—

Today was wonderful!

Silas seemed especially kind today — he seemed more relaxed, which was nice. I've begun mana-casting sessions with him, alternated with stupid conversations and drawing lessons (he insists.) How does a teacher tell a student that he simply doesn't have skills in drawing? Silas tried to draw an apple and it looked like a deflated lung...

—

Silas says I've improved, and that I'll soon master it. Yay!! (Two exclamation marks because I'm feeling especially excited.) He's far more patient than my father. Speaking of my father, I haven't seen him for some time — he must be stuck in the palace. I thought I would miss him, but it's so peaceful. Maybe he's busy? My mother seems to miss him, which is odd, since they always fight. I'll probably erase this section out later when my mother reads my journal.

—

Third day of mana casting lessons! I almost did it, but I lost concentration halfway when I had to help Elias, who had somehow injured his leg. Hope he gets better soon. Silas said that I shouldn't have done that because he could have easily healed the bird with his mana. Oops. But still, I'm close to having a perfect family! Soon, I'll see my father smile. Maybe he'll praise me too?

—

The mangoes have officially been finished. What a bummer... I was so looking forward to eating more of them. Mom got grapes, which are yummy too. Frozen ones, especially, and they were large and purple. Hopefully Silas will like it! I saw Father today and I tried talking to him, though he seemed...oddly bothered? But he seemed to be on good terms with my mom, and they kept talking in hushed tones...

—

On my way to see Silas! :) I shall update this journal later. But first, I shall have lunch with my family! It's one of the few times we get to eat together, so I hope I don't say anything stupid.

—

.

.

"Eat more," your mother encouraged, pushing the plate of steaming meat towards you. She had made one of her specialties and your favourites — braised ribs — and now there were heaps and heaps of meat staring right back at you. "You're a growing boy."

"Can I take some for my friend later on?" You asked eagerly, shoveling a spoonful of rice into your mouth — "if we have leftovers, that is."

Your mother smiled. "A friend? Why didn't you tell us?"

Oh. Right. You had forbidden her from reading your journal. "I met a kid in the palace," you said cheerfully, "he became my friend!"

"Ah, is that so?" Your mother said pleasantly, "good for you. No wonder the dozens of cookies that I pack for you are always demolished."

"He takes more than half," you were quick to say. "Anyway, he's younger than me, and he doesn't get a lot of food, so...I think he'll like to eat this. Him and I share the same tastebuds. I think he was a little disappointed that the mangoes ran out."

Your mother's eyes were soft and almost reminiscent of something. "Helping others — I'm very proud of you, Y/n," she said quietly. "Aren't you, Ralph?"

You were looking hopefully at your father, who had been silent so far in the conversation. But he snapped out of whatever reverie he was in and blinked his eyes. His face was rigid and his voice was cold as he spoke. "What?"

"Y/n made a friend — he's helping another person out," your mother repeated. "At least something good happened with Y/n's frequent trips to the place. I was worried he would feel lonely in such a huge place."

Your father furrowed his eyebrows before his gaze sharpened. "Where are you finding the time to play? To make friends? I send you there to learn."

"And I did learn," you said meekly. "I memorized the interior layout of the palace. I got my poison resistance up — I can withstand Grade Two poisons! I'm learning, Dad, I really am. I swear."

"There is no need to explain such things to your father." Your mother said swiftly, "I beg of you — be happy for him, Ralph. Your son is working hard — and he still makes time to ensure that —"

"I don't care." Your father interrupted. "Be happy for him? What for? He still can't use his mana well. Even after repeated drillings."

"He can't work well if you place him under stress."

"And? What about it, Sarah? I used to think that way," your father gave a scornful laugh, "and then I got punished because I couldn't help the Emperor when we got into a stupid situation."

"You were fourteen, Ralph."

"Old enough," your father said angrily, "and it's about time Y/n knows that! He's eight. He has four years to become perfect. Age doesn't matter when it comes to our duties — we must always be perfect. There is no room for mistakes, and Y/n has to learn that or it'll kill him."

"You were never like this," your mother said softly, "you used to be —"

"Foolish," your father finished. "And one day you'll see that Y/n shall benefit from my scoldings. I told you, Sarah, I told you — that if we ever had a child, our future child would have to endure this. And in fact, I don't even know how Y/n —"

"He still sees you as your father. I know you're doubtful now, Ralph — I know everything is a mess right now—" Your mother started in a strangled voice. You had long noted that she would sound this way before she cried. "I— I don't know anymore. You are killing Y/n's soul the way yours were killed. The way you were killed."

"The way I was taught," your father refuted harshly, his words venomous and cutting. You flinched. "Meanwhile, you think everything is a joke. You never take it seriously, and—!"

"You think I wanted this?"

Their voices had grown now. Shouting. Screaming. Fighting. You started to dig the crescents of your nails into your skin, biting your lip with anxiousness. An unwelcome gray fog had settled over your brain, and tears pricked your eyes.

