Traveling through the light took only an instant, but that didn't make it pleasant. The moment my body passed through the gateway, every sensation twisted unnaturally.
My limbs became weightless, my stomach lurched violently, and for one horrifying second it felt like my body had been ripped apart before being stitched back together.
Then the feeling vanished.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," my father groaned as we stepped out of the portal.
"It's because you resist the transfer every time," my mother replied with a soft laugh. "You just have to relax."
Easy for her to say. Even as an infant, I still felt sick afterward.
"We won't have to use another gate for a while now that the baby is here," she added while gently fixing the blanket wrapped around me.
Baby. I still wasn't fully used to that word referring to me. part of me still expected to wake up back on Earth. Back in my apartment. Back in my old life.
Instead, I had awakened in a world of mana, spellhearts, and elemental affinities.
A world where glowing runes engraved themselves into children's skin just moments after birth.
"Mom! Dad! Over here!"
A loud voice suddenly echoed across the courtyard.
I looked up and spotted a young girl with ghostly ivory hair waving both arms wildly near the entrance of a large stone estate.
"Oh, Aria's here, hun," my mother said warmly.
Aria immediately sprinted toward us.
She looked around six years old, maybe slightly older, dressed in loose training clothes stained with dirt and dust. A small notebook was tucked tightly beneath one of her arms as she ran.
Then I felt it. Mana.
Even without fully understanding how, I could sense it surrounding her.
Sharp. Restless. Wild.
The mana around my father flowed calmly like water. Aria's felt completely different. It twisted constantly around her body like invisible currents of wind.
The moment she reached us; her silver eyes locked directly onto mine.
"...That's the baby?" she asked.
"His name is Silas," my mother replied.
Aria leaned closer until her face was only inches from mine.
I stared back silently. For some reason, the mana surrounding her felt far denser than it should have for someone her age.
"He blinked at me," Aria whispered dramatically. "Aria, he's a baby," my father sighed.
"Yeah, but he blinked at me. That means he likes me more."
Before either of my parents could respond, Aria proudly placed both hands on her hips.
"I'm Aria Veylor," she declared confidently. "And I'm gonna become the strongest mage in the kingdom someday."
The confidence in her voice sounded absurd coming from a child.
And yet... Something about her made it difficult to doubt.
Aria suddenly opened the notebook she had been carrying.
The pages were overflowing with sketches. Runes. Drawings of monsters. Dungeon floor layouts.
Some pages looked incredibly detailed while others were messy collections of random ideas and notes crammed together wherever space was available.
"I organized everything this time," Aria said proudly while flipping through pages rapidly. "See?"
She shoved the notebook directly toward my parents.
One page contained drawings of different rune patterns with tiny handwritten notes beside them.
Another had rough sketches of dungeon creatures.
One page was almost entirely filled with possible combinations of wind spell formations.
"Aria..." my mother muttered softly.
"What?"
"Did you stay awake doing this again?"
"...Maybe."
"You need sleep."
"I needed to finish writing before I forgot the rune pattern."
My father carefully took the notebook from her hands and flipped through several pages.
His expression slowly changed from annoyance to disbelief.
"You actually labeled mana flow points..."
"I know," Aria said proudly.
"And these dungeon floor sketches?"
"I copied them from Grandpa's books."
My father stared at her for a long moment before sighing heavily.
"You spend more time studying dungeons than playing with other children."
"Other children don't know how spell formulas work."
That response came so quickly it sounded rehearsed.
My mother tried unsuccessfully to hide a laugh.
Aria grabbed the notebook back before anyone else could touch it.
"I'm serious though," she continued excitedly while flipping through more pages. "Look at this one."
She pointed toward a page filled with layered rune circles.
"If you change the shape of the outer formation, the mana moves faster through the spell."
"...Who told you that?" my father asked carefully.
"I figured it out."
Silence. Even I blinked at that. Aria either completely misunderstood what she was talking about... Or she was terrifyingly talented.
Judging by my parents' expressions, they seemed to think it was the second one.
A sudden gust of wind swirled around the courtyard as pale mana unconsciously leaked from Aria again. Loose leaves spiraled upward while faint currents wrapped around her small body. My father immediately frowned.
"Aria."
She froze.
"...What?"
"Were you circulating mana again?"
"N-No."
"Aria."
She puffed her cheeks out stubbornly.
"...Maybe a little."
My mother sighed softly. "Your spellheart is still developing."
"I know that."
"Then you also know you shouldn't force mana circulation yet," my father added. Aria crossed her arms defensively. "I wasn't forcing it! Grandpa said the more mana I circulate into my spellheart during meditation, the faster it'll grow."
"That doesn't mean your body can handle endless training," my father replied. "I already formed my first spell anyway," Aria muttered proudly.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. My mother's eyes widened slightly. "You completed it already?" Aria grinned smugly. "Three days ago." "...At six years old," my father muttered under his breath.
Even I understood enough by now to realize that wasn't normal. "Wanna see it?" Before anyone could answer, pale mana surged toward her hand instinctively. Unlike my father's smooth mana flow, hers moved violently, twisting through the air in unstable spirals.
The wind around the courtyard suddenly intensified. Leaves scattered. Dust spiraled upward. Then— FWOOOSH! A burst of compressed wind in the shape of tiny arcs exploded from her palm and tore across the courtyard. Several loose papers immediately flew out of Aria's notebook and scattered everywhere.
"MY NOTES!" Aria screamed before chasing after them in complete panic.
I stared silently as she sprinted wildly across the courtyard trying to grab pages covered in rune sketches before the wind carried them away.
And somehow... That was the moment Aria Veylor first truly made sense to me.
Not when she declared she'd become the strongest mage in the kingdom.
Not when my father looked genuinely shaken by a six-year-old completing her first spell.
Not even when I felt the violent currents of mana spiraling around her unstable spellheart.
No. It was this.
A terrifying magical prodigy sprinting across a courtyard in absolute despair over flying notebook pages.