I was lying on my bed, with Isolde by my side. As soon as we saw the overwhelming amount of text in the healing magic section, we closed the book without hesitation. Don’t judge us; we’re still too young to digest such a massive volume of information.

  It was absurd. The length of that section easily doubled that of the other branches of magic, as if the author had decided to compensate for their lack of moderation with sheer quantity. I only read a part of it, enough to get a general idea: molecular healing magic. An approach that operated at the molecular and protein level, manipulating the body’s chemical processes to repair cellular damage and prevent diseases at their root.

  In theory, it allowed for the restoration of damaged DNA, preventing mutations or genetic diseases. It also made it possible to regenerate essential proteins to halt premature aging and eliminate toxins and free radicals through magical transmutation. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. It wasn’t hard to conclude that learning such a discipline would be a nightmare.

  I decided to postpone it. Better to leave it for when my age and patience are more suited for such a task.

  It’s been six years since my… peculiar birth.

  Over the past two months, I’ve started my training in magic and swordsmanship. There were no teachers to instruct me, just the guides, Isolde, and my own intuition. Hiring a tutor would have been a reasonable option, but I doubt anyone in this kingdom knows the martial arts described in the Paradox Scriptures.

  I also considered the academy. I asked Mother about it, but it turns out that admissions start at age twelve, and the training lasts until eighteen. A fact that hit me harder than it should have. But there’s not much I can do about it.

  For now, I’m content with books and Isolde’s company.

  “I don’t understand anything about Jiujitsu,” she complained, trying to perform a Tsuri Goshi with a corn sack.

  “It’s going to be more complicated than it seems…” I said while attempting a hook kick.

  Our flexibility, agility, and patience left much to be desired. We’d been training for two months and had only mastered ten techniques from different martial arts. It sounds impressive until you remember that the Paradox Scriptures compile around eight thousand.

  Eight thousand.

  An absurd number, though each technique is documented with almost obsessive precision. At least the text provides shortcuts to make learning easier.

  For example, the Wave Evasion & Counter from Systema. Its fundamental principle: using relaxation and wave-like motion to dodge a strike, redirect it with your torso or forearm, unbalance the opponent, and counter with an explosive, fluid strike.

  Thanks to that guidance, Isolde and I mastered the technique in a reasonable amount of time. But as we progress, it’s becoming clear that each new technique is harder to learn than the last.

  “Lucius, Isolde, it’s time to eat,” Mother called from the door of our room.

  Yes, from the door. I don’t like the idea of going out. We could walk through the streets of the kingdom or train on some hill, but the truth is, the idea of being outside doesn’t particularly appeal to me.

  I prefer the tranquility of my room, with a book in hand and Isolde’s company. Still, if she decides she wants to go out and socialize with the other children, I wouldn’t mind accompanying her. Either way…

  We left the room and hurried down the stairs. The food was waiting to be devoured.

  Father wasn’t with us during lunch. He… well, he was rarely home, and when he was, it was usually at night. We were only allowed to see him on weekends, when his schedule aligned with ours and we hadn’t yet succumbed to sleep.

  His job was… interesting, to say the least. Not everyone can boast about being the personal guard of the monarch of the entire kingdom of Millford.

  And since I mentioned it, I think it’s time to talk about the kingdom of Millford.

  It’s the place where I was born. Compared to other kingdoms on the continent, it’s enormous, almost excessive. Its structures are in line with the Victorian era we live in, with markets and parks—the only places I’ve visited so far—adopting a Gothic style that gives the city an air of solemnity that some might mistake for majesty.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  But there’s something about this world that I must highlight.

  The sun and the moon are one and the same.

  Yes, I know. It sounds ridiculous. The moon regulates tides and stabilizes the Earth’s axis, so its absence should cause chaos. However, according to the Paradox Scriptures, this role falls to the King Kraken, the absolute monarch of the seas.

  A colossal creature with endless tentacles.

  Fortunately, it’s peaceful… most of the time. If someone threatens its waters, it won’t hesitate to sink ships, cities, or any civilization that dares to challenge it. It’s the guardian of balance, the reason this world continues to function despite its alarming lack of a moon.

  And that leads us to the obvious question: what does night look like?

  Simple. The sun turns red and dims its light, behaving like the moon. An efficient concept, though unsettling.

  “Issy, Lucy, why don’t you go out and explore for a while?” Mother said as she washed some dishes and glasses.

  I took a sip of my soup to avoid answering.

  But…

  “Yes! That’s a great idea!” Isolde shouted enthusiastically, raising her spoon and splashing me with drops of soup.

  …

  Come on… I just took a bath.

