"If you're going to make an entrance, make it unforgettable."
"And if you can't manage unforgettable, at least go for dramatic."
"If you can't make it dramatic, then don't make an entrance at all—muahaha," Lord Canning declared, clearly pleased with his perfectly timed intervention.
"What?!" Annabeth blurted, still trying to catch her breath. It was typical of him to turn every serious moment into his personal spectacle.
"If you're going to make a—"
"No…" Annabeth cut him off, wheezing between words. "I got you the first time!" She leaned forward, hands on her knees, gulping air like it was a lifeline.
"You were watching and waiting just to make some grand entrance?" she finally managed, glaring at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance.
"No," Canning replied, his tone dripping with mock innocence. "I just happened to arrive in time to see you about to get plummeted by that ball." He casually gestured toward the rubber ball, now bearing a distinct gray imprint of his hand.
"I-I had it under control," Annabeth protested weakly, knowing full well it was a lie.
"With those tiny arms? Suuuuure," he retorted, his words hitting a particularly sore spot.
Annabeth threw him a look that perfectly encapsulated both wounded pride and silent reprimand.
"Kyeuk!" Canning flinched dramatically. "D-Don't look at me like that. I should be thanked—no, worshipped! For I, Uncle Canning, saved your life. Muahahaha!"
"You won't get either from me," Annabeth muttered, crossing her arms. She had never been in the mood for his ridiculous humor and definitely wasn't now.
"Meh, I don't need them," Canning replied with an exaggerated pout that was, frankly, more disturbing than his usual smug grin. "I'm getting paid to train you, after all."
Annabeth sighed, giving him an incredulous look as he turned on his heel, already preparing to leave.
"On to the next step of training," he called back over his shoulder. "Get enough rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
He offered no feedback on her progress or any acknowledgment of her hard-fought achievement. Not that Annabeth was surprised—Canning had a talent for keeping her on edge. She suspected he knew every detail of her progress anyway, likely through Menzine's detailed letters. She just counted herself lucky he hadn't teased her about getting knocked out by the ball again.
As he reached the door, Annabeth couldn't help herself. "Can I at least know what I'll be doing tomorrow? In case I need to set my affairs in order?"
"Working on those tiny arms," Canning replied with a grin that promised nothing good. "You might die still, so, you know, do what you have to do."
Annabeth groaned, her frustration evident. "Played right into that one, didn't I?"
"Yep."
***
The next day, Annabeth stepped into the dining room to find Lord Canning seated comfortably at the head of an elongated mahogany table, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen. Gold-trimmed curtains, fully drawn back, allowed the morning sunlight to flood the room with enough radiance to overwhelm even the most stubborn shadows. The room was grand yet cozy, with a high ceiling adorned by an intricate wooden lattice design and a slowly rotating ceiling fan. Ornate chandeliers hung further down, their crystals refracting the sunlight into playful splinters of light that danced across the walls.
Canning, dressed in a crisp, tailored black coat with gold embroidery along the lapels and cuffs, sat leisurely with one leg crossed over the other. His polished boots rested lightly against the base of his chair as he enjoyed his breakfast—an array of fruits, pastries, and a steaming cup of coffee. The coat's sharp lines hinted at a military past, and though he was comfortably seated, his posture remained unmistakably disciplined. His red hair was neatly combed back today for some reason.
Menzine, standing dutifully by his side in his ever-immaculate black-and-white butler attire, leaned in attentively as Canning gave him instructions—his words slightly muffled by the food in his mouth. Once the conversation ended, Menzine bowed respectfully and started toward the door. As he passed Annabeth, he offered her a small, polite bow, accompanied by a warm smile, before leaving to carry out his duties.
"Good morning, sweetie," Canning greeted her, his tone unusually cheerful and his smile lacking its typical air of mischief—at least for now.
Annabeth groaned inwardly at his choice of words. "Don't call me sweetie," she replied, her voice flat.
Annabeth wasn't much of a morning person, as most of the staff had come to realize, or rather chose to believe it was so. They attributed her grumpy demeanor to sleepiness rather than attitude—though the latter couldn't be entirely ruled out.
"Munchkin?" Canning teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Over the course of their time together, he had learned how much she despised pet names. Watching her pout was, to him, as rejuvenating as a hot cup of coffee.
"That's even worse."
"Meh... I give up." He raised his hands in mock surrender, though the glimmer in his eyes suggested he wasn't finished yet. In truth, he wondered when he had started thinking of Annabeth as his own kid.
"Today's training will begin soon, so eat quickly, little munchkin," he added, clearly unwilling to let go of the nickname.
He reached down and retrieved two long boxes from beneath the table, placing them side by side. One was crafted from polished wood, its surface gleaming with a lacquered finish, while the other was made of matte black metal, its edges adorned with elaborate golden filigree. The boxes looked like royal artifacts, each more extravagant than the last, radiating an aura of prestige.
