“Daddy?” Leah’s voice was small as she padded into the kitchen, her strawberry-blonde hair a chaotic masterpiece of bedhead. Her eyes went straight to the faint, shimmering glow on the walls, a residual effect of the newly powered wards and the work that was being done on them. “The sparkles are still here.”

  Draden smiled, his heart easing at the sight of her. “Morning, sweetie. They, Coradine and Marcus, are doing some work on the house and restaurant, so they might take a while longer to fade than I originally thought.” He scooped her up, her small body warm and comforting against his chest. “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded, burying her face in his shoulder. “Leah dreamed of Mommy again,” She mumbled into his shirt. “She showed me a flower made of light. It was pretty.”

  His arms tightened around her. Another visit. It was a painful, beautiful gift that Lorna was giving them, giving their daughter. “That sounds like a wonderful dream. Did you give her the message I asked you to?”

  She nodded, and he pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Good, we’ll talk about it later,” He said softly, deciding not to press for more details in front of Coradine. “Now, how about some breakfast? Grandma Coradine made oatmeal.”

  Leah peered at the pot, her nose wrinkling slightly at the plain, gloopy mixture. She hadn’t particularly enjoyed it the day before, but it was something that even Coradine could make.

  Draden chuckled and took over, adding a healthy dose of sugar to the mixture before ladling the oatmeal into her bowl and transforming it with a swirl of honey from Earth, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a handful of fresh berries. Her first bite was hesitant, but then her eyes lit up. It was so much better than the day before. The oatmeal was still creamy and had a comforting quality to it. However, it was the abundance of sugar that he had added prior to serving, along with the cinnamon, which added a warmth to it. The real magic was the honey, its sweetness unlike anything else, carrying with it a subtle but potent stream of qi that made her wiggle around happily on her stool.

  Draden watched Leah tuck the last spoonful into the corner of her mouth, a strand of honey glinting on her lips. The slow bloom of morning light pressed through the kitchen window, throwing the lingering shimmer from the recently recharged wards along the walls like faint, patient constellations.

  Coradine hovered nearby, steam lifting from her own bowl of oatmeal as she ate, the lines around her eyes softening. She’d been up almost as early as him, double-checking the work that she and Marcus had begun on the new restaurant wards the night before. Constantly running threads of magic throughout the wards in the house and the restaurant. They had already known that this project would take more than a few days’ work; they required careful weaving and time.

  Draden brushed his hands across the counter to the small notebook where he’d scribbled the recipe for pectin and its ratios. He hadn’t tried the Jello he’d made, for the simple reason that it wasn’t a finished recipe yet in his mind. What he had given Coradine had worked and resembled the final product, but that was all. He hadn’t heated the pectin and syrup or juice, nor had he added any form of sweetener to it.

  So, while it had worked, that was all it was, a resemblance.

  He found himself smiling at the clumsy sketches. Last night’s success felt less like luck this morning and more like the first step of a plan.

  Leah finished her food and sighed happily. “I give that a passing grade.” She announced imperiously.

  Coradine set her own spoon down with a shocked face and laughed as she poked the girl’s nose. “Just a passing grade?”

  Leah nodded. “Yup, it wasn’t as good as daddy’s normal cooking, but it was better than the oat-gloop he made yesterday. So it gets a passing grade.”

  The older woman burst into laughter, while Draden looked betrayed at his daughter’s words.

  Leah giggled and hopped off her stool. She danced in a small, delighted circle, unconsciously letting out energy as she did so. It curled out from her like a warm breath spreading throughout the kitchen. It wasn’t loud, nor showy; it was simply a release of magical presence. Coradine watched with an assessing gaze that made Draden stiffen.

  “She’s growing,” Coradine said softly, a mage’s eye running along the invisible currents Leah left behind. “Not just with magic. Her link to qi that she inherited from you — whatever that manifests as for her — is also stabilizing. That’s not something that happens on its own at her age. It’s rare that people can access both magic and qi. It’s not unheard of, but it is rare. Usually, you have one or the other. You have to understand; magic and qi are two sides of the same coin. A cultivator's dantian is the same place that a mage holds their energy.”

  Draden’s brow furrowed thoughtfully as he took in that information. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it almost sounds like you’re saying that being able to do both is a bad thing. That it will split her power or something.”

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  “That is what I’m saying… for normal mages and cultivators,” She admitted. “Your daughter is hardly normal, so she might be different, or because her magic awakened first, it might take up a larger portion of their energy well.”

  Draden’s chest tightened with a familiar cocktail of pride and fear. Coradine’s tone was supportive, but the surface of her calm hid calculations. “We need to be careful who knows that she can do both.”

  Coradine nodded. “We will keep it to just you, me, and Marcus for now. He and I will map her full affinities and start her on some small, protective exercises. But Draden, if word gets out—”

  He didn’t need her to finish. Tavian’s dagger on the shelf, along with Macron’s current unpredictability, and whoever else showed interest in them.

