Lucius woke to a voice that made the whole house tremble — as if an earthquake had struck.

  “LUCIUSSS! Wake up! Breakfast is ready!”

  He groaned, turned under his quilt, then dragged himself out of bed. Pulling on his slippers, he hopped down the stairs, one step at a time.

  “Thanks for shouting, Mom,” he muttered, his face still half-asleep.

  “No problem,” Frigg replied smoothly, amusement curling at her lips.

  In her hands, a pan hissed softly — pale circles of batter bubbling as their edges curled and browned in the heat. The smell hit him first — butter and warmth. And then he saw them. His eyes widened. Pancakes. His favorite.

  Lucius ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “Are you making pancakes?” he asked, voice trembling with joy.

  “Yes, you crybaby,” she teased. “Now set the table before I burn them all.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Lucius barked, grinning as he rushed to obey.

  Soon, the table was set and breakfast ready. The golden stack steamed in the center, but when Lucius reached for one—

  “Not so fast, young man.”

  Frigg caught his wrist with a mock glare, her smile turning devilish.

  “Vegetables first. Then, maybe, I’ll consider letting you have pancakes.”

  Lucius sighed in defeat.

  “Okay, Mom.” He poked at his greens like they were the enemy.

  As they ate, Frigg’s voice softened.

  “So… what kind of staff do you want for yourself, Lucius?”

  He perked up instantly.

  “A big one. And a cool one.”

  Frigg smirked.

  “Of course. I should’ve guessed.” She murmured under her breath, “Boys and their weapons…”

  When they’d finished, the quiet rhythm of morning returned.

  They dressed in silence — Lucius fastening his small cloak, its hem brushing his knees, while Frigg slipped into her long coat and tied her hair back. The faint chill of morning pressed against the door as they prepared to leave.

  A knock sounded.

  Frigg opened the door to find Melan?e and Reid waiting outside.

  “Melan?e! What a surprise.” Frigg smiled. “What brings you here?”

  Melan?e looked tired but managed a polite smile.

  “You’re heading to the city, right? Reid needs to choose his weapon for school… I was hoping he could go with you.”

  “Of course,” Frigg said warmly. “It would be a pleasure to help him pick one.”

  Melan?e’s brow furrowed. “Oh, thank you — I’ll repay you once—”

  Frigg waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Melan?e exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Frigg. And you—” she looked at her son, “—don’t cause trouble, okay?”

  “I won’t!” Reid said brightly, his grin wide and uncontainable.

  And with that, they stepped out together — Frigg, Lucius, and Reid — the road ahead gleaming beneath the morning sun.

  Before heading to the city, they stopped by the caravan station at the edge of Priscilla. A single carriage stood waiting, its dark wood polished to a dull shine. Beside it, a man in a neat black coat adjusted his monocle, his tall hat shadowing a face lined more by habit than age.

  He turned as they approached, his smile polite and practiced.

  “Ah, Ms. Martyra. These little fellows must be your sons.”

  Frigg smiled faintly. “This one with the cloak is my son, Lucius. And the other, standing like a young knight, is Reid — the eldest son of my dear friend, Melan?e Corvane.”

  “Corvane…” the man mused, tapping his chin. “Ah, yes — the lovely woman with long, silky brown hair. I remember her now. Graceful, always smiling.”

  “That’s her,” Frigg said warmly, though her eyes softened with a hint of memory. “We’d like to visit Promia, Sir Duston. Could you take us there?”

  “Of course, Ms. Martyra,” Duston replied with a courteous nod. “Hop in. You’ll reach Promia before noon if the roads stay kind.”

  The three climbed aboard, the wooden steps creaking under their feet. As the horses stirred and the caravan began to roll forward, Priscilla slowly faded behind them — a quiet village shrinking into the gold of morning.

  The road unfurled before them like a painting born from the hands of a patient naturalist.

