Five months had passed since the night of the crystals.
At eight months old, Grim could sit up on his own, grab objects, and was beginning to crawl—all normal developmental milestones for an infant. What wasn't normal was how the water in nearby glasses would sometimes ripple when he was upset.
This morning, Sera had placed him on a blanket in the courtyard, where he could watch his father's training routine. The old servant woman believed fresh air was good for babies, and Grim wasn't about to complain. Anything was better than staring at the broken ceiling.
"You're getting slow, old friend," Marcus said, while parrying Rowan's strikes.
The Archmage had extended his visit indefinitely, claiming he needed time away from court politics. Grim suspected he was really here to monitor his development, but he didn't mind. The more he learned about this world's magic system, the better.
Rowan grunted, his sword had a faint blue aura surrounded by the blade. "Not slow. Conservative."
Marcus laughed, side-stepping the attack. He wasn't even using a weapon, just deflecting Rowan's strikes with flicks of his fingers, each movement trailing wisps of red flame.
"I can feel you drawing on all six of your mana hearts," the Archmage said. "Yet you're still holding back. Why?"
Six mana hearts? Grim's interest piqued.
[Mana hearts are the core of a magic user's power in this world,] the voice in his head explained, as if sensing his curiosity. [They form when a person learns to pull mana from their surroundings and pool it together in their core before circulating it through their body.]
"How many does the average person have?" Grim thought back.
[Most have only one or two. Your father's six is exceptional, a testament to his discipline and training.]
Grim watched more closely now as Rowan attacked again. This time, he could almost see it—the flow of energy from six distinct points in his father's chest, converging and then spreading throughout his body and into his sword.
"You know why," Rowan replied to Marcus, breathing heavily. "Without light affinity, I'll never match those bastards at court, no matter how many mana hearts I cultivate."
Marcus sighed, lowering his hands. "The number of mana hearts matters, Rowan. Six puts you among the elite, affinity, or no affinity."
"Tell that to Viktor Luminaris," Rowan spat. "Three mana hearts, but his light affinity let him cut through my strongest defense like it was paper."
"Viktor is dead," Marcus said quietly. "He was among those who pushed hardest for your family's exile. His death is part of why I can now work to restore your name."
Grim processed this information. So it wasn't just about having mana hearts, but also how your natural affinity interacted with them.
[Correct,] the voice confirmed. [Affinity determines the nature of your magic. The number of mana hearts determines its power and endurance. Those with rare affinities like light can overcome opponents with more mana hearts through quality rather than quantity.]
"And I have light and water," Grim thought. "So I've got quality and potentially quantity if I can develop multiple hearts."
[Precisely. Though cultivating even a single mana, he typically takes years of training, beginning in early childhood.]
Rowan sheathed his sword, walking over to a bench where he'd left a container of water. He took a sip, and then poured a good bit over his head.
"When do you think Grim will be ready to begin training?" Marcus asked, glancing over at the blanket where Grim sat.
"Years yet," Rowan replied. "Most children don't start mana gathering exercises until they're at least four."
Marcus frowned. "But with his dual affinity—"
"I won't push him," Rowan cut in. "Not after what happened to my brother."
Grim knew the story from overheard conversations. His uncle had been pushed too hard, too young, his mana channels damaged beyond repair. He'd lived as a hollow shell until illness took him at seventeen.
"Light affinity hasn't appeared in your family for three generations," Marcus pressed. "We don't know how it might manifest in him, especially combined with water."
Rowan's expression darkened. "Which is precisely why we proceed with caution." He looked over at Grim. "He's still just a baby, Marcus."
Only in body, Grim thought with frustration. His mind was fully capable of understanding what they were discussing—the cultivation of mana hearts, the circulation of energy, the balance of power, and control.
Reaching out with his senses as he'd been practicing in secret, Grim tried to feel the mana around him. The voice had been guiding him through basic awareness exercises when no one was watching.