  “Should I show her how to cultivate?” He asked her softly, as Lead grabbed her bowl and carefully carried it over to the sink. Her face screwed up in extreme concentration, to ensure that she wouldn’t drop it.

  The older woman thought the question over carefully before answering. “Let us teach her the protective exercises first, but yes, even if she doesn’t want to become a cultivator, knowing how to properly control that side of herself will be invaluable for helping stay unnoticed.”

  “Alright, I’ll start preparing lessons for her and writing out everything I can think of for when the time comes.” Draden agreed readily. “Just let me know when I can begin.”

  Coradine lingered long enough to say one last thing to him. “Marcus should be picking up the last two high-grade crystals we need before he comes today.” With that, she pressed a folded sheet of paper into Draden’s hand. It was a sketch of how they were planning to tie the restaurant’s ward arrays into the house’s already existing wards. Along with a small explanation of the process in tight, refined script.

  It wasn’t something he had been expecting to receive, but he was nonetheless glad to have been kept in the loop.

  The two had bought two high-grade earth crystals and one high-grade water crystal the day before.

  The cost had been… well, if this had been a story, he would have thrown up blood just from handing over the amount. Before leaving, he had given Marcus even more money for the last two. There was something to be said about protecting the restaurant, but at the same time, erasing all the money he had made, along with more of his savings like this, left a bad taste in his mouth.

  He tucked the schematic into his apron pocket, the crisp paper a tangible representation of his dwindling funds and their growing defenses. “Tell him to be careful.” The words were unnecessary but still needed to be said. Marcus was a veteran mage who had survived more scrapes over his long years than Draden had cooked hot meals.

  Coradine’s lips curved into a rare, small smile. “He always is. Now, I have a ward matrix to continue mapping. Don’t let your daughter get dirty on her way to school.” With a final nod, she disappeared into the house, leaving Draden alone in the quiet kitchen.

  The morning unfolded in a familiar rhythm of preparation and quiet contemplation. After getting Leah washed and dressed, Draden braided her hair, his larger, calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he wove the strawberry-blonde strands together. It was a small, intimate ritual that grounded him, a moment of peaceful normalcy amidst the escalating chaos that had become their lives.

  “Hold still, sweetie,” He murmured as she wiggled, trying to peer at her reflection in the polished surface of a nearby pot.

  “But Daddy, my braid needs to be perfect! Winnie says my hair is like a sunbeam that got tangled in a strawberry patch.”

  He chuckled, securing the end with a small ribbon. “Winnie is a very smart girl. And your hair is perfect.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now, let’s go. You don’t want to be late.”

  Their walk through the city was tense as the people were all looking over their shoulders. As they approached the school, he saw them—two different men from the day before, but wearing similar clothing from a noble house. They were lounging near the alley across from the school gates. They weren’t even trying to be subtle; at least they weren’t making a scene in front of the gate this time.

  It was a message, a show of presence. Dajra stood at the gate like a stone sentinel, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but radiating an unyielding authority that kept them at a distance. She met Draden’s eyes as he approached, a silent acknowledgment of the watchers nearby.

  He knelt to hug Leah, his hand lingering on her small back a moment longer than usual. “Have a good day. Listen to your teachers, and I’ll be here to pick you up afterward.”

  “I will, Daddy! Bye!” She chirped, oblivious, and ran through the gates to join a group of friends, her laughter a bright, defiant sound against the morning’s grim backdrop.

  Draden straightened, his gaze locking with Dajra’s. “There are more of them, and the atmosphere inside the city is odd this morning. Does this have anything to do with how Marcus apparently reacted yesterday?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s certainly possible. None of us expected him to react like that.” She said, her voice a low, cold murmur. “As for these idiots, they rotate from different families. They’re testing the waters, seeing who flinches first.”

  He grunted in acknowledgement. “Let them watch, as long as that’s all they do,” Draden replied, his voice hard. “They’ll get bored eventually.”

  “Nobles rarely get bored when power is on the table,” Dajra countered, her eyes never leaving the men across the street. “Go. Handle your business. I’ll handle mine.”

  He gave her a curt nod and turned toward Elmsworth’s bakery. After what the man had done for Alice the day before, he wanted to thank him. It was his responsibility as the owner to clear up any misunderstandings. At the same time, he would also let the man know that he could deal with Alice on these matters in the future. He would leave any adjustments to the orders up to her best judgment going forward. The original order would be the baseline, while the order the night before would be the top end, as they still had a few loaves left over.

  She just needed to let Draden know about the various changes and when he needed to meet with the baker to drop off more money. It might not be the usual way of doing business for either of them. However, Elmsworth knew Alice, and it was one less thing that Draden needed to worry about. After leaving the bakery, he headed towards the dwarven blacksmith shop in Alice’s neighborhood.

  He wanted to see how the dwarf was coming along with his first order.

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