Since the last event that shook the world, two years have passed.
I am now two years old.
Yeah. I know right.
I am an adult now.
I can do what I want.
My jet-black hair falls messily over my eyes, but I don't care.
It looks cool.
Besides, my golden eyes—just like my dad's—are way more interesting.
So that's why…
I am gonna do the most important thing ever.
The thing no one in this mansion can stop me from doing.
The thing that will change EVERYTHING…
"Sneak into the kitchen and steal a pantry!"
I grinned like a villain from those bedtime stories and rubbed my hands together, the perfect image of a master schemer.
Standing behind the kitchen door, I glanced left and right, my eyes darting across the corridor like I was on a top-secret mission.
No one was there.
"Perfect."
With both hands, I grabbed the wooden stool that I had "borrowed" and pushed it toward the door.
The legs scraped against the stone floor, letting out an awful grrrrrk.
Shit.
I froze.
Silence.
I strained my ears for any sound for a moment, but nothing came.
"Close one."
I let out a relieved sigh.
I gave the stool one last shove, and it hit the door with a dull thunk.
I gripped the edges of the stool and climbed up.
My tiny legs wobbled as it creaked under my weight.
"Hold steady."
I whispered to the stool while squinting at the gleaming silver handle above me.
It was the horizontal bar kind—the kind that needed to be pushed down.
Sounds tough... but not to me!
"One… Two… Three!"
I jumped up and stretched my arms toward it, grabbing the handle with all my might.
Putting my weight on it, I pushed down. The handle slid toward one side, giving way with a satisfying click.
"Ha-ha!"
The door creaked open.
I hopped off the stool and peeked inside.
The kitchen was massive, with tall counters that seemed to stretch endlessly.
Pots and pans hung from hooks, gleaming like armor, while the faint smell of chocolate and vanilla floated through the air.
Following the line of that sweet aroma, my eyes locked onto the cake sitting on the table in the center of the room.
The glaze sparkled under the light, the swirls of frosting so perfect they almost looked fake.
This is it.
My promised land.
I stepped inside, my tiny feet making barely a sound on the stone floor.
The table was way taller than me.
Like, Everest tall.
I squinted at it, hands on my hips.
"Okay, cake. You win this round..."
"...or so you thought!"
I cracked my knuckles, a determined grin spreading across my face.
I scanned the room and spotted a small crate against the wall.
Perfect.
I dragged the crate over with a series of strained ooofs and plopped it down next to the table.
Then I grabbed a couple of pots and balanced them on top of the crate. A pan came next.
Finally, I threw on the stool for good measure.
I stepped back and looked at the masterpiece I made proudly.
It wobbled slightly, but I know that this will easily hold.
I climbed up carefully, each step making the tower creak.
The pan shifted slightly under my foot.
'Don't wobble. Don't wobble.'
I prayed silently while climbing.
I reached the top.
The mountain of pots, pans, and the crate swayed beneath me.
"Steady... steady…"
I whispered, clutching the stool like it was the edge of a cliff.
The cake was so close I could smell the chocolatey goodness wafting toward me.
One more stretch.
I leaned forward, my fingers grazing the edge of the plate.
Victory was within my grasp.
"Gotcha!"
But just as my fingertips curled around the cake stand…
Creak.
I froze.
The tower wobbled.
The pots clattered faintly.
"Don't you dare.."
I hissed at the pan under my foot.
The pan dared.
It slipped.
Everything slowed down.
The crate tilted.
The stool buckled.
And me?
I fell, arms flailing like a doomed hero in one of those epic stories.
CRASH! BANG! CLANG!
The sound was deafening, like the entire kitchen had declared war on itself.
Pots and pans scattered everywhere.
A ladle bounced off my head.
I landed on my back, staring at the ceiling.
The cake?
Still on the table.
It felt like it was mocking me with its perfect frosting.
"Stupid cake.."
I mumbled, dazed.
Footsteps thundered down the corridor, growing louder by the second.
Uh-oh.
The door burst open, and a shadow loomed over me.
"Young Master!!"
Edward.
Of course, it had to be him.
His gaze swept over the mess before settling on me, the faint kitchen light catching his silver hair.
His expression didn't change, but the slight twitch of his eyebrow betrayed his disapproval.
I scrambled to my feet, pointing at the cake.
"It's not what it looks like! I can explain!"
Edward crossed his arms, looking every bit like a disappointed schoolteacher.
"Really, young master?" he said with a flat tone.
"It—"
Just before I could dig myself deeper, the sound of the footsteps echoed down the corridor.
and flood of servants poured in.
Every single one froze the moment they saw Edward.
The room plunged into silence.
"Oh no.. It's Sir Edward.."
One of the maids, clutching a broom, said.
"And the young master.. together.."
All of them shuddered collectively.
The head chef, a burly man in his 30s stepped forward with his head lowered.
"M-my lord."
He said while his eyes darted between Edward and me.
"I swear we had no idea this would happen!"
