For the past week, Vivian had been living a secret life. He had mastered crawling.

  His small, seven-month-old body was finally cooperating, and he'd spent the quiet moments, when Nora was distracted or Oliver was out, mapping every inch of their small house. He was cautious, unsure when a normal baby was supposed to hit this milestone. 'What if they get suspicious?' he'd worried.

  His First Ring was a constant, warm hum in his center. He had power. And now, he had a new ability. If he lay very still and focused, he could see the Aether. It wasn't a color, but a subtle, mesmerizing distortion in the air, like watching the world through a ripple of heat as light bent around the invisible, flowing mana.

  'Okay,' he thought, sitting up one morning. 'I can see it. I can feel it. Now, how do I use it?'

  He went through his mental checklist. 'Status!' he thought.

  Nothing.

  'Fireball!' he mentally chanted, trying to gather the Aether. He felt the mana leave his body—a tiny, invisible puff of energy.

  And absolutely nothing happened. The air didn't even shimmer. The mana had left him and simply... dissipated.

  'This is ridiculous,' he fumed. 'Those novels I've read all had fireballs in them.' He decided on a new approach: brute force. He would just push the mana out, like a bullet.

  He focused on the glass of water Nora had left on the small table across the room. He breathed in, gathered that warm, humming energy in his core, and then pushed.

  Fwip. The mana left him. The glass sat there, perfectly still.

  'Again.'

  He pushed. Nothing.

  'Again.'

  He pushed. Nothing.

  He tried for what felt like an hour, his baby body getting tired and fussy. He was about to give up.

  'Just... one more time,' he thought, his small face screwed up in concentration. He focused on a single point on the glass, and shoved with all his mental might.

  Ting.

  The glass on the table rattled.

  Vivian froze in panic. 'Oh, no, no, no! What was I thinking? Using magic in the house! What if it shattered?'

  He stared, wide-eyed, at the glass. It rattled ... and then a single drop of water, maybe two if you were being generous, trickled over the rim and onto the wood. Then, silence.

  Vivian just stared. All that effort... for two drops of water.

  'That... was pathetic,' he thought, slumping back onto his bedding. 'My ultimate magic attack has the destructive force of a mild sneeze.' He sighed, deeply disappointed. 'Okay. So I can project it. It's just incredibly weak and has no form.'

  ...

  Later that day at the Healer's Hut, Vivian felt that something was off. The hut was too quiet. The air of tense, academic scrutiny was gone.

  'Alicia,' he realized. 'She's not here.'

  He was sitting on a soft blanket on the floor, a spot Lily had designated for him now that he could sit up. He heard Nora's voice, quiet and laced with genuine worry. "Lily, is Mistress Alicia still not back?"

  Lily shook her head, her expression just as concerned. "No. Her note just said she had to 'settle an old account' and that we were to continue with the herb inventory. I hope she's okay..."

  Nora sighed, clearly anxious.

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  Vivian, however, was not anxious. He was happy. Alicia was gone. Nora was distracted. Lily was in charge. This was an opportunity.

  He was on the floor, and the high shelf with the books was in his line of sight.

  He saw his chance. Nora was turned away, talking to Pete. Lily was busy with the twins.

  Vivian moved.

  He didn't just crawl. He bolted. He shot from his blanket, his hands and knees pumping with a speed that was shocking for his size. He crossed the open floor in seconds, a small, determined, diaper-clad missile.

  The sound of his rapid crawling on the floorboards made everyone freeze.

  Nora, Lily, Pete, and all four children (Finn, Freya, Clara, and Silas) just stared, their mouths open.

  "He... he's crawling!" Nora finally gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, her eyes shining with tears of joy.

  "He's so fast!" Finn yelled, delighted. "Like a rabbit!"

  Nora rushed over and scooped him up, hugging him and crying happy tears. "Oh, my clever boy! My strong, clever son! Look at you go!"

  Vivian, caught in the hug, felt a surge of pride. This was a real milestone. He had made his mother happy.

  Then he remembered his mission.

  The second she put him down, he made a beeline for the shelf again. He reached it, pulled himself up to his "knees," and pointed, his face a mask of pure, determined need.

  "Oh," Nora said, her joy turning to confusion. "What is it now?"

