Ezra sat at the desk in his bedroom. It was Helio today. Normally, he would write in his journal at night, but on Helios, he preferred the quiet of the morning. Helio mornings were always lazy nowadays. He didn't need to rush anymore. Class One was now officially allowed in the castle, so he didn't need to go out to the field. The scribes who were teaching still went without delay, but Extos was the one who oversaw everything out there now, along with Hugo, Delmon, and Louis.
Ezra dipped his quill and wrote:
The memories of my past life are growing distant. When I first woke in this world, I remember the sharp, vivid panic of being distraught and disoriented. I clung to Earth. But lately, I find that I feel more Ezra than Michael.
It is as if I was always supposed to be here. Earth has become a vivid, lingering dream. I can still recall every detail of it perfectly, but with each passing day, it feels less like who I am and more like what I had been in a fever dream. The emotions I feel now are more genuine—they feel more a part of my core than anything I ever experienced in my previous life.
I don't know exactly when the dam broke. If I had to guess, it was after Anticourt, or maybe after Irriton. Since then, if I am being entirely honest, I have begun to actually enjoy the childish things. Playing. Laughing with the other children. Simply existing in my mother and father's company. I used to suppress those instincts, bleeding the urges away with my fine control of mana. But now, I realize I don't need to—because I want their touch. I want their praise.
It feels as though I have always belonged to this world. Earth is still my foundation; its knowledge, its philosophies, and my old habits are woven into me. But they are just pieces now. The whole is Ezra.
He dated the journal and closed it. He had written it in perfect English. Even if it were retrieved, it wouldn't have mattered. No one knew English here. While their enunciations sounded similar, the form of the Imperial alphabet wasn't even close to the English alphabet.
He walked toward his bed, tucked his journal safely away, and glanced at another notebook. This one contained his set plans—his checklist of what he needed to do next. As always, this book was also in English. He opened it and flipped to the middle of the pages. It contained an explanation of how to make clear glass, sourcing the materials, and the different heating processes. Ever since Anticourt proved that he didn't have a perfectly eidetic memory, he had been terrified that he might lose the information he brought from Earth.
To make sure that didn't happen, he cataloged everything in a summary format. Every night, he would write down a whole book's worth of knowledge, using his fine mana control to make sure his writing was impossibly fast and precise. He had these pages secretly bound together. Sometimes he left out the illustrations because they were too detailed and the resin press couldn't replicate them yet. But every day, he managed to record more.
Right, clear glass should be next, he thought, tracing a line on the page. Just right after the sourcing of the paper. Maybe I can add pencils somewhere in here first. These quills are irritating, and having to bring ink everywhere is a hassle.
There were three knocks on the door.
"Come in."
The heavy oak door pushed open, and Aerwyna stepped inside. Today, there was no retinue trailing behind her, no maids hovering with towels, and no guards standing at attention. It wasn't that the security had gotten lax. It was that Aerwyna was enough security for Ezra. She had recently established a new rule. On the night before Helio, she would dismiss the inner guard and sleep in the adjoining chamber of Ezra's quarters. She wanted this uninterrupted time with her son, and so the mornings of Helio belonged strictly to them.
She carried a wide silver tray herself, having taken it from the maids who were only permitted to bring it as far as the outer corridor.
"Good morning, little one," she said, her voice lacking the sharp, commanding edge she used with the rest of the castle. She wore a simple, loose morning gown, her hair tied back loosely rather than pinned in its usual severe style.
She set the tray down on the small table near the window, and the rich smells of the kitchen immediately filled the room. There was a loaf of soft, freshly baked white bread, the crust golden and still steaming slightly, sitting beside a small ceramic pot of sweet butter. Next to it was a wide wooden bowl piled high with fresh fruits—crisp, thinly sliced apples, dark, plump berries, and peeled segments of sweet citrus. Two cups of warm, spiced milk steamed gently in the morning light.
Ezra looked at the tray, and then at his mother as she began to tear a piece of the soft bread for him. A month ago, he might have found the fussing unnecessary. Today, looking at her soft smile, he simply pulled out his chair and sat down, letting himself enjoy it.
To pass the time while he ate, Aerwyna idly drew a ball of water from the ambient air, letting it float between her palms. It was a habit of hers—a mindless magical exercise she used for relaxation. Ezra recalled the first time she had done this when he was a baby; it had shocked him so hard it temporarily broke his understanding of the world. Now, it was mostly just routine.
"You are meeting your friends again later, right?" Aerwyna asked.
"Yes, Mama," Ezra said.
"I saw the boys you mentioned. They seemed nice," Aerwyna said, though her tone held a hint of amusement.
"Mhm," Ezra nodded.
"You shouldn't bully them too much, Ezra," Aerwyna said, reaching over to pinch his nose.
Ezra closed his eyes, batting her hand away. "Mama, stop! I don't bully them at all!"
"Oh? I heard from Maester Kestel's Chief Steward. His son was complaining that he needed to write and answer things because you were giving them... what was the term? Homework. Every day. You make them work even at their homes!"