[Remember,] the voice instructed, [mana exists everywhere, but concentrates around living things. Feel the energy of the grass beneath you, the trees at the edge of the courtyard, even the insects in the soil.]
Grim closed his eyes, focusing. At first, there was nothing. Then, he could feel it. He became aware of a subtle vibration. The sensation was the energy flowing through everything around him.
"Good," the voice encouraged. [Now, try to draw some of that energy toward you. Imagine it as water flowing to a low point.]
Grim wasn't sure exactly how to do this, but he pictured the energy as tiny streams trickling toward him. To his surprise, he felt something respond. A powerful vibration went through his body.
"Holy shit, it's working," he thought.
[Be careful. Draw too much at once and—]
Grim ignored the warning, eager to progress. He mentally pulled harder, drawing more mana toward himself.
Suddenly, the sensation turned from a vibration to his head feeling like he was being kicked by a horse. Energy rushed into his body fast and strong. overwhelming his body's senses.
"Fuck!" Grim thought in panic as the mana swirled inside him.
Across the courtyard, Rowan and Marcus had resumed their discussion, unaware of the magical buildup happening right next to them. The first indication something was wrong, was when he began to drip sweat kore than normal.
"What the..." Rowan stared as the water container bulged, then burst, showering him in water. The water soaked him and than proceeded to float around him.
At the same moment, the shadow cast by the manor wall suddenly receded, as if pushed back by an invisible light source.
Both men turned toward Grim.
The baby sat with streams of water and light swirling around him, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and concentration. The grass around his blanket had begun to shimmer, each blade catching droplets of water that glowed from within, while small rivulets rose from the ground, defying gravity.
"By all the gods," Marcus whispered.
Rowan rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside his son. "Grim! What's happening to him?"
"He's gathering mana," Marcus said in disbelief. "Not just gathering it—he's channeling it. At eight months old!"
The energy continued to build, the light growing brighter, the water rising higher. Grim could feel it spiraling toward his core, trying to concentrate there, but there was no structure to contain it.
[You need to release it safely or direct it to form a core,] the voice instructed urgently. [A mana heart doesn't form from just gathering; you must compress and stabilize the energy.]
"How the fuck do I do that?" Grim thought frantically as the power continued to build.
[Imagine a sphere at your center. See the mana compressing into it, layer by layer, like water freezing from the outside in.]
Grim tried to follow these instructions, picturing a ball of energy in his chest. The rushing mana began to slow, some of it swirling into the imagined sphere.
"He's trying to form a mana heart," Marcus observed in awe. "Rowan, this is unprecedented. He shouldn't be capable of this for years!"
"Help him!" Rowan demanded. "He can't control it!"
The Archmage placed a hand on Grim's forehead. "I'll guide the process, but most of it must come from him. The mana has already recognized him as its master."
Through Marcus's touch, Grim felt a steadying influence, helping him direct the chaotic energy. The sphere in his chest began to take more definite shape, mana compressing into a dense, spinning ball.
The light around him pulsed once, blindingly bright, then receded. The water droplets suspended in the air fell back to the earth with a splash.
In the sudden quiet, Grim could feel it—a warm, steady presence in his chest, like a second heartbeat.
[You've formed your first mana heart,] the voice confirmed. [At eight months old. This is... exceptional.]
Rowan gathered Grim into his arms, checking him for signs of injury or distress. Finding none, he looked up at Marcus with a mixture of pride and fear.
"What does this mean?" he asked quietly.
Marcus's expression was solemn. "It means your son is a prodigy unlike any I've ever encountered. And it means we can no longer keep him hidden away in exile." He placed a hand on Rowan's shoulder. "The capital will learn of this, one way or another. Better it comes from us, on our terms."
Grim, exhausted from the mana manipulation, couldn't even keep his eyes open anymore. As he drifted toward sleep in his father's arms, he felt a sense of satisfaction. His first concrete achievement in this world—a mana heart formed at an age when most children were still learning to crawl.