The arrival of Sophie changed everything. There was no longer just the hum of daily life, but a constant buzz of excitement and joy that filled the house. It was a different kind of busy now. From early morning until late at night, the sounds of a newborn filled the air. Sophie was always in need of attention—her cries for milk, her sleepy coos, the occasional whimper when she was uncomfortable. But with each little cry, there was also the opportunity for a new kind of connection. I was no longer just Noah; I was a big brother.
I spent a lot of time playing with her, though at times it felt like I was more of a helper than a sibling. I'd rock her to sleep when she was fussy, or cheer her on as she learned to crawl and eventually walk. It was incredible to witness the small milestones—her first steps, her first words, the way she gazed at the world with wide, curious eyes. Despite the constant demands on our time, it felt like the house was filled with an overwhelming sense of warmth. There was love in every room, every corner, even when Sophie was crying and demanding attention.
But beneath the surface of daily life, I could feel the weight of the world pressing in. I knew that the world around us would one day change dramatically, and that our family, like everyone else, would be affected. There would be wars, invasions, and conflicts that tore nations apart. This world—our world was a place where threats loomed large, whether from the other species, magical beasts, or the dark hearts of powerful people. From what I had learned in the novel The World of Magic and Sword, I knew the catalyst for all these events would come with the opening of the academy. It would mark the beginning of a new era of danger for everyone.
The city around us was alive with celebration. Recently, the Kingdom of Muran had celebrated the fifth birthday of the princess. I had learned, in my reading, that she would grow up to become one of the central figures in the world's future, a key player in the coming conflict. Though I didn't fully understand what would happen, I knew she would be involved in the struggles that lay ahead. But for now, the celebrations were just another sign of how peaceful the world seemed on the surface.
As for me, I spent most of my time honing my skills. I had learned that I had an affinity for psychokinesis, a power that allowed me to move objects with my mind. But it wasn't just about moving things around—it was about controlling them, understanding them, and eventually evolving my powers. I practiced moving multiple objects at once, sensing their presence and understanding their weight, texture, and composition. I could feel the subtle difference between different materials and the way they reacted to my ability.
Sometimes, I wondered what more I could do with my powers. I could already manipulate small objects, but I knew I could grow stronger. Some people, like water manipulators, could one day turn their water into ice. I had no idea how far my abilities could take me, but I was determined to find out.
Time Skip
Two years passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. I was eight now, and Sophie, at two, was already walking and babbling away in her own little language. It was amazing how quickly she grew. The girl who had once been a tiny infant was now a little child, running around and mimicking the things I said. Though her words were often garbled and playful, I could understand what she meant. I spent a lot of time with her, teaching her simple things and making her laugh with games we had invented. She was my little shadow, and I enjoyed it more than I expected.
The days had flown by, mostly consumed with practicing my abilities, spending time with Sophie, and watching my family grow. The world outside seemed quiet, but I knew that peace wouldn't last forever. The academy would open soon, and that would be the beginning of something much larger than any of us could comprehend.
As the time went on, I continued to train my psychokinesis. I could now move objects with even greater precision, and I began to experiment with more complicated tasks. I could move things without even thinking about it—lifting a spoon, then a chair, and then a small box—all at once. I could feel the subtle vibrations in the air when I reached out with my mind. It was like every object had its own presence, its own life force, waiting to be understood.
But there was still so much more to do. My skills were growing, but I couldn't afford to stop. There would be no time for hesitation in the future, and I needed to be ready for whatever came next. I could already sense that there was something more within me, something that hadn't fully emerged yet. I just needed to keep practicing.
The Reveal
It was during dinner one evening when I decided to show my parents just how far I had come. Sophie had finished her meal and was playing with the little toys my mother had set out for her, and the house felt warm and comfortable. It was just a typical family evening, but I felt something building inside me. It was time.
I cleared my throat. "Mom, Dad," I said, and both of them looked up, curiosity in their eyes. "There's something I need to show you."
My parents exchanged a glance, but they both smiled, intrigued. Sophie looked up from her toys, sensing that something unusual was about to happen.
With a deep breath, I extended my mind, focusing on the spoon sitting in front of me on the table. Slowly, it began to rise into the air, hovering just inches above the surface.
My parents stared in disbelief as the spoon floated, weightless, in midair.
My father's eyes widened, and his mouth parted in surprise. "Noah…" he breathed, clearly astonished.
I let the spoon hover for a moment longer before lowering it gently back onto the table.
Sophie, who had been watching intently, let out a delighted squeal. "Magic!" she clapped her tiny hands together.
My father's voice was filled with wonder. "But you're so young. This... this isn't something commoners usually have."
My mother wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. "You're a genius, Noah," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We're so proud of you."
The excitement in the room was contagious. It was rare for someone like me, a commoner, to develop such abilities, and the realization of it filled my parents with hope. They couldn't have been more thrilled to know that their son had potential beyond what they had ever imagined.
Sophie, oblivious to the weight of the moment, clapped again and giggled. "Noah's magic!"
In that moment, I felt a surge of gratitude. I wasn't just developing my abilities for myself—I was doing it for my family, too. They believed in me, and that made all the difference.
I had a long way to go, but I was ready. The future was waiting, and I would be ready for it when it came.