"That's... it's not like that. It's just so they understand the material."
Aerwyna shook her head. "You should be kinder to your friends and subordinates, alright?"
"Mama! It really isn't like that!" Ezra sighed. A comfortable silence persisted for a beat, Aerwyna's smile still beaming.
Ezra decided to change the subject as he watched the floating water. "Mama."
"Yes? My little Ez," Aerwyna said. She set her silver knife down on the wooden board, having just cored a fresh apple. She rested her elbows on the table, the silk of her morning gown brushing against the polished wood, and tilted her head to his level. She pushed a crisp slice toward him.
"When you do that... with the water," Ezra said. He picked up the apple slice, tracing the pale flesh with his thumb but not biting into it. Steam rose from the cups of spiced milk between them, carrying the scent of honey and cinnamon. "Can you control how cold it is?"
"Hmm, yes, little one." Aerwyna reached for her cup, blowing softly over the rim.
"How precise can you make it?"
Aerwyna paused, her fingers lingering against the warm cup. She blinked, the softness in her eyes giving way to mild confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"How cold can you make it?"
Aerwyna set the cup down. The cup clinked softly against the silver tray. She looked at him, taken aback by the sudden weight in his voice. Then, her lips curled into a smile.
"Can you make it really cold, Mama?" he pressed.
"Alright, then. Just like when you were a baby," Aerwyna chuckled softly. She pulled her hands away from the warm mug and held her palms facing each other over the center of the table.
Ezra sat up straighter. Beneath the surface of his eyes, he activated AMP. He didn't want to just see the trick; he wanted to see the mechanics of the Field.
"Let's start with water first," she murmured.
Ezra nodded. Between Aerwyna's palms, a ripple in the air coalesced. Moisture drew coagulated from he palm, pooling into a perfectly spherical, floating ball of water. It rotated lazily, reflecting the sunlight from the window.
"Here, see this, little one? I can freeze it bit by bit. Slowly... watch."
Ezra's vision shifted. Through AMP, he saw the temperature of the water ball plunge toward zero. From there, it decreased steadily. It behaved exactly as Earth physics dictated—the chill gripped the outer surface first. A thin, shell of ice formed around the sphere, trapping the water inside before slowly freezing inward.
"It's great, right?" Aerwyna asked, her voice light and teasing. "Your Mama is fantastic, right?"
Ezra nodded quickly. But his mind was already turning.
Aerwyna's smile widened, pleased by his attention.
"But, Mama," Ezra asked, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. "Can you actually change where it freezes?"
Aerwyna's playful smile faltered. A look of genuine shock but was quickly replaced by a sharp, contemplative stare. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the floating ice ball.
"I... I think I can. Hold on."
She dissolved the ice, and drew a fresh sphere of liquid water into the air. She focused again, the atmosphere in the room growing fractionally colder.
"Where do you want it to be, Ez?"
"Can you make it freeze from the center of the ball?"
"Yes. As long as your field can touch it, that is where you can place the magic, right?" her tone light and explanatory.
"Look closely," Aerwyna instructed. She narrowed her focus, her mana pulsing softly.
Through AMP, Ezra watched the temperature invert. The outer layer of the water remained at room temperature, but in the exact, dead center of the sphere, the temperature plummeted.
A tiny starburst of white frost formed in the very heart of the liquid. From that cold core, delicate, jagged spider webs of ice shot outward, piercing through the water until the entire sphere locked into a solid, frozen mass from the inside out.
Ezra thought about Earth. If someone attempted this there, the closest equivalent he could imagine was dropping a glass capsule of liquid nitrogen into the center of a water sphere and shattering it.
But on Earth, that wouldn't create a perfect, solid ice ball. The sheer temperature difference would cause the nitrogen to flash-boil instantly. The liquid would expand into gas at a ratio of nearly one to seven hundred, detonating the water from the inside out and showering the room in jagged ice shrapnel and thick, blinding fog.
"Mama," Ezra said, leaning closer over his untouched plate. "How fast can you freeze it?"
Aerwyna paused, a slice of apple halfway to her mouth. She looked befuddled yet again. "I can do it almost in a heartbeat. Haven't you seen me do this before?"
Not with the control I have with AMP now, Ezra thought, ignoring the steam rising from his mug.
"I just want to see it again, Mama," he said, his violet eyes piercing Aerwyna's blue.
Aerwyna was delighted by his undivided attention. She popped the apple slice into her mouth and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Alright."
She raised her left hand and conjured an identical sphere of liquid water. Now two orbs hovered over the silver breakfast tray, catching the morning sun—the solid, frost-veined ice ball on the right, and the perfectly clear liquid water on the left.
Ezra gazed at them, his hands gripping the edge of the wooden table.
"Mama, can you freeze one ball and melt the other simultaneously? And do it fast?"
"Of course. That's easy. Your mother has excellent mana control, right?" She gave him a playful wink, leaning back comfortably in her chair.
