the counter. "I'll be with you in a moment!"
The shop was larger than it appeared from outside. Shelves lined the walls, holding everything from polished stones to mechanical devices whose purposes I couldn't begin to guess.
A glass cabinet displayed several crystal spheres, each containing a faintly glowing substance.
I stared at them.
Aether.
Even without concentrating, I could almost sense something moving within the crystals.
The sensation was subtle, like noticing a distant sound that disappeared whenever I tried listening closely.
"Adrian?"
A broad-shouldered man emerged from the back room, wiping his hands with a cloth. He had a thick brown beard, a leather apron, and several pairs of spectacles hanging from his collar.
"Well, I'll be damned. Haven't seen you in weeks."
"Good afternoon, Garrick."
The two men shook hands.
Garrick glanced at Evelyne, then at me.
"And these must be your little troublemakers."
"I'm not a troublemaker!" Evelyne protested.
Garrick laughed.
"Then you must take after your mother."
Father sighed. "I was hoping you'd forgotten that joke."
"Not a chance."
Apparently, Father had a reputation I wasn't aware of.
Garrick crouched slightly to look at me.
"And who's this young fellow?"
"Lucien," Father replied. "My youngest."
"Not for much longer, from what I've heard."
Father smiled. "News travels quickly."
"Especially good news."
Garrick straightened and turned towards Evelyne.
"Now, I hear someone's started producing lightning."
Evelyne's face lit up.
"That's me!"
"Is that so? Show me."
She immediately raised her hand.
Father caught her wrist before she could begin.
"Not inside the shop."
Garrick burst into laughter.
"Wise man."
We spent the next half hour examining equipment.
Evelyne received a pair of simple training rings made from dark metal. According to Garrick, they helped beginners maintain a steady flow of Aether by providing a small amount of resistance.
"They won't make your magic stronger," he explained. "But they'll help you notice when you're releasing too much."
Evelyne slipped them onto her fingers.
"Can I try?"
"Outside," Father and Garrick answered together.
She looked personally betrayed.
While they discussed the price, I wandered towards a nearby display.
Several crystals rested inside shallow wooden compartments, each labelled according to its purity and intended use.
Most were pale blue, although a few possessed green or violet hues.
One compartment contained smaller, duller crystals.
Depleted — Salvage Only.
I examined them curiously.
Unlike the others, these crystals possessed almost no visible glow.
One was completely colourless.
It reminded me of the lamp crystal I'd accidentally drained.
I reached towards it.
"Careful there, little fellow."
Garrick's voice startled me.
I withdrew my hand.
He approached with an amused expression.
"Interested in crystals, are you?"
I nodded.
"What's that?"
"That?" He picked up the colourless crystal. "An exhausted Aether crystal. Nothing particularly exciting."
"Exhausted?"
"Means there's no useful energy left inside."
He held it towards the window.
Sunlight passed through its cloudy surface.
"Most crystals can be recharged a few times, depending on their quality. Eventually, though, the internal structure wears down. Once that happens, they're little more than pretty stones."
I looked at the other crystals.
"Those?"
"Still have a little Aether left. Not enough for proper machinery, but useful for testing instruments."
He returned the colourless crystal to its compartment.
"Your father's always bringing me broken equipment. Perhaps you'll follow in his footsteps."
I wasn't sure whether becoming a railway technician was part of my future plans, but I appreciated the possibility.
Garrick returned to the counter.
I remained beside the display.
Something bothered me.
The drained lamp crystal had become completely colourless in a matter of seconds.
If Garrick was correct, ordinary crystals shouldn't lose all their energy so suddenly.
More importantly, the lamp had gone dark without its crystal breaking.
I glanced towards Father.
He was examining the training rings while Evelyne asked Garrick whether they came in different colours.
Neither was paying attention to me.
My gaze returned to the depleted crystals.
I hesitated.
Then I extended one finger and touched the smallest crystal in the compartment.
Nothing happened.
I closed my eyes.
Come on.
I concentrated on the hollow sensation within my chest.
For several seconds, I felt only my heartbeat.
Then something stirred.
It was faint, barely distinguishable from the warmth of my own body.
But it was there.
A tiny current seemed to brush against my fingertip.
I held my breath.
The sensation moved.
Not through my skin exactly, but somewhere deeper, as though an invisible thread connected the crystal to the emptiness inside me.
A brief pulse travelled along that thread.
The crystal grew colder.
And the hollow space within my chest tightened.
I gasped.
The connection vanished.
My knees weakened so suddenly that I grabbed the edge of the shelf to remain standing.
"Lucien?"
Father's voice sounded distant.