  I sighed and wiped myself with a cloth. Isolde smiled nervously, but I smiled back warmly. I found her behavior amusing.

  I didn’t want to go out.

  Though, thinking about it, going out now might be an interesting opportunity. When Mother took us to buy some things, I saw something that caught my attention: an imposing structure, almost like a cathedral. I wanted to examine it more closely, but I postponed the idea until I felt the urge to do so.

  It seems that moment has arrived, courtesy of Isolde.

  “Thanks for the food,” I said, putting down my spoon. I got down from my chair and walked over to my sister.

  “Thanks for the food, Mom!” Isolde repeated enthusiastically.

  I helped her down, and we stood in front of Mother. She knelt, took our hands, and closed her eyes while chanting an incantation. A glow ran across the tops of our hands before fading away.

  Watcher’s magic.

  A spell described in the Paradox Scriptures. It’s used by mid-level guards to track prisoners and ensure they don’t escape. In our case, Mother used it as a preventive measure in case someone decided to kidnap us.

  If that were to happen, she would come for us.

  Alone.

  She didn’t need Father’s help. She was a high-level guardian.

  “Be careful,” she said, smiling and kissing us on the forehead.

  We left the house.

  Out there, maybe an adventure awaited us. Or maybe, just boredom.

  Once outside, Isolde grabbed my arm and dragged me through the streets, running with seemingly endless energy.

  Let me describe the scene.

  The soles of my shoes echoed against the worn cobblestones. The houses, some aligned in perfect symmetry and others separated by alleys connecting to other streets, stood with a monotonous elegance. People everywhere. Kids playing, adults chatting, merchants shouting their offers with an eloquence that bordered on desperation.

  We passed the intersection where carriages came and went in a constant flow. There, the Kingdom’s Sentinels maintained order, ensuring that traffic didn’t descend into chaos. Their presence was a reminder that even daily routines were regulated with precision.

  Our destination turned out to be a park. A social space where, unlike other places, the child population far outnumbered the adults. And before anyone questions it, no, it’s not dangerous. In fact, it’s absurdly safe. There are Veil Masters patrolling at all times, and even the Sentinels have a presence here, though their only purpose is to ensure trash ends up in its proper place.

  Now, I think it’s time to clarify something. I’ve mentioned different levels of knighthood, but I haven’t stopped to explain them. It would be understandable if someone got confused by the terms. Let’s fix that.

  The first level, the highest, belongs to the General Sergeants. They are the elite of the cavalry, the war strategists, the architects of great military campaigns. Their work isn’t limited to battle; they also advise the monarch and nobility on matters of defense and military policy. Their loyalty is unshakable. Perhaps even stronger than their own intelligence. Do you catch my drift?

  The second level corresponds to the Ether Guardians, like my parents. My father, in fact, could have been a General Sergeant, but the king decided his place was by his side as a personal guard. Ether Guardians lead divisions, serve as assistants to the General Sergeants, and oversee the kingdom’s protective magical rituals. They are key pieces in the military machinery.

  Then there are the Veil Masters. Their role is more subtle but no less crucial. They are the guardians of order, the invisible overseers who watch every corner of the kingdom. They use stealth magic and mental manipulation to monitor nobles and commoners alike. Basically, if someone tries to destabilize the kingdom, they are the first to know. And the first to act.

  Finally, there are the Kingdom Sentinels. They are the most visible force, the ones patrolling the streets and ensuring everything runs smoothly. They aren’t the strongest or the most strategic, but that doesn’t mean they’re weak. Their hand-to-hand combat skills easily surpass those of any untrained civilian, and their knowledge of healing magic is something I honestly envy.

  I’ve tried to understand it, but so far, my progress has been… limited.

  “Lucy! Look, look! It’s a dark goose!” Isolde exclaimed, pointing enthusiastically toward the central lake.

  There it was. A dark goose, gliding across the water with that aura of calm indifference that made them so irritating.

  The first time I saw one, I was two years old. I remember one tried to bite my foot. I cried. Isolde, in response, threw her bottle at it as if defending my honor in a duel.

  I guess aggression is her way of showing affection.

  “You’re not going to hit it with a bottle again, are you, Issy?”

  “What? Of course not! That time I did it to protect you,” she said, smiling proudly, as if it had been some great feat. “Wait! Lucy, what are you doing?!”

  I dragged her toward the lake and manipulated a bit of water with mana to splash her.

  “Agh!”

  But Isolde reacted faster than expected, redirecting the water toward my face. I ducked to avoid it, but a few drops hit my hair.

  “Issy!”

  The goose looked at us with what I swear was disdain.