The other staff nodded furiously, as if their lives depended on it.
"Y-yes! The kitchen was locked!"
"How did he even get in?"
Edward's gaze shifted to me, his silver hair gleaming under the light.
"Explain, young master."
"Well.."
I opened my mouth, then paused, glancing at the staff.
"The kitchen door wasn't locked."
Gasps rippled through the room.
"I-I assure you, my lord, the kitchen is always locked!"
The head chef straightened up, looking defensive.
"Really?"
I crossed my arms and tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.
"Then how did I get in?"
Silence.
"H-he must have…"
"Must have what?"
I cut in.
"Picked the lock? Scaled the walls? Teleported?"
More silence.
Edward's gaze shifted back to head chef.
"W-we might have… forgotten… to lock it…"
"So, it's not my fault then, is it?"
The chef's face turned pale.
"N-no, of course not, young master.."
"If anything, this is a security breach. What if someone dangerous got in?"
Edward raised an eyebrow at that, and the chef nearly fainted.
"You're absolutely right, young master."
the chef said, bowing his head rapidly.
"It's… it's entirely our fault."
"Exactly."
I nodded sagely.
"You should be more careful."
"Forgive us, young master!"
"We'll make sure this never happens again!"
"It's all our fault, my lord!"
The staff broke into frantic apologies.
"See? Problem solved."
I turned to Edward, grinning.
Edward's lips twitched slightly, almost like he was suppressing a smile.
"Dismissed."
The staff scurried out of the kitchen, bowing repeatedly on their way out.
"Well played, young master."
"Thanks! I thought so too!"
"Your father will hear of this."
Edward sighed, adjusting his cuffs.
"W-wait! Let's not do anything drastic!"
"Let's not do what?"
The deep, warm voice cut through the room.
I turned to see my father, Magnus Ashenbane, standing in the doorway.
His golden eyes gleamed and his lips curved into a faint smile as he stepped into the kitchen.
"Father!"
I ran toward him and leapt into his arms.
He caught me effortlessly, lifting me up like I weighed nothing.
"Now, what's all this ruckus about, hmm?"
he asked while laughing as he set me on his hip.
"It wasn't my fault!"
I blurted out, pointing accusingly at Edward.
"The door wasn't locked! They admitted it!"
"Is that true?"
Magnus raised an eyebrow while looking at Edward.
"It seems the staff..may have overlooked some security measures."
Edward replied with a flat tone.
"See? I am innocent."
I grinned.
"Innocent, you say?"
Magnus chuckled.
"You're a little glutton, that's what you are." he said, ruffling my hair.
"I just wanted some cake..."
I pouted.
"HAHAHA!"
Magnus's laughter echoed through the kitchen.
"Cake, huh? You're lucky you didn't hurt yourself with that tower of chaos."
He started tickling my sides, making me squeal with laughter.
"No! Stop! Father, no!
I wriggled, trying to escape his grasp, but it was no use.
His grin widened even more.
"Little gluttons get punished with tickles."
His voice was full of laughter, matching mine as I squirmed.
"Uh-hum."
Edward cleared his throat.
"My lord, encouraging this behaviour isn't exact—"
"Oh relax , Edward."
Magnus waved his hand dismissively.
"Let the boy be a boy."
"If you say so, my lord. Though I fear he'll take that as permission for further 'recon missions.'"
Edward sighed while shaking his head slightly.
"Perhaps he will. But even little gluttons need their rest."
Magnus laughed and set me back on the ground.
"It's time for bed, Caelum."
He crouched down to meet my gaze, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead.
"Go on to your room now."
"But the cake—"
"No buts."
He gently nudged me toward the door.
"Tomorrow's another day, my little glutton."
"Fine...."
I sighed dramatically and dragged my feet toward the door.
"Goodnight! Both of you."
"Goodnight, boy."
"Sleep well, young master."
***
"The boy is going to give me gray hair before my time."
Edward's gaze followed Caelum as he disappeared around the corner.
Magnus's laughter echoed briefly through the kitchen.
Then it stopped.
"Edward."
The shift in Magnus's tone was immediate.
The air in the room grew cold.
"Yes, my lord."
"What the boy said was true."
Magnus's golden eyes burned with intensity.
His gaze was sharp and unforgiving.
"He could have been hurt."
Edward's posture stiffened, but he remained silent.
Magnus turned to the remnants of the kitchen chaos.
His gaze swept across the scattered pans and broken tower.
"Their carelessness cannot be overlooked."
The words carried icy resolve and fell heavily in the silence.
"Drag them all to the Crucible."
"Yes, my lord."
Magnus turned toward the window, moonlight casting sharp shadows across his features.
The warmth had vanished, leaving only a chilling stillness.
Silence hung heavy.
"Let this be a reminder of the price of failure."
Edward bowed and left without a sound.
Magnus stood alone, his golden eyes fixed on the night beyond the glass.
The warmth of the evening had faded, leaving only the cold certainty of consequences.