Annabeth's curiosity ignited. She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the mysterious containers. The ornate designs alone made her imagination run wild. What kind of priceless treasures could require such exquisite craftsmanship?
Canning opened each box with deliberate care, avoiding touching the objects inside as though they were sacred relics. Annabeth leaned in, her heart racing with anticipation, her breath caught in her throat.
Inside each box were... open bracelets.
"Once you're done eating, put these on," Canning instructed casually, as if the sight of such mundane-looking items wasn't an enormous letdown.
Annabeth blinked, her excitement evaporating into confusion. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this.
Annabeth was still caught in a euphoric trance despite realizing the contents of the boxes were merely bracelets. The presentation was mesmerizing—each pair nestled in velvet cushions that separated them from their neighbors, giving the illusion of unparalleled value. But the real intrigue lay in the designs inside the bracelets.
The glossy exteriors shimmered under the light, but it was the intricate images on the inner surfaces that captivated her. Each bracelet contained an almost lifelike depiction of an element or phenomenon, as though it held a piece of the world itself. Strangely, there was a pattern: for every pair in the wooden box, a matching pair existed in the metallic box, each mirroring the other's design.
"Pick out four pairs from the wooden box," Canning instructed, breaking her reverie. "Wear one bracelet from each pair on each arm."
Annabeth nodded, her curiosity piqued.
"Then, pick the exact same pairs from the metallic box and wear them on your legs," he continued, gesturing toward the other box.
"When you're done, meet me near the training hole. If you don't know where it is, ask Menzine."
"Training hall?" she asked, confused. She had lived in the mansion for a year and never come across such a room.
Canning paused, smirked, and clarified with deliberate enunciation: "Not hall. Hole. H-O-L-E."
Annabeth stared at him, even more perplexed.
"And no, there isn't a training hall or a hole here," he added with an almost malicious grin. "You'll be digging one."
Before she could ask more, he turned and walked out, offering no explanation about the bracelets' purpose. Canning had a knack for being both cryptic and infuriating at the worst times.
Left alone, Annabeth climbed onto a chair to examine the bracelets more closely. Each image was breathtaking, like tiny, frozen glimpses of nature or power. One pair seemed to hold a roaring fire trapped within, though the flames didn't move. Another looked like water droplets suspended in time, glittering as though perpetually kissed by sunlight.
Her inner child, drawn to all things pretty, wanted to claim every pair for herself. Yet she knew better—these weren't mere ornaments. They were tools for her training, and choosing recklessly might have consequences.
With a sigh, she began identifying the elements depicted:
Fire: The glowing flames were unmistakable.
Water: The droplets sparkled like diamonds.
Ice: A frosted pattern shimmered like frozen fractals.
Lightning: Jagged streaks of light crackled across the surface.
Plants: A lush, green tangle of vines seemed to grow within.
Earth: A miniature rock formation stood still as if rooted in the ground.
Poison/Acid: A sickly green fluid oozed across the inside, strangely mesmerizing.
Metal: A polished sheen reflected her face back at her, cold and unyielding.
Beast (Type 1): Faint outlines of various animal shapes, their details elusive.
Beast (Type 2): Sharp claws and feral eyes stared back at her, wild and intimidating.
Light: A soft glow radiated like sunlight through a crack in the clouds.
Darkness: An inky black abyss seemed to pull her gaze inward.
Three bracelets eluded her understanding entirely, their designs too abstract or unfamiliar to classify. Even among those she recognized, the Beast elements were a mystery. She suspected one might summon a creature while the other transformed the wearer into one, but she had no way to confirm.
Annabeth sighed again. Choosing four pairs was an agonizing task—each option seemed critical.
Despite the allure of the beautifully crafted bracelets, Annabeth had to decide which ones would actually benefit her in her training—though she had no idea what that training would even entail, thanks to her frustrating choice of a master. With a frustrated sigh, she scratched her scalp with both hands, cursing Canning under her breath. The man really had a way of driving her up the wall.
After much deliberation, she finally settled on four bracelets: Earth, Lightning, Fire, and Darkness.
Earth was a no-brainer—defensive and practical, it was her best bet to survive whatever Canning had planned for her. Lightning, Earth's natural opposite, offered offensive power, a way to strike fast and hard if she needed to defend herself. Fire was versatile, good for both offense and defense, and Darkness… well, Darkness sounded dangerous and mysterious, almost like forbidden magic. She liked the idea of getting as close as she could to something so taboo, especially without facing the risk of execution.
The bracelets, all except Darkness, glowed softly with light. They looked far too large for her arms and legs, but she figured she'd make do. But to her surprise, once she finished putting them on, the bracelets resized themselves to fit her perfectly, shrinking down as though they were tailor-made for her limbs.
