I decide to ease up on the intense observation of Dad's noisy friends (although their antics still provide decent background entertainment) and focus on "Operation: Mom Focus." Mom is a walking well of wisdom and power, and if anyone can drop clues about magic and my own potential, it's her. Besides, her presence is downright calming—a welcome change from the chaos of the backyard camp.
So I spend more time practically glued to her side. I crawl after her through the house, sit at her feet while she organizes her medicinal herbs, and demand to be picked up (with the usual baby babble and grabby little hands) whenever she sits down to read or meditate. She seems delighted by my sudden extra clinginess.
"You're a little Velcro baby today, Lexo," she laughs softly as she settles me on her lap. "Want Mommy to tell you a story? I know! How about the Great Awakening!" I nod enthusiastically—though she probably just thinks I'm bobbing my head randomly.
"You see, when a kid turns thirteen and has… the aptitude," she explains, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, "their core finishes forming all at once. Boom!" She makes a gentle gesture with her hands while tickling me, and the word resonates. "All that energy built up over years gets released in an instant. It can be... chaotic." Her eyes drift off for a moment. "I remember when my brother awakened... he blew a hole right through his bedroom ceiling! And a friend of mine shook an entire wing of the academy. Sometimes they break the bed, sometimes they just crack the walls… depends on their power and natural control."
A chaotic awakening. An explosion of energy. That would explain why it's such a meticulously planned event. My gradual method—forced by my early consciousness—seems to be skipping that baptism by fire (or light, or earth…). Maybe that's a good thing; it avoids demolishing the furniture. Or maybe I'm missing out on some kind of initial boost? Interesting.
Mom hugs me tighter. "But don't you worry about that yet, little one. You've got a long way to go." I feel the familiar warmth of her Light energy wrapping around me, pure and comforting. While I'm nestled in her arms, I keep up my internal routine, focusing on my 50% core. I can feel it gently resonating with her own energy—as if two tuning forks were vibrating in harmony. I'm not actively trying to copy her or absorb her light; I'm just… feeling it, while I continue to compact my own power.
One day, while we're in the clinic attached to the house, a man with a nasty gash on his arm (a farm tool accident, I think) sits waiting as Mom preps a salve. I'm on the floor, playing with a wooden block. As Mom murmurs soft words and her familiar light weaves over the wound, I suddenly feel an instinctive pull—as if I want to help. I focus on my core, willing the wound to close. Nothing visible happens, of course—my power is minuscule compared to hers. But for a split second, I swear Mom's light flares a little brighter, and she blinks, shooting me a curious look before returning to her work. Did she notice something? Or was that just my imagination?
Shortly after that, another visitor arrives. This one isn't loud, and he isn't lugging an axe. A tall, refined man steps forward, with eyes as clear as the ocean and a face so perfectly chiseled it looks carved by an artist. He carries himself with impeccable military bearing, clad in ornate golden armor studded with rock crystals that match his eyes, all gleaming beneath an elegant cape. He isn't alone—he's escorted by two soldiers who look like they stepped straight out of a Roman opera, making it abundantly clear that this guy is way above average, hailing from somewhere important and holding serious rank.
His expression is stern yet calm. He pauses for a second at the door, signaling his escorts to wait outside, and then strides into our humble house as if entering a throne room. Borin, Lyra, and Kael immediately tense up, nearly snapping to attention. Dad straightens up too, losing some of his relaxed "village dad" vibe.
The man ignores everyone else, his eyes locking onto Mom. A small smile softens his severe features. "Ah, sister. My eyes are graced to see you."
Mom sighs but smiles back. "Valerius. Couldn't you have just sent a letter?"
"Kingdom affairs required my presence in the region, and I wasn't about to pass so close without seeing my sister… and my new nephew." His eyes land on me, still cradled in Dad's arms. They're piercing, analytical. "So this is the little one… Lexo, I hear, is what they call you?"
Uncle Valerius! The brother who once blew a hole in the ceiling. And now… a General of the Kingdom. The pieces keep falling into place. Mom isn't just a powerful mage; she comes from an important, influential family. This man radiates authority and a disciplined power that's different from both Dad's and Mom's. More... disciplined. Perhaps Earth? Or Metal? His core must be impressive too.
He takes me from Dad's arms with surprising gentleness for a high-ranking military man and examines me closely. I feel his gaze as if he could see right through me. Thankfully, he notices nothing out of the ordinary—just a chubby, slightly drooling baby.
"Looks like Garen in some ways, but you've got her eyes, Elara," he finally declares, handing me back to Mom. Then his tone grows serious. "We need to talk, sister. About the situation on our borders… and about why you're still hiding out here."
Tension snaps back into the room. Everyone grows expectant. Dad places a protective hand on Mom's shoulder, and I shift uncomfortably between them—so much so that I accidentally fill my diaper from nerves.