I opened my eyes in the middle of the night. The living room was quiet, save for the cozy crackling of firewood. By the fireplace, illuminated by the flickering orange light, sat Lucia. She was methodically tossing logs into the fire.

  — "It’s freezing in here," she began, without turning around.

  That made sense. I kept myself warm with fire magic in passive mode, and the vampires and fear demons couldn't care less about heating—they were low-maintenance creatures. We only lit the fireplace for the aesthetic, and even then, only once a week.

  — "Why did you come here, exactly?" I sat up on the sofa, wrapping myself in a blanket.

  — "What, I'm not allowed? I missed you." Lucia turned to me, the flames reflecting in her eyes. "Besides, interesting rumors are floating around, you know. They say in a distant kingdom, some monster raised a volcano all the way to the heavens. And this volcano 'sneezed' lava so effectively that almost nothing is left of the country. By the way, their neighbors have already moved in and seized the territory, taking advantage of the moment. Well done, Zen. Quality work."

  I winced. — "Did Mira tell you?"

  — "Mhm. Ran into her on the road. She whispered where exactly in the middle of nowhere you were playing at being a shepherd." Lucia moved to sit next to me on the edge of the sofa. Her gaze became heavy, almost tangible. "No matter how you look at it, you’re the only thing that reminds me of my brothers. The cores of Zarril, Ignis, Krava, Mortis... Fanuil. And a few others."

  I sighed. — "I know. How many times are you going to remind me? Every time I think about it, I get the creeps. Like I’m not even human."

  — "But that’s exactly why you are who you are," Lucia said, gently resting her palm on the crown of my head. "By absorbing their cores, you inherited their essence. Their power. Their traits."

  Her fingers began to slowly run through my hair.

  That was it. Resistance was futile. Gravity pulled my head down, and I obediently closed my eyes.

  — "When you stroke my hair..." I muttered, feeling my consciousness melt away, "a kind of transcendental calm sets in. Like all those voices inside finally shut up."

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  — "Sleep, Zen," she whispered. "While you’re sleeping, you’re just my younger brother."

  I drifted off into sleep to the whisper of the fire and the gentle movement of her hand.

  At breakfast, the children clung to Lucia. Their attention was caught by her sword—a strange thing carved entirely out of ice.

  — "Won't it melt?" Erol poked a finger at the cold crossguard. "And if you hit a rock, won't it shatter? It looks fragile."

  Lucia glanced at the blade. — "It’s a gift from a very old friend," she gave a barely perceptible smile. "And believe me, kid, this thing is stronger than any metal in this world. You could slice a mountain in half and not even dull the edge."

  A week passed. Lucia fit into our farm life with unexpected ease. She helped Aya in the kitchen, hauled sacks with Alastor, and seemed to actually enjoy the grounded bustle of it all.

  But the children's main hobby became their training. The ring of wood against wood constantly echoed across the lawn in front of the house—Erol and Yara had become seriously obsessed with fencing. Truthfully, you couldn't ask for a better teaching staff. Personal instruction from a Demon of War, a Demon of Poverty, and a being on Lucia’s level... After a school like that, these little vampires could probably conquer a small kingdom together by lunchtime.

  Lucia instructed them in magic. I usually sat on the fence nearby, lazily listening to the theory. Today, they were practicing mana accumulation—the boring task of filling a bucket with water through their fingertips.

  — "Zen," Erol paused from his bucket, wiping sweat from his forehead. "What’s your maximum?"

  — "Meaning what?" I cracked one eye open.

  — "Well... how do I know when I've reached your level? Where’s the bar?"

  I looked at the table under the awning where a basket of apples sat. It was about ten meters away from me. I didn't even move.

  POP.

  A second later, I was taking a juicy bite out of an apple that had just materialized in my hand.

  — "Well, when you can do that—consider yourself number one. Right after me, of course."

  Erol stared at Lucia. — "Is that... is it that hard? Just to move a piece of fruit?"

  Lucia chuckled, shaking her head. — "It’s not just 'hard,' Erol. It’s practically impossible. In the entire history of the world, you can count spatial mages on your fingers. Those who can teleport themselves are few and far between. But those who master the remote teleportation of objects without touching them..."

  She trailed off, looking at me with a strange mix of pride and irritation. — "Well, he’s the only one who can do it fully and this effortlessly."

  I chewed the piece of fruit and pointed at myself self-importantly. — "Admire me while I'm alive and in a good mood."

  — "That’s exactly the problem," Lucia grumbled. "You don't even understand what you’re doing. To you, it’s an instinct, like breathing. And that, Zen, is incredibly infuriating to those who spend decades studying a single pathetic formula."

  I just shrugged. To each their own.