The paper shouldn’t have burned.

  That was the part that bothered me the most.

  Why did the stupid paper burn?

  I paced in my little toddler stride, glaring at the ashes like they had personally insulted my ancestors.

  Was the paper too fragile?

  Did my mana overload it?

  Was Alicia messing with me?

  No, she said I COULD copy runes on paper. Did she lie? Why would she, wait yes she would, she would absolutely lie...

  My brain spiraled until I decided on the only logical solution:

  Copy every single rune again, this time with magic ink. Fake runes included.

  If the paper burned again, fine.

  If it didn’t, then… something else was happening.

  …

  The Next Day, Class started. Of course.

  Alicia’s voice droned like a magical mosquito, circling my head endlessly.

  Elven phonetics.

  I survived.

  Barely.

  But the moment the lesson ended, I dropped down from my chair and sprint walked straight to the wall. Magic ink ready. Stylus gleaming.This time, I wrote everything , real runes or fake with magic ink

  careful spacing

  tiny strokes

  precision mode activated

  By the time Nora was preparing to leave, I had copied the full enchantment again , every swirl, every knot, every loop.

  And it was beautiful.

  So I marched straight to Alicia like a proud toddler presenting finger painting and shoved the board toward her.

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  “Look.”

  She blinked.

  She blinked again.

  Then the corner of her mouth curled, like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or frame it.

  “You copied the whole temperature enchantment?” Her eyebrow rose. “Correctly?”

  I shrugged, pretending to be modest. Inside, I was doing backflips.

  Alicia snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “prize.”

  Her snort turned into a laugh so loud Lily peeked over from the shelves.

  “I never said I’d give you a prize,” Alicia said, wiping her eye.

  “You never said you wouldn’t,” I countered.

  She froze.

  She realized the trap too late.

  “…Fine. What do you want?”

  “Eggs.”

  She blinked again. “Eggs?”

  “I saw the ones in your preservation box.”

  Alicia’s face twisted like I’d asked for a rare artifact. “Those are expensive And I don’t have many. I can give you one.”

  “Five.”

  “Two.”

  “Four.”

  “Three.”

  I stuck out my tiny hand. “Deal.”

  Alicia sighed like she’d aged ten years. But when she reached for the box—

  “Not now. Later.”

  She stared at me. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Because.”

  I left her with that.

  …

  Home — The Paper Revelation

  When Nora and I returned home, I took out the copied runes the moment I reached my room.

  The paper was—

  Perfect.

  Not charred.

  Not smoldering.

  Not screaming silently in rune-agony.

  Just… fine.

  I tapped the page thoughtfully.

  The magic ink was safe. That wasn’t the issue.

  Which meant the problem wasn’t the paper…

  It wasn’t the ink…

  It was the runes on the hut walls.

  Very interesting.

  …

  Later, a horrifying smell drifted from the kitchen.

  Nora, proudly mumbling, worked a bright yellow root into the stew.

  THE WHOLE ROOT.

  FOR A TWO-AND-A-HALF-PERSON POT.

  I wanted to scream.

  I wanted to cry.

  I wanted to march into the kitchen and slap the turmeric out of her hand.

  But I stayed quiet. I was a good boy.

  Externally.

  Internally, I was weeping into the void.

  Dinner was served.

  Oliver took the first bite.

  And froze.

  His soul left his body.

  His eyes dulled.

  He stared at the wall in betrayal.

  Nora tasted it next.

  “…Oh no.”

  Even Milo refused to approach the table, tail tucked between his legs.

  Nora sighed like a defeated warrior. “I’ll make another pot.”

  Oliver picked up the remaining turmeric roots and casually threw them out the window like cursed objects.

  …

  I approached Lily early the next morning.

  “Lily… can I get a smooth piece of wood?”

  Her heart melted instantly. “Of course! Pete!”

  Poor Pete. Forever summoned, forever obedient.

  He sighed, but nodded. “If you help me.”

  Lily grabbed his arm like she’d been waiting all morning for the opportunity.

  They left to smooth out a log.

  Leaving the kids alone in the hut.

  Which, of course, meant disaster.

  The twins tiptoed to Alicia’s preservation box, whispering conspiratorial nonsense. They reached it. They touched it. They lifted the lid—

  Alicia materialized behind them like a summoned demon.

  “What,” she said flatly, “are you doing?”

  The twins shrieked in unison.

  “Nora is making lunch. Wait.”

  She turned toward me, already annoyed.

  “Vivian. Lessons. Now.”

  I sighed internally and followed.

  After lessons, I found the finished log, perfect for rune work.

  But Lily was blocking it.

  “You have to pay,” she said sweetly.

  “…Pay?”

  “Kiss.”

  She tapped her cheek expectantly.

  My face burned. My soul left my body for the second time that day.

  But I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  The twins gagged.

  Clara clapped.

  Pete pretended to be adjusting tools.

  Silas nodded solemnly like witnessing a cultural ritual.

  Payment complete.

  Time to work.

  I wrote the real runes with magic ink.

  Fake runes with charcoal.

  My hands flew across the log in quiet fury.

  By the time we left the hut, it was done.

  “Mom, can we take the log home?” I asked.

  Nora smiled. “Of course.”

  Perfect.

  That evening Oliver was working on the beams of my future room, muttering about finishing before winter preparations start.

  Good. He was distracted.

  I tiptoed across the yard to retrieve the turmeric roots he’d thrown away like cursed objects.

  Success.

  Back inside, Nora was cooking dinner.

  I quietly grabbed a knife, the roots, and began peeling them.

  Everything was going great.

  Until...

  Nora’s scream blasted through the kitchen.

  I dropped the knife.

  The roots rolled.

  And the world froze.