Morning arrived over the Duke's castle with a quiet, regal efficiency.
Sunlight spilled through the tall, narrow windows of the guest chamber where Gill had spent a restless night, painting long, golden rectangles across the grey stone floor. Outside, the castle had already begun its daily rhythm. The distant, rhythmic crunch of soldiers marching across the inner courtyard echoed up the walls, punctuated by the clatter of supply wagons and the faint, shrill whistles of stable boys leading the Duke's prized horses out for their morning exercise.
Gill was already awake, sitting on the edge of the oversized bed with his feet dangling a few inches above the rug. He had barely slept four hours. Every time his mind drifted toward unconsciousness, it snapped back to the image of the training yard—the orange flare of the fireball and the way the air had shimmered like a desert mirage.
Mana. The word was no longer just a term from a ledger; it was a challenge. It was the first "law" of this world that he couldn't explain with his old-world physics, and the omission felt like a splinter in his brain.
By the time he joined his parents for breakfast in the great dining hall, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, though his posture remained perfect. The hall was a display of Aurelion's power: long tables of dark, polished oak groaning under the weight of roasted meats, fresh crusty bread, and pastries glazed with a honey so clear it looked like liquid amber.
Gill normally possessed a healthy five-year-old's appetite, but today he chewed his bread with mechanical indifference. Across from him, Art was deep in a discussion with Duke Aurelion about the seasonal tariffs on the eastern harbor. Their voices were low, a rumble of baritones discussing the movement of gold.
The moment Art signaled that the formal meal was concluded, Gill slipped from his seat with a quick, polite bow that barely concealed his impatience. He had only one destination in mind.
He found Lilly exactly where he expected—in the quiet garden courtyard, perched on the marble edge of a fountain. She was tossing small pebbles into the water, watching the ripples expand and intersect with a bored expression.
"Well," she said, not looking up as his footsteps approached, "if it isn't the boy who stares at explosions like they're math problems. Did you solve the fireball yet, Valencrest?"
Gill walked straight up to her, ignoring the teasing. "Show me again. Not the mages—show me your magic."
Lilly stopped tossing pebbles and slowly turned her head, a mischievous glint in her green eyes. "That depends."
Gill narrowed his eyes. "On what? I'm here. I'm asking."
Lilly stood up, brushing the dust and stray moss from her dress. She looked him up and down, then smiled. "You have to play with me first. I've been stuck in this castle with nothing but tutors and guards for two weeks. If I'm going to be your teacher, I want to be entertained."
Gill's jaw tightened. "Playing" was a biological necessity for a child, but for a soul who had already lived a lifetime, it felt like an agonizingly inefficient use of time. "That wasn't part of our discussion yesterday."
"I'm the one with the ice," Lilly replied cheerfully, skipping toward the garden path. "I make the rules. Come on!"
The next hour was a whirlwind of activity that Gill's analytical mind struggled to categorize. Lilly dragged him through the Duke's sprawling "Hedge Maze," a labyrinth of emerald green that felt like a living puzzle. They raced along the high stone catwalks of the inner walls, the wind whipping through their hair as they looked out over the entire province. They even tried to sneak past two veteran guards standing watch at the armory; the soldiers clearly saw them but pretended to be deeply engrossed in a conversation about boot-wax, laughing under their breath as the two children "stealthily" crawled past.
For Lilly, it was pure joy. For Gill, it was a study in movement and geography. But by the time they reached a secluded courtyard tucked behind the castle's chapel, even Gill found himself breathing hard, his face flushed with the exertion.
Lilly stopped in the center of the flagstones and turned around, her hands on her hips. "Alright. You did well. You didn't even complain when you tripped on that root."
"Is it time?" Gill asked, his voice eager despite his fatigue.
Lilly nodded. Her playful demeanor didn't vanish, but it shifted into something more focused. She stepped onto the center of a large, circular stone and raised her right hand.
Gill leaned forward, his eyes wide.
For several seconds, the world remained still. Then, the "shimmer" appeared. It wasn't a visual change at first—it was a change in the vibe of the air. A thin layer of white frost suddenly bloomed on the stone floor beneath Lilly's feet. It didn't fall from the sky; it materialized out of the humidity in the air, spreading outward like crystal spiders racing across the ground.
Within moments, a five-foot circle of stone was encased in a sheet of jagged, translucent ice. A faint, cold mist curled upward from the frozen surface.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, the energy dissipated. The frost began to turn grey and wet as the morning sun hit it. Lilly lowered her hand, looking slightly flushed. "I'm not very good yet," she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. "My tutor says my 'output' is still too low."
Gill didn't answer. He was on his knees at the edge of the ice, his hand hovering just an inch above the frozen surface. He felt the cold radiating off it. This was real. This was a physical change in the environment achieved without a heat pump or a chemical refrigerant.
He grabbed Lilly's sleeve, startling her. "How? What was the sensation? What did you feel the moment before the frost appeared?"
Lilly blinked, taken aback by his intensity. "It… it feels warm, Gill."
"Warm?" Gill's brain recoiled. "Ice is the absence of heat. How can the feeling be warm?"
"I don't know the 'why'!" Lilly said, pulling her sleeve back. "It just is. Inside here," she pointed to her solar plexus, "it feels like I'm holding a warm, smooth stone from a river. When I want the spell to happen, I push that warmth down into my hand. But it's not hot warmth. It's… a flow."
Gill stared at her palm for a moment, then slowly sat down right there on the cooling stone. He closed his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest.
"What are you doing now?" Lilly asked, sitting cross-legged across from him.
"Trying to find the stone," Gill whispered.
At first, his mind defaulted to its old habits. He began to build a mental map of his own nervous system. He searched for bio-electric anomalies. He tried to calculate the potential energy stored in his own cells. He imagined the air as a pressurized fluid, looking for the "gradient" Lilly had mentioned.
Nothing. The more he analyzed, the more silent his "senses" became.
Stop, he told himself. Thinking is the noise. The feeling is the signal.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. He consciously relaxed his shoulders. He stopped trying to "calculate" the room and instead tried to "be" the room. He let go of the equations for thermodynamics. He let go of the conservation of energy. He ignored the "how" and focused only on the "is."
The courtyard became unnaturally still. He could hear the blood rushing in his own ears. He felt the wind brush against his skin.
And then, he felt it.
It wasn't a physical heat like a fire. It was a subtle, thrumming vibration in the center of his chest, buried beneath layers of logic and thought. It was a tiny, glowing ember of presence. It felt ancient, steady, and remarkably warm—like a sun-drenched stone hidden in deep grass.
Gill's eyes snapped open. The connection shattered instantly, the warmth vanishing back into the darkness of his subconscious.
He sat there, gasping slightly as if he had just surfaced from a deep lake. His heart was racing.
Lilly was leaning closer, her green eyes wide with genuine surprise. "Well? Did you see a math problem?"
Gill looked down at his small, trembling hands. He could still feel the phantom "ghost" of that warmth. For the first time, he didn't care about the physics. He didn't care about the formulas.
"...I felt it," he whispered, a slow, triumphant smile spreading across his face. "Lilly, I felt the current."