[Kai's POV]
1976
My sister and I turned four years old. I'm locked in my room, listening to the sounds of everyone celebrating Josette's birthday.
These past four years have been hell; I've been mistreated and ignored by everyone in the coven except my mother.
The rest of them only talk to me to insult me. "Freak," "Monster," and other things.
That son of a bitch Joshua and the other members of the Gemini Coven have even made my twin sister, Josette, treat me like a monster—even when my mom tries to convince her otherwise.
That damn old man has already brainwashed her.
I slipped out of the room silently.
My steps were light, almost automatic.
The Gemini Coven's library was enormous. Much larger than any library I'd ever visited in my past life.
Dark wooden bookshelves covered practically every wall. Ancient grimoires shared space with rolled-up scrolls, books written in Latin, Greek, and languages I didn't even recognize.
The smell of aged paper and ink was strangely comforting.
I smiled.
While everyone else saw that place as a repository of knowledge… I saw a treasure trove.
I ran my hand along the spines of the books until I found the one I was looking for.
"Fundamentals of Magical Runes."
I picked up the volume carefully and sat in the farthest corner of the library, then opened the first page.
"Runes are conduits capable of storing, amplifying, or redirecting magic…" My eyes scanned each line quickly.
Even after all these years, I still felt the same satisfaction when learning something new.
I'd been visiting that library since before I learned to walk; as soon as I learned to crawl, I discovered that place.
Having memories of my past life made everything absurdly easier.
While an ordinary baby could barely understand words, I already knew how to read. At first, it was complicated.
The books were huge and heavy. Turning a single page required almost all my strength.
But I had time. Plenty of time.
I spent long months just figuring out where each section of the library was located. Then I started with the most basic books.
History of Magic, magical theory, runes, herbology, rituals, potions (usually called elixirs), and enchantments.
Whatever my hands could reach, I read. It didn't matter if I understood only half of it.
The next day I'd go back and read it again, and again. Until I understood.
The coven members would never have imagined that the "monster" they ignored and mistreated spent hours studying while they practiced spells.
No one suspected a four-year-old child. Much less a siphoner.
They believed I was incapable of using magic normally. And they were right… to a certain extent.
Even though I don't generate my own magic and need to absorb it from another source to cast any spell… there was a huge difference between not possessing magic… and not understanding it.
Knowledge was never limited by one's "mana."
I turned a few more pages. That section of the book discussed runic circles.
Interesting…
A single rune did very little. Two could reinforce each other. Five created a matrix.
Ten…
They were already capable of sustaining entire rituals, depending on the ritual.
I mentally noted every detail. My memory was excellent.
Maybe because of my adult mind, or my obsession.
Probably both. I closed the book for a moment.
If I ever managed to obtain a constant source of magic… I'd already know exactly what to do with it.
I smiled slightly.
They could keep calling me a freak. They could keep ignoring me.
They could even believe that I'd never be a real wizard.
It didn't matter. While they wasted years relying solely on their own talent…
I was accumulating knowledge. And knowledge is a weapon.
Perhaps the most dangerous of all.
1979
Seven years old.
My room smelled of mold and chalk. The walls were cold, and it was so quiet that I could hear my own thoughts.
Outside, the Parker house thrived on the magic that kept it hidden—spells of illusion that distorted humans' vision, making the other houses of the coven disappear, and runic barriers that prevented any supernatural being from entering without permission.
I knew every line of those barriers. I'd spent years observing, memorizing, and drawing the symbols on my bedroom walls with chalk and the shoe polish I found in the shadows.
That morning, I decided to test a smaller version. A pocket-sized barrier. A circle of runes around an object—a ball of paper.
I drew the circle on the floor with precise strokes, using the chalk I kept under my bed frame.
When I finished, I placed the ball in the center and pulled my hand back. I waited. The air around the object seemed to vibrate, as if something invisible were holding the space in place. I stretched out my finger and tried to touch the ball. The tip of my finger met a springy resistance, as if there were a glass wall between us.
It worked.
It wasn't a complete barrier—it wouldn't distort anyone's vision, it wouldn't stop a wizard from entering—but it was a start. A test. Proof that I could create something that worked, even without magic of my own.
I reached out toward the barrier again, but instead of trying to touch the object, I left my palm open, as if I were waiting for something to fall. I closed my eyes and concentrated. It wasn't a spell. It wasn't a rune. It was just… will.
I felt something pull.
At first, it was like a shiver at my fingertips. Then, like a trickle of running water seeping into my skin. The barrier began to waver. The glow of the chalk grew fainter. The air around the paper ball lost its vibration. And then, suddenly, the resistance vanished. The barrier broke.
I opened my eyes. The chalk circle had been erased. The paper ball was on the floor, just as before. But inside me… there was something different. Something warm. Something alive. As if I'd swallowed a burning ember and it were burning in my chest.
The feeling was incredible; I finally felt whole. Without the emptiness I'd felt for so long.