"Nice!" she exclaimed, punching the air in a tiny celebration. She was just glad no one was around to see her get caught up in the moment. A little pride in herself wasn't something she usually let on, and the thought of someone witnessing her rare happy moment was enough to make her cringe.
"Very nice indeed, Ms. Annabeth," came a voice from behind her, freezing her in place. A chill ran through her body as her stomach dropped—she immediately wanted to vanish into thin air.
She turned around, her face going bright red. Standing there, looking entirely too pleased with himself, was Menzine, the butler. He was holding a brand-new shovel in one hand and a tightly woven basket slung over his other shoulder, looking every bit the part of a man on a mission.
Annabeth's mind raced, dreading the next words out of his mouth. "What is it this time?" she groaned inwardly.
***
On the clearing past the woods, south of the mansion, a red-faced Annabeth approached Lord Canning, carrying a shovel and a basket.
"Ah," Canning said as she drew closer, "Menzine thoughtfully gave you something to use, I see. What a gentleman he is." He couldn't quite understand why she looked embarrassed, but he knew her day was about to get worse.
Sigh
"Yeah, unlike some uncle of mine who seems to enjoy seeing me suffer," Annabeth shot back. She quickly shook off the embarrassment and returned to her usual self.
"Aww, she called me 'uncle'..." Canning teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. There was no winning in an argument with him, and Annabeth knew it. She gave up. If there was one person who could send her on a never-ending emotional rollercoaster, it was definitely Canning.
"Let's just get started," she muttered in resignation.
"Alright, for the next three years, you'll be digging a hole here," Canning said, pointing to a circle he'd drawn on the ground with a stick. The circle was perfectly drawn, with a diameter of seven meters.
"What?!" Annabeth exclaimed, stunned. She had anticipated digging, but the idea of it taking three years was absolutely shocking. It sounded like slavery.
"I know, right? Why would anyone want a massive hole here?" Canning teased, fully aware she was reacting to the three-year timeline. He'd had the same reaction when he began his own training under his master.
"You see, the thing is, I need a—"
"What do you mean three years?!" Annabeth cut in, clearly not in the mood for his jokes.
"Three years? Uh... 36 months?" Canning pressed, unrelenting.
He was the type to stretch a joke to the point of almost breaking before getting serious. To Annabeth, he was the embodiment of annoyance. She fantasized about silencing him—using her bare hands to watch him lose consciousness. He seemed to have a knack for triggering the buried bloodlust she'd kept hidden for years, waiting for the moment when she'd be strong enough to act on it.
"Haha, calm down… little munchkin," Canning grinned, sensing her rising bloodlust, yet remaining confident that she wouldn't be able to act on it. She couldn't.
"Don't call me little munchkin!" Annabeth snapped.
"Okay, okay. But first, you need to let me explain, so calm down... munchkin," he teased again, clearly enjoying himself.
"I'm not saying you'll be digging every day," he continued, "you'll alternate between digging and four other tasks based on the bracelets you've chosen. This only applies to weekdays, so you get weekends off." He briefly glanced at her bracelets, and though his expression didn't change, his brow furrowed just slightly. He wasn't too concerned with three of her choices, but the darkness bracelet was another matter.
There was something deep and dark within Annabeth that bothered him. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, but whenever it surfaced, it gave him an unsettling feeling. He often tried to provoke it by annoying her, but it never fully manifested.
He had his suspicions—he just didn't know the answers. So he traveled, seeking out psychic-type magicians who could provide insight. Finding them wasn't easy. Some were hidden in cults, others lived in remote, secluded places. It could take weeks just to locate them.
When he did find one, he didn't even need to explain his problem. They already knew, thanks to their magical abilities. But even they couldn't give him answers. All they said was that something inside Annabeth was like a void—an intangible, tangible darkness locked away deep within her. They advised him not to worry for now, since she seemed to have it under control, but Canning knew that by the time he'd need to worry, it might already be too late.
He hadn't told anyone about this—not even Annabeth. To everyone in the mansion, he just joked that she was a little strange. Only Menzine knew about his travels, but even he didn't know the full story. His master was looking for Siers—psychic-type magicians—to prevent some calamity, but Canning had never asked for details. If it were important, his master would tell him.
The reason he hadn't told Annabeth what each bracelet meant was simple: the elements would call out to her based on her nature and desires. What Annabeth thought was a choice was simply her responding to the pull of the bracelets. Canning had intentionally removed the air bracelet from the box, knowing it would resonate most strongly with her, as wind magic was her innate power.
In another sense, she had chosen earth to defend herself against the mysterious man's deadly blows, lightning for more offensive power than wind could offer, fire to combine with wind magic for fusion potential, and lastly, darkness, driven by her deep-seated desire to cause pain and anguish.