I tried answering, but my mouth had gone dry.
The room tilted.
A moment later, strong hands lifted me from the floor.
"Lucien!"
I blinked.
Father was holding me against his chest, his expression tense.
"What's wrong?"
I struggled to gather my thoughts.
"Tired," I managed.
He pressed a hand against my forehead.
"Are you feeling sick?"
I shook my head.
It wasn't entirely a lie.
I didn't feel sick.
I felt as though I'd sprinted for several minutes without stopping.
Which was ridiculous, considering I'd barely moved.
Father studied me for another moment before turning towards Garrick.
"Do you have somewhere he can sit?"
"Of course. Here."
Garrick hurried to retrieve a chair.
Evelyne appeared beside us.
"What happened?"
"Your brother's feeling unwell," Father explained.
Her excitement disappeared immediately.
"Lucien?"
"I'm okay."
"You don't look okay."
That was difficult to argue with.
Father carried me to the chair and offered me some water.
I drank slowly while trying to understand what had happened.
The sensation within my chest was gone.
But I could still remember the tiny current passing through my finger.
For the first time, I hadn't merely sensed Aether.
I had drawn something from it.
And whatever I'd done, my body hadn't appreciated it.
Father insisted that we return home early.
Evelyne complained only once before deciding that my health was more important than testing her new rings.
I felt slightly guilty about ruining her afternoon.
On the journey home, she walked beside me rather than running ahead.
"Does your stomach hurt?" she asked.
"No."
"Your head?"
"A little."
"Maybe you ate something bad."
"I didn't."
She frowned thoughtfully.
"Maybe you should eat something good, then."
I looked at her.
It was difficult to argue with such flawless reasoning.
By the time we reached home, the dizziness had mostly disappeared, although my limbs still felt unusually heavy.
Mother was waiting in the sitting room, sorting fabric samples across a table.
She immediately noticed Father's expression.
"What happened?"
"Lucien had a dizzy spell at Garrick's shop."
Her face changed.
She crossed the room and knelt in front of me.
"Sweetheart, are you feeling all right?"
I nodded.
"Just tired."
She examined my face before touching my forehead.
"No fever."
"He may have overexerted himself," Father said. "He was running around quite a bit this morning."
I lowered my gaze.
If only he knew.
Mother sighed.
"Then he's resting for the afternoon."
Normally, I would have protested.
This time, I was relieved.
She carried me upstairs and tucked me into bed.
"Call me if you need anything."
"Okay."
She kissed my forehead before leaving.
The door remained slightly open.
I stared at the ceiling.
My first successful attempt at using that strange ability had lasted less than a second.
And it had nearly made me collapse.
Not exactly an impressive beginning.
Still, I couldn't suppress my excitement.
I had finally confirmed that the incident with the lamp hadn't been a dream.
Something inside me could interact with Aether.
But it didn't seem to work like Father's magic.
He released energy from his body to produce an effect.
I had done the opposite.
I had pulled energy inward.
Why?
I closed my eyes and recalled the sensation.
The faint thread.
The sudden pressure.
The emptiness tightening inside my chest.
It had felt almost instinctive.
As though some part of me recognised what it was supposed to do, even though I didn't understand it.
That thought unsettled me.
I remembered the endless darkness of the void.
The silence.
The loneliness.
And the entity's strange words.
A soul that should have vanished has begun to consume.
I opened my eyes.
For a moment, the bedroom seemed darker than before.
My heartbeat quickened.
I turned towards the window, where afternoon sunlight spilled across the floorboards.
The familiar warmth helped steady my breathing.
I wasn't there anymore.
I was home.
I repeated that thought until the tension in my chest eased.
Whatever this ability was, I would have to approach it carefully.
I had already learned what happened when I pushed too hard.
There was no reason to repeat the mistake.
I woke to the sound of voices downstairs.
The sunlight had faded, leaving my room bathed in the soft orange glow of evening.
I sat up.
My headache was gone.
More importantly, I no longer felt exhausted.
After making sure my legs would cooperate, I climbed out of bed and headed downstairs.
Father and Mother were speaking quietly in the kitchen.
"…northern line?"
Mother sounded concerned.
Father answered in a lower voice.
"They've suspended freight services beyond Eastbridge until the investigation is complete."
"Because of the attacks?"
"Yes."
I stopped near the doorway.
Father continued.
"Two more caravans were found abandoned yesterday. The guards believe something drove them off the road."
"An Aberrant?"
"Possibly."
"Then why are the railway engineers involved?"
Father hesitated.
"One of the inspection crews reported damage to the Aether conduits near the northern junction. They need someone familiar with the older systems."
