Four years have already flown by! Time really does fly when you're not actively trying to stop it. Turning five means I'm no longer a clumsy toddler but a little boy with legs that (almost always) go where I want and a mouth that never stops chattering in my usual mezzo-soprano tone.
My World at 5 Years Old:
Lila: My best friend isn't the shy little girl who barely babbled anymore. Now she talks a mile a minute! Her coppery, almost red pigtails (always immaculate, thanks to her mother) bounce while she tells me endless stories about her dolls, the bugs she finds in the garden, or whatever pops into her head. We play almost every day, whether at her house (the mayor's is still bigger, but ours is way more fun with Borin, Lyra, and Kael around) or at my place. We understand each other perfectly, though sometimes I struggle to keep up with her torrent of words. She's still my partner in mischief and the only person my age who doesn't look at me strangely (probably because we grew up together).
Mom: Mornings are sacred. Mom's my primary teacher. I can already read fluently (thanks to [Rapid Learner] and her infinite patience), and my writing is improving, even if my handwriting still resembles a scrawl. The best part is helping her at the clinic. I'm no longer just passing cloths; I can identify herbs, mix simple ointments under her supervision, and sometimes even channel a tiny bit of my Light (vestigial, but it's there) to speed up healing for minor cuts. Patients, drawn from all over by the fame of "Great Mage Elara" (a title she hates but everyone uses), watch me with a mix of astonishment and amusement. "Is that little one your apprentice, Lady Elara?" she simply smiles and replies, "He has curious hands and a willing heart." Of course, she knows I'm different. After the Awakening, we had a very serious talk (well, she talked, and I listened intently) about the absolute need for control and discretion. She guides my Light practice privately, always focused on healing and moderation.
The Makeshift Aunts and Uncles (Borin, Lyra, Kael): Several days a week, they "kidnap" me for trips to the market or errands around town and the surrounding countryside (always with Mom's warning echoing, "Nothing dangerous!"). They're my real-world mentors, showing me a different view of life. Borin teaches me to inspect building structures ("Look at that beam on the guard's watchtower, tadpole—it's all wrong! It'll fall with a good wind!"), to gauge the strength of a pack animal, and even the basics of hand-to-hand combat, which mostly ends up being games of pushing and balancing. Lyra hones my observation skills ("How many people are wearing red hats in the square, Lexo? Which way is the wind blowing today? Will that cloud bring rain?"), teaches me to move silently through the nearby forest, and the fundamentals of tracking. And Kael… well, Kael shows me how to spot pickpockets (discreetly pointing them out), negotiate prices (with comically unexpected results), untie complicated knots, and generally think "outside the box." His lessons are chaotic, practical, and incredibly useful—I feel like I'm absorbing decades of adventurers' experience.
Dad: Evenings, just before dusk, are Dad's time. We head to the backyard with wooden swords (mine is small, light—a gift from him) and the shield he gave me. Our "sword sessions" are less about training and more about chatting. While practicing basic stances (he's infinitely patient with my clumsiness), he tells me stories from his days as Captain (usually hilarious anecdotes about town disputes), asks about my day, or we simply talk about nothing in particular. His pride is palpable; every clumsy block and every lucky parry is met with a "Well done, champ!" I know he holds back, but these moments are precious—he's my dad, and he's proud of me.
My Secret Progress: Although my training is now supervised (Light with Mom; physical and skill training with the aunts/uncles and Dad), I still sneak in practice sessions whenever I can. My control over the vestigial affinities (Air, Earth, Fire) is slowly improving—I can move small objects with wind, make a pebble tremble with Earth, or even warm my hand slightly with Fire. They're simple tricks compared to my Awakening, but it's progress. The [Chronos] ability is still latent, a presence that sends shivers down my spine. I haven't dared use it since that day. Eos hasn't spoken to me again, but sometimes I feel as if... someone is watching me at the strangest moments.
Uncle Valerius: Once a month, like clockwork, my uncle the General appears. He always brings a small gift (strategy books, detailed maps, even a fancy compass) and tries to talk to me alone when Mom isn't around. "Lexo, there are important things you need to understand about the Kingdom, about your place…" he begins. But she always intervenes, saying, "Valerius, we've already talked about this. He's five years old. Let him be a child." The tension between them is palpable. My uncle sighs, looks at me with those serious eyes, and relents—for now. I know there are secrets they still aren't telling me.
Then, on his latest visit, things shifted. Mom was busy handling an emergency at the clinic, so my uncle took me for a walk in the garden where Lyra had planted a myriad of flowers. His face was more serious than usual.
"Lexo," he said, kneeling to meet my eyes, "your mother wants to protect you, and I understand that. But there are realities that can't be hidden forever." He paused, gathering his courage. "I've received a direct message. It isn't a request—it's… a summons."
I looked at him, waiting.
"King Cedrón," Valerius continued in a low, serious tone, "requests your presence in the capital. He wants to meet you."
I nodded. The King—sounds important, even if it seems a bit overblown.
Not satisfied with my blank expression, he took a deep breath and continued, "There's a reason for his interest, dear nephew. A reason your mother has tried to hide for your own good." He looked me straight in the eyes. "King Cedrón… is my father—and your mother's father."
He let that sink in. Mom's father…
"That means, Lexo," Valerius concluded, his tone heavy with gravity, "that King Cedrón… is your grandfather."
Plot twist! The King? My grandfather? My five-year-old mind (with an adult processor) struggled to process the implications—royalty, politics, the source of Mom's power, her possible noble origin, her escape to this remote town… It was all starting to click in a terrifying yet exhilarating way. My quiet life of training and play was about to get a whole lot more complicated. A lot.