"Watch."
Ezra didn't blink.
A sharp crack! snapped through the quiet room, echoing off the stone walls, followed instantly by the soft, wet slosh of shifting water. A wave of freezing air washed over Ezra's face from the left, while a sudden breath of humid warmth hit him from the right.
Through AMP, the mechanics snapped into focus.
He replayed the micro-seconds in his mind. The freezing and melting of the water didn't affect its electrochemistry the way it should have on Earth. The hardening of the ice and the liquefying of the water happened before the temperature actually changed.
Her Field wasn't manipulating the temperature. Her mana was grabbing the molecules and directly forcing them into a rigid crystalline lattice, or loosening them into a fluid state.
Ezra took a mental note of this. He would write this down in his journal about magic and file it away for deeper review.
Ezra leaned forward, bringing his face so close to the floating orb that his breath plumed into mist against the freezing air radiating from it. He pointed a small finger at the tiny, silver pockets of trapped air suspended in the frost. "Mama, what about the bubbles?"
Aerwyna set her cup down, the ceramic clicking softly against the silver tray. She tilted her head, following his gaze. "What of the bubbles, little Ez?"
"Can you move them?" Ezra asked, his eyes tracing the milky flaws inside the sphere. "I mean, when the water is already frozen."
"Yes, I can." Aerwyna's brows scrunched together in thought. She brushed a crumb of soft bread from her lap, considering the ice ball not as a weapon, but as a puzzle. "But I've never really tried to do that. In a battle, the ice just needs to be hard and sharp. It doesn't matter if it's clear."
"Can I see?"
"Of course."
Aerwyna pushed her breakfast tray a few inches to the side to give herself room. She hovered both hands over the ice, her fingers curling slightly. Her shoulders squared, and a tight, rigid focus settled over her features.
"Mama is focusing more," she told Ezra as she drew her magic, a faint crease appearing on her forehead. "I have to isolate each pocket of air and drag it out with my mana. While my control is good, I'm not accustomed to moving too many fine bubbles at once."
Through AMP, Ezra saw exactly what was happening. Her mana pushed the trapped air pockets outward. A faint, static hiss escaped the sphere as the air breached the surface. After a few seconds, she had created a sphere free of bubbles, but the forced shifting had left the ice cloudy with internal fractures and defects.
She exhaled a soft breath, dropping her hands slightly. "What else do you want Mama to do? Hm?"
"Can you make a perfectly clear ball of frozen water, Mama?"
"Of course. So you want me to combine everything I've been doing?"
"Yes, Mama."
She dissolved the ice into water. The final ball took a little longer this time, her eyes narrowed as she layered the temperature while keeping the air out. When she finished, a flawless, crystalline sphere hovered above the tray. It was entirely transparent. It distorted the morning light, flipping the image of the window upside down within its curved, glass-like surface.
"Look, Mama. I'll show you something," Ezra said, slipping off his chair. "Can you grab that gemlamp from the desk?"
"Oh—don't let the ball melt yet, Mama!"
"I won't, little one," she promised Aerwyna left the sphere alone and walked toward the desk. Her fingers curling around the small gemlamp.
"Now put the gemlamp right behind it," Ezra directed.
"Alright, little one," Aerwyna nodded, clicking the lamp on. The dull, ambient glow of the magical gem flared to life.
"Now, watch." Ezra reached up and grabbed the heavy ice sphere—his small hands chilling instantly. He held it in front of the lamp's crystal, slowly pulling it back an inch, then two, adjusting the distance to find the exact focal point.
Suddenly, the scattered glow hit the flawless curve of the ice and snapped into alignment. A blinding, concentrated beam of pure white light shot across the room, cutting through the steam of their breakfast and illuminating a tight, brilliant circle on the far stone wall.
"Oh, wow," Aerwyna breathed, genuinely startled by the intense spotlight. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare bouncing off the stone.
"We aren't making the gemlamp create more light, Mama. We're just forcing all of it to travel in one direction," Ezra said, his violet eyes looking up at her, entirely serious. "Since all the light is focused on one point it looks brighter on a certain spot. If the Shadow Walkers come back and you hit them with a beam this bright... They are going to have a hard time."
He offered a small, hopeful smile. "Isn't it neat, Mama?"
A sudden, sharp tightness gripped her throat. She swallowed it down, forcing her expression to remain warm and steady, even as her heart ached.
"Hmm... yes," she whispered, her voice thick with a mix of awe and a quiet, fierce protective sorrow. "I think this is a great thing to know."
She gently took the freezing ice from his hands, letting it melt into harmless mist so it wouldn't hurt his skin, and pulled him a half-step closer.
"Very good, Ezra," Aerwyna smiled. Her hand trembled just slightly as she combed her fingers through his hair, resting her palm warmly against the back of his head. "Very good."
Ezra nodded in content. If he could make glass as clear as the ice that Aerwyna made, then the gemlamps could be used as spotlights that would weaken the power of the shadow walkers.