Mother was silent for a moment.
"Adrian."
"I know."
"You're not going out there."
"I haven't agreed to anything."
"But they asked?"
He sighed.
"Yes."
I felt a chill.
The northern junction.
The same direction as the recent attacks.
I remembered the injured men at the railway station.
The bloodstained bandages.
The uncertainty in Father's voice when Evelyne asked about Greater Aberrants.
Mother spoke again.
"We have two children, Adrian. And another on the way."
"I know that, Marianne."
"Then let the guards handle it."
"They're trying. But if the conduits fail completely, the northern settlements could lose their railway supply route."
"That's not your responsibility."
Father didn't answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"Some of the men working out there are people I've known for years."
I looked down at my hands.
In my previous life, I'd rarely thought about the risks people accepted simply to keep society functioning.
Engineers, workers, drivers, emergency responders.
People who continued doing their jobs even when circumstances became dangerous.
Father was one of those people.
And for the first time, I realised that being a good man didn't necessarily mean making easy decisions.
"Lucien?"
Mother had noticed me.
I stepped into the kitchen.
Father's expression softened.
"Feeling better, little man?"
I nodded.
"Good."
He lifted me onto a chair.
Mother brought me a small plate of bread and fruit while Father returned to the table.
Neither mentioned the northern junction again.
But I couldn't forget what I'd heard.
After dinner, Evelyne found me sitting near the window.
She had changed into her nightdress and was carrying the training rings Father had purchased.
"Look!"
She held out her hands.
A faint blue glow surrounded her fingers.
Unlike her earlier attempts, the energy remained steady.
I leaned closer.
"You're getting better."
She smiled proudly.
"Father said I can practise for ten minutes every day."
"Only ten?"
"Until I learn control."
She looked at me thoughtfully.
"Are you feeling better now?"
"Yes."
"Good."
She sat beside me.
For a while, we watched the street outside.
A carriage passed beneath the glowing lamps, its wheels clicking against the cobblestones.
Then Evelyne spoke.
"Lucien?"
"Hm?"
"When I get stronger, I'll teach you magic."
I smiled.
"You already said that."
"I know. But I mean it."
She looked unusually serious.
"I'll become really strong. Strong enough that Father won't have to worry about those monsters anymore."
I studied her face.
She was only six.
Yet she had already begun thinking about protecting our family.
I wondered whether she understood how difficult that promise might be to keep.
Probably not.
But I didn't think that made it any less sincere.
"Then I'll get strong too," I said.
She blinked.
"You?"
I frowned.
"Yes, me."
Evelyne giggled.
"But you're still little."
"Not forever."
She considered this before nodding.
"Okay. Then we'll both get strong."
She extended her little finger.
I stared at it.
"A promise," she explained.
I hesitated only briefly before linking my finger with hers.
"Promise."
Her smile widened.
It was such a small thing.
Two children sitting beside a window, making a promise neither could fully understand.
Yet I found myself taking it seriously.
I had spent my first life making excuses.
Telling myself there would always be another opportunity.
Another day.
Another year.
This time, I wanted to be someone who kept his promises.
Even the small ones.
Later that night, after Evelyne had gone to bed, I returned to my room.
I sat on the edge of my mattress and examined my hands.
The strange sensation from the shop remained vivid in my memory.
I wanted to try again.
But the thought of collapsing a second time stopped me.
Instead, I closed my eyes and attempted something simpler.
I concentrated on the surrounding air.
Not to absorb anything.
Only to sense it.
For several minutes, nothing happened.
Then, faintly, I noticed a gentle warmth near the bedside lamp.
I opened my eyes.
The lamp's crystal glowed softly behind its glass covering.
I could almost feel the energy inside it.
Not clearly.
Not consistently.
But enough to recognise that it was there.
I smiled.
Perhaps learning magic wouldn't be impossible after all.
I reached towards the lamp, then stopped.
There was no need to rush.
I withdrew my hand and lay down.
Outside, Bellhaven continued its ordinary evening routine.
Carriages passed along the streets. Neighbours spoke beneath the lamps. Somewhere in the distance, a train sounded its horn.
It was a peaceful night.
And for the first time since my reincarnation, I found myself looking forward to tomorrow not simply because I was alive, but because there was something I wanted to accomplish.
I wanted to understand this world.
I wanted to learn magic.
I wanted to see the places beyond Bellhaven.
And someday, perhaps, I wanted to discover just how far this new life could take me.
As sleep began to overtake me, one final thought crossed my mind.
I wonder what's beyond the five continents.
I had no way of knowing that the answer was far greater than anything I could have imagined.