Ashvale's School of Minor Arcana looked less like a prestigious institution of learning and more like someone had fused a bakery and a barn and sprinkled a few glowing runes on the walls for good measure. The roof sagged in the middle like it was sighing at its own existence, and the sign out front—Welcome Young Mages!—was hanging by one nail and a lot of hope.
Elias stood outside with Rhea's tiny hand in his, second-guessing every life choice that had led him to this moment.
"You sure you want to go in?" he asked.
Rhea adjusted her tiny backpack—hand-stitched and shaped like a baby wyvern—and nodded fiercely. "I wanna learn real spells. Like... the one with the lightning!"
"Let's… maybe start with basic levitation," Elias muttered. "Preferably not on livestock this time."
"I only made one cow float!"
"And then it exploded."
Rhea giggled behind her hand. "She had a gassy tummy. I helped."
Elias sighed. He'd managed to enroll her under the name "Rhea Lightwood," fabricated all the documentation with the help of a shady scribe named Inkbeard, and convinced the local teacher—Professor Albine, a sweet, middle-aged enchantress with a voice like cinnamon cookies—that Rhea was just a very, very magically gifted half-demon.
Which… wasn't exactly a lie.
Now came the hard part: leaving her.
He knelt beside her. "Remember. No glowing eyes. No floating. No summoning spirits from the abyss."
"What about just a little fire?"
"No!"
She pouted. "Fine."
"Okay. Go be… normal."
Rhea blinked at him. "I don't know what normal is."
"…Neither do I. Just copy the other kids."
She nodded and marched forward like a general heading into war.
Elias watched her disappear into the squat schoolhouse and instantly felt his anxiety congeal into a lump of hot, swirling dread. He gave it ten minutes before someone cried, combusted, or summoned an elder being by accident.
Inside, the classroom was a cozy chaos of children, chalk dust, and minor enchantments gone wrong.
A small boy was clinging to the ceiling thanks to a miscast gravity spell. A girl was sobbing because her hair turned into spaghetti. A teacher with kind eyes and the patience of a mountain was gently correcting a third student's pronunciation of illumina, not ill-lunch-na, which apparently summoned glowing sandwiches.
Rhea took one look and grinned.
This… felt right.
She slid into her seat, a little too aware of the stares. The other kids were whispering.
"Is that a demon?"
"She's got weird eyes."
"She's kinda cool."
One brave boy leaned toward her. "I'm Garret. I can make frogs dance. Wanna see?"
Rhea lit up. "YES."
Five minutes later, Professor Albine had to pry the frog chorus off the ceiling.
Meanwhile, Elias spent the entire day pacing back and forth outside, muttering potential emergency phrases under his breath.
"If she burns anything, say it was an illusion spell gone wrong. If she starts floating again, faint. If someone questions her birth record, fake a coughing fit and run—"
"Elias."
He jumped. Guildmaster Tyrin stood behind him, arms folded, clearly unimpressed.
"Shouldn't you be working?"
"I'm… supporting the education of my extremely small, extremely volatile ward."
Tyrin stared at him. "You look like a worried chicken."
"That's because I'm about to lay an anxiety egg."
Tyrin sighed. "She'll be fine."
"You don't know her."
"I've met her. I've also met you, and somehow you're the bigger disaster."
"Thanks."
Back in class, Rhea was in her element.
Levitation? Easy.
Basic shield spell? Done.
Lighting a candle with focus magic? She accidentally lit ten. And the teacher's wig.
But socially?
That was harder.
During lunch, she sat alone with her bread and jam. The other kids kept glancing at her but didn't come close.
She didn't understand why. She'd done everything Elias said. She smiled, she didn't summon hellfire, and she even shared her enchanted lollipop with the girl who smelled like flowers.
But still…
She stared down at her food. Quiet. Still.
Then the chair beside her scraped.
Garret sat down with a big grin. "Wanna see my frogs again?"
Rhea's heart lifted. "Yes, please!"
Soon, a few others joined. One even gave her half of their cookie.
By the end of lunch, she had a tiny crowd listening to her very creative retelling of how she and Elias "accidentally robbed a cabbage cart."
(Which wasn't entirely false.)
When Elias came to pick her up, he braced for flames.
Instead, he saw Rhea sprint out the door, covered in glitter, smiling so wide he thought her face might crack.
"UNCLE ELIAS!"
He knelt, arms open. "Hey, firebug. You survive?"
She tackled him with a hug. "It was AWESOME. We did spell games! And Garret has frogs! And there was a snack table with actual floating juice!"
"That… sounds chaotic."
"It was! I LOVED IT."
He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Proud of you."
She grinned, eyes glowing faintly—but only a little.
Professor Albine appeared at the doorway, adjusting her slightly burned cloak. "She's… a unique child. Brilliant. I've never seen such magical control. Or spontaneous combustion."
Elias winced. "Should I apologize now or later?"
"Now would be nice."
"Sorry."
Albine sighed. "Just… maybe send her with a note next time."
"Can do."
As they walked home, Rhea chattered endlessly, her words bouncing like a runaway spell.
Elias listened, letting the warmth of her excitement soothe his own fears. Maybe… just maybe… she could live a semi-normal life.
They reached the apartment. He let her unlock the door with a basic mana key—she insisted on practicing.
It sparked. A flower bloomed from the lock.
"I was aiming for a click," she mumbled.
"It's pretty," Elias said. "You've got style."
Later that night, after dinner and another failed attempt at stealthily brushing her fangs, Elias tucked her into bed.
She clutched her frog plushie—now slightly glowing—and looked up at him.
"Uncle Elias?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I can be… not scary?"
He paused. Then knelt, brushing her bangs from her eyes.
"I think you're brave. And kind. And really, really sparkly when excited. You're not scary, Rhea."
She blinked. "Even when I melted the cup?"
"That was impressive, honestly."
She giggled and curled under the blanket.
"Night, Uncle."
"Night, firebug."
As he turned out the lights, Elias glanced at the faint glow from his palm.
The pact mark was stable.
So was she.
For now.
And maybe, just maybe, things were starting to feel… normal.
Which, knowing their luck, meant absolute chaos was on the way.
To be continued…