  When he realized she wasn't getting the message, he did the only thing he could. He threw his head back and wailed. It was a tantrum of epic, ear-splitting proportions, a shriek of pure, unadulterated want. He pointed, he screamed, he kicked his feet on the floor.

  "I think... I think he wants the books," Lily said, stunned.

  Vivian did not stop screaming until Nora, bright red with embarrassment, finally relented. "Lily, please! Can you just... can you get one? Just hold it so he can see it?!"

  Lily, baffled, took down the smallest volume. "Alright, alright, you little tyrant," she murmured, sitting on the floor with him. "You can look. But no touching."

  Vivian immediately went silent. He stared, utterly captivated, as Lily opened the first page. It wasn't history. It was a beautiful, hand-drawn illustration of a plant.

  'A... an herbal,' he realized. 'It's a textbook. A medicinal plant guide.'

  From that day on, it was a routine. Vivian would throw his tantrum, and Lily, sighing, would open the book and begin "teaching" him, pointing to the pictures. "This is Kingsfoil, see? Good for fevers."

  Vivian was in heaven. He was finally, finally learning something useful.

  A week later, he reached another critical milestone: his first solid food.

  Nora sat him down, her face beaming, holding a small wooden bowl. He'd been waiting for this for months. His mind was a catalog of flavors he desperately missed. He didn't even need anything fancy. Just the sharp, savory taste of roasted meat. The crisp, clean snap of a fresh vegetable. The simple, salty-sweet comfort of bread and cheese. Anything.

  She put the spoon in his mouth.

  He tasted it.

  It was a grey, gritty, lukewarm paste. It tasted of nothing. Just boiled, mashed... sadness. He almost gagged.

  'This,' he thought, as Nora happily gave him another spoonful, 'is what despair tastes like.'

  But he ate every bite. He was a baby, but he was also a man with a plan. He was mobile. He was eating solid food. And he was learning about the herbs of this world.

  It was progress.

  ...

  ?A full week passed since Vivian had made his magical discovery. His daily routine was set: crawling, food disappointment, and devouring the herbal guide while Lily supervised.

  ?One chilly afternoon, a sharp, panicked shout echoed from the small storage area of the hut.

  ?"He's locked! He's really locked!"

  ?Nora and Oliver, who were inside the Healer's Hut checking their inventory of preserved herbs, rushed to the small storage closet. Vivian was deposited on his blanket.

  ?When Nora returned a minute later, her face was strained. "The twins were trying to trick Silas, and they accidentally flipped the latch on the herb closet! The old iron lock is stuck, and Silas is crying inside."

  ?Oliver was already leaning into the door. "Silas! Stay calm, son! We'll get this open."

  ?Just as Oliver began to brace his shoulder against the heavy wood, the door of the hut swung open, and the cold, dry air of the outside rushed in.

  ?Alicia stood there. She looked weary, covered in trail dust, but her eyes, usually obscured by a practiced fog, were sharp and terrifyingly clear. She had arrived just in time to hear the commotion.

  ?"What is the meaning of this racket?" she demanded, stepping into the hut.

  ?"Alicia! You're back!" Nora cried, relieved. "It's the lock! The children—"

  ?Alicia looked from the crying child inside the closet to the panicked parents. She walked straight to the lock.

  ?She simply lifted her hand and with a sharp clack, the rusted bolt retracted, and the lock fell to the floor with a clean sound. The door swung open, freeing Silas, who tumbled out coughing from the cloud of dried herb dust.

  ?Alicia turned her gaze back inside the hut, sweeping her eyes over the familiar scene: Lily comforting a terrified Silas, Pete staring at the broken lock, and Vivian, sitting on his blanket, silently watching the drama unfold.

  ?Alicia’s eyes locked onto Vivian. She stared, an unsettling intensity replacing the dust of the road.

  ?"Everyone, except Nora and Oliver" Alicia commanded, her voice low and dangerous. "Out."

  ?Lily, Pete, and the children scrambled for the door.

  ?Alicia walked over to Vivian, who was still sitting perfectly upright. She knelt, her face inches from his, and stared into his too-intelligent eyes.

  ?"Nora, Oliver," Alicia finally whispered, her eyes still fixed on vivian. "You have brought a monster into this house."