But Canning only understood part of it. Earth for defense, lightning for offense, fire for fusion with wind—he figured the darkness bracelet was a result of what was lurking within her. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't fully aware of what was happening either.
When he saw the darkness bracelets on her arms and legs, his playful demeanor shifted to something more serious. The rules of Tier 0 training strictly forbade interfering with a student's choices, except for removing the bracelet tied to their innate magic. Fate was unforgiving, and any attempts to alter it would bring catastrophic consequences.
He was concerned, but there was nothing he could do. His only hope was that Annabeth could keep the darkness under control and prevent the dark magic from unleashing it.
His expression darkened as he continued explaining the training rules.
"Each month, you'll only be allowed to remove the bracelets once, for one day... and it will also be the only day you can use magic," Canning said.
"These bracelets are highly magical items. Don't worry about cleaning the skin underneath; they won't harm or affect the skin in any way. But they do take away your ability to use magic, so every task you do will be accomplished through physical strength alone," he explained. He would have relished in teasing Annabeth about this, but the seriousness had overtaken him.
Annabeth noticed the change in his mood.
"This is Tier 0 training," he added, "where you temporarily become a non-magician."
"But, of course, there's one incredible benefit... your body will begin to accept the elements in those bracelets as your innate magic. Do you understand? The elemental magic from the four bracelets you're wearing will eventually come naturally to you, just like wind magic does—but that's after three years of wearing them." His mood deepened further as he said this, realizing that even darkness magic would become part of her innate powers.
"I get the bracelets part… but what about the digging?" Annabeth asked, her curiosity piqued by the mention of the task.
"That's for your tiny arms," Canning responded, flashing her a small smile.
"Goddamn it," she feigned frustration, though she couldn't help but smile a little too. There was something about seeing Canning less gloomy that brought a flicker of happiness to her—just a little. Wait… Could she actually care for him? The thought was a bit unsettling.
"Yeah, you fell right into that one," Canning chuckled.
Annabeth quickly dismissed the thought. She didn't care for him. Or at least, she told herself she didn't as she laughed along.
"Lastly, during these next three years, no one should touch your bracelets while you're wearing them," Canning said, getting back to the details of the bracelets.
"Why?" Annabeth asked, her usual "resting bitch face" back in place.
Canning walked up to her, revealing a small white box with golden decorations. It looked similar to the long box that had held the bracelets earlier. He opened it, revealing two pairs of bracelets, all the same design, cushioned in velvet. They had the same glossy sheen as the other bracelets, but this time, their interiors were faintly cloudy in places, while the rest remained transparent.
"Pick up one of these bracelets and tell me how its weight compares to the ones you're wearing," he instructed.
The bracelets looked as light as the ones she wore. But when Annabeth picked one up, she was surprised to find that, despite its appearance, it was heavy.
"It's heavier than all the bracelets I'm wearing combined!" she exclaimed.
Canning smiled at her shocked expression. "It's an air element bracelet," he said, "and that's the element you're most attuned to."
"Now, watch what happens when I touch it." Canning extended his hand and laid a finger on the bracelet she was holding.
Instantly, the bracelet dropped with a heavy thud. Annabeth was caught off guard by the sudden change in weight, struggling to hold onto it. She was astonished by how quickly it had become so heavy.
"Now you understand, right?" Canning said, bending down to pick up the bracelet effortlessly with one hand. "If someone more attuned to an element touches that element's bracelet, it becomes heavier, and the effect lasts for 24 hours before resetting."
Annabeth had never truly understood how strong Canning was until now. She'd seen him stop a rubber ball with a single hand, but this was a whole different level of strength. She also realized that if Canning had undergone this training, air magic was one of his innate abilities. Then, something clicked.
"Does that mean that the more I attune to these bracelets..." she started to ask.
"The heavier they become, yes," he confirmed, cutting off her question. Annabeth understood the implication immediately.
The heavier the bracelets became, the more sluggish her body would be. The additional weight would make even the simplest tasks harder to manage. Exercise would become a constant part of her life just to maintain her strength. And the digging? That was just the beginning. Every time she attuned further to the bracelets, the physical strain would intensify. This training was shaping up to be far worse than she'd anticipated—it was grueling, relentless, and seemingly designed to break her.
Canning's eyes glinted with something unreadable, but his smile was faint and weary, like he too understood the magnitude of what lay ahead.
"You might want to get started on that digging now," he said lightly, though his tone was more somber than it had been. He turned and began walking away, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He walked away, looking like he was not enjoying this moment as much as Annabeth thought he would. He seemed to be lost in his thoughts about something. Was he worried about her?
Annabeth shook the thought out of her head knowing that she could only speculate, hitting the shovel into the ground to initiate what would be part of her life for the next three years.