  Lakes shimmered beneath the morning light; tall, solemn trees stood like guardians along the path. The sun spilled through their branches in waves of gold, and the air carried the songs of birds — melodies so graceful they might have been written by the great musicians of old.

  They rode for nearly two hours before a great gate rose before them, its archway etched with silver letters:

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  “Welcome to Promia.”

  The caravan slowed to a halt. Frigg, Lucius, and Reid stepped down the wooden stairs, the scent of earth and smoke meeting them as their boots touched the ground.

  “Welcome to Promia,” said Duston, straightening his hat. “I’ll be here at four o’clock this afternoon, as you requested, Ms. Martyra.”

  “Thank you, Sir Duston. We’ll make sure to be here by then,” Frigg replied with a polite smile.

  They turned toward the city square. Promia stretched out before them — vast and resplendent. Tall marble towers gleamed in the sunlight, their windows catching the day’s fire. Rows of buildings lined the streets with near-perfect precision, as though the entire city had been drawn by a careful hand. The air hummed with life: merchants calling, carriages rolling, the chatter of countless footsteps.

  But amid all the noise, something stilled them.

  On a raised platform near the square’s center stood a man cloaked in white, his voice carrying through the crowd. His hands were raised to the heavens, his tone deep and reverent as he spoke words that seemed to burn through the air:

  “O’ Shenrog, Holy Dragon of the Pure Flame,

  Cleanse the air I breathe, cleanse the soul I bear.

  Let no hatred dwell within these veins,

  Let your flame burn falsehood from my heart.

  May my spirit rise, white and unbound,

  As your wings once rose above the skies.”

  The crowd bowed their heads in silence. Even the wind seemed to pause.

  Lucius and Reid stood still, watching — the fire of the man’s prayer flickering in their young eyes.

  Without giving them a moment to take in what they’d just seen, Frigg placed a hand on both boys’ shoulders.

  “Here we are, boys,” she said with a smile. “This is where the magic begins.”

  Lucius and Reid leaned forward, expecting a vast marketplace filled with towering shops and enchanted signs blazing through the air. Instead, what greeted them was… modest. Six small storefronts lined the cobbled street — three to the left, three to the right — their faded banners fluttering in the wind.

  Frigg’s eyes sparkled with pride. “Isn’t this wonderful, boys?”

  Lucius and Reid exchanged a silent glance. Then, in perfect unspoken agreement, they nodded and forced matching smiles.

  “Yeah,” they said together, “it’s great!”

  “Good!” Frigg laughed. “Let’s start with you, Reid. What weapon are you choosing?”

  Reid stood tall, puffing his chest. “I want a nunchaku.”

  “A nunchaku?” Frigg arched a brow, amused. “Well, let’s see what we can find.”

  They entered a narrow shop with dust-speckled windows and a creaky door. But the moment they stepped inside, both boys froze in awe.

  The interior stretched impossibly wide — rows upon rows of weapons glimmered under golden light. Blades, bows, staves, axes — thousands of them.

  “Whoa,” Reid whispered, his eyes shining. “This place is so cool.”

  Lucius didn’t speak, but his wide-eyed stare said the same.

  Reid darted off toward a rack lined with nunchakus. There were wooden ones, steel ones, golden ones — some bladed, others not. Yet one in particular caught his eye: a silver-edged, twin-bladed chain nunchaku that gleamed like moonlight on water.

  He reached out, but before his fingers touched it, a voice rose beside him.

  “Careful there, little sir.”

  Reid jumped — a man had appeared out of nowhere, smiling warmly. He was a young gentleman with dark hair, sharp features, and the calm poise of someone who belonged among weapons.

  “Hello,” Reid said, still startled. “I was looking for a nunchaku… I really like this one.” He pointed at the silver weapon.

  “Ah, that one,” the man said, glancing at it. “A fine choice — it’s called Genusrosa. Arrived just this morning.” His tone softened. “But don’t you think it’s a bit big for someone your size?”

  Reid grinned. “I can handle it. Hehehe.” Then, turning to Frigg, “Can we get it, Ms. Frigg?”

  Frigg hesitated, studying the weapon — and the proud grin on Reid’s face. “If that’s what you want,” she said finally, “then yes.”

  Reid nearly jumped from joy. They purchased the nunchaku, and the boy clutched it like treasure as they stepped back into the street.

  “Well then,” Frigg said, turning to Lucius. “Your turn.”

  They crossed the square to another shop — larger on the outside, though when they entered, Lucius realized the space inside was smaller than a sitting room.

  “Welcome to my humble inn of magic!” a voice sang.

  A woman stood behind the counter — violet hair tied in a loose knot, a few strands falling over her small round glasses. Her eyes glimmered with strange cheer.

  “Hello,” Frigg said politely. “This little mage here is my son, Lucius. We’re here to find him his first staff.”

  “A staff, hmm?” the woman grinned, her tone halfway between delight and madness. “Ah, I remember the first time I got mine… thrilling, truly thrilling!”

  She reached under the counter and placed a glass sphere upon it. The orb shimmered — so bright and reflective that Lucius thought he could see right through to his own soul.

  “Place your hand here,” she said. “The orb will reveal which staff suits you best.”

  Lucius hesitated. He had hoped to choose for himself, but he did as she said. The moment his fingers touched the sphere, light poured from it — threads of white and violet swirling together. The woman closed her eyes, placing her hand beside his.

  Her expression changed. The joy slipped from her face, replaced by curiosity — and something else, something almost wary.

  “You can remove your hand now, Lucius,” she said quietly.

  Lucius stepped back. The woman stood still for a long moment, then turned and rummaged through the shelves until she found what she was looking for — a black-and-purple staff, its head crowned by a glass orb clasped in a hand-shaped frame.

  “This one,” she said at last. “It’s the right match.”

  Lucius took it. The weight fit perfectly in his grasp — firm, balanced, alive. The glass sphere pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. His lips curled into a small smile.

  “I like it,” he said simply. “Can we get it, Mom?”

  Frigg nodded, proud. “Of course, Lucius.”

  “Then let me prepare it for you,” the woman said with a graceful bow.

  They paid and turned to leave. As Lucius reached the door, something made him stop. A shiver crawled down his neck — that same unease from before.

  He turned back for just a second.

  The woman was standing motionless behind the counter, staring at the glass orb on her desk. Her hands trembled slightly. The wild joy from before had vanished, replaced by a frozen, silent fear.

  Lucius hesitated, then turned away quickly, saying nothing to Frigg or Reid as they stepped out into the sunlight.

  They still had a few hours before four o’clock, so Frigg decided to let the boys enjoy the city a little.

  They found a small pizzeria tucked between two tall stone buildings, its red sign flickering in the afternoon sun, reading Pizza Speranza. Inside, the air was warm and filled with the smell of baked dough and melted cheese. Lucius and Reid sat by the window, watching the crowds drift by as they devoured slice after slice.

  Lucius spoke with his mouth full. “This is way better than the food back home!”

  Frigg raised a brow. “Maybe because I’m not the one cooking it.”

  Reid chuckled, nearly choking on his bite.

  When they left the shop, the sound of laughter drew them toward the city square. A traveling circus had set up there — bright tents, music, and the smell of caramel and smoke filled the air. The boys stood wide-eyed as jugglers tossed flames, acrobats spun in the sky, and a magician pulled doves from his hat.

  For a while, time seemed to stretch — the world was color and sound and wonder.

  Then the church bell struck four.

  Frigg glanced at the sky, the clouds gilded by the sinking sun. “Time to go, boys.”

  They made their way back to the gate, where the familiar black caravan waited. Duston was already there, tipping his hat as they approached.

  “Right on time,” he said with a smile. “Let’s get you home before the road forgets the light.”

  The three climbed aboard, the laughter of the circus fading behind them as the wheels began to turn once more.