No no no! They couldn't be fighting because of you! Again!

Just why did you have to open your mouth to say that you had a friend? You should have just kept your lips closed! And now you had made your mother upset, and your father and mother were fighting again. Just when father was calm and everything was peaceful.

You were destroying your parent's marriage. Weren't children supposed to cement bonds? So why were you flaying their relationship, bit by bit? Why were you toppling over the cards that had been structured even before you were born?

You were growing desperate. You decided to stand up abruptly, your chair falling over in the process.

"I'll show you the mana casting later!" You blurted out. "I'll show it to you, Dad! So don't get mad!"

The room grew silent.

"Oh darling," your mother said brokenly, voice cracking. She swept you in a hug. "I'm sorry — I'm sorry you had to be born to a family like ours."

"You love Dad, right?" You sniffled. "And Dad loves you, right?"

"Yes, yes," your mother patted your head. "How about this — today, you stay home, and —"

You grew even more alarmed. You thought you had successfully apologised, so why was your mother punishing you? You wanted to see Silas. You had told her that you had made a friend there. Why were you constantly making mistakes that you weren't even aware of?

"No! I want to go to the palace!" You pushed your mother away, shaking your head. You were acting like a child. A petulant one. In hindsight, you were a mere child — but still, for so long you had prided yourself on being the senior persona and the older person teaching Silas. And now it was mortifying to feel tiny and insignificant again. "Please. I won't be of any trouble! I'll learn! I'll finish the mana casting!"

"Of course." Your mother said after a pause, swallowing. "Okay. Take your satchel — I'll pack the leftovers now. Wipe your tears, and you can go along with your father to the palace, alright?" She ignored your resistance to her and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

You took a while to say it back as you felt your father's hands clasp around your wrist. "I love you too, mommy."

The day had started off rather gloomily, hadn't it?

—

"You're meant to feel your surroundings, and not open your eyes," Silas sighed, exasperated. "Don't you like — you're distracted today, Y/n."

You blinked your eyes. The greenish blue orb in front of you began to dissipate, and you felt a heaviness in your chest start to form once more. "Oh," you frowned. "What percentage was that?"

"Sixty five," Silas murmured. "Far worse than your previous attempts. You're bothered by something, Y/n."

Silas knew the look of botheredness — he had definitely seen it on his mother's face before. The kind where things were plaguing one's minds. However, Silas had heard servants saying that "the Empress's head was filled with nothing but concubines and wine," and that "she didn't even inquire about the status of the prince."

It had taken a while for Silas to decipher those words, but he learnt later, to his disgust and shame, that his mother had become the Empress through an arranged marriage and simply didn't care about his existence. Being unwanted was a bitter pill to swallow and Silas had felt his first touches of revulsion and disappointment then.

Somehow, Silas had always been hopeful that his mother would love him. That even though his father was frankly tolerant of him and even terrified, his mother would be sweet. But an alcoholic, malicious mother was no better than a composed, flippant father. There were two sides of the same coin, and they shared the common sentiment that Silas was nothing to them.

They called him a monster. And perhaps Silas had conditioned himself to become one, even if he had originally been fine. There was a limit to how long one could remain the same in light of hearing such atrocities about them.

"Sixty five!" You exclaimed, "oh dear. It needs to be a hundred percent for me to clear this tier...and I promised my father that I would master it!"

"The more bothered you are, the worse it's going to be," Silas furrowed his eyebrows. "Take a deep breath and try again. Are you sleeping enough?"

You looked away. "Yeah. And anyway, I get to sleep less than you. I'm older."

"You're eight."

"And you're six." You sighed. "And yet you can already do such marvelous things...I can barely channel my mana out while you literally made Elias. I don't know what to do. I really don't know what to do. I'm dead."

"I'm on a different level. I can probably beat a twelve year old." Silas said tonelessly, "it doesn't make sense for you to compare yourself with me. Just focus on yourself."

"I'm trying!" Your bottom lip quivered and your tone began to become wobbly. "But if I screw this up, then my mother and father will scream, my father will be cold again, and...oh," you wiped your eyes before the tears could well up, "okay. I'll try again. You must be tired. My mom packed some ribs for you."

"You eat," Silas crossed his arms. "You're obviously sad, so do something to keep your mind off it."

"Can — can you hug me?" You asked in a small voice. "My mom always hugs me when I'm sad."

"I'm not your mom. And besides, it's not my fault you're upset — it's your father's." Silas didn't like crybabies, so he didn't like seeing you tear up. Yup, that was probably the reason why he didn't like seeing you sad. And somehow he felt a spike of dislike aimed at your father. "So just eat, Y/n."

You deflated. "You must try it, at least. It's my favorite food, and..."

"Fine, I will." Silas sighed slowly, reaching out to jab a fork into a piece of meat. Your mother had meticulously deboned all of it, so it was tender and simple to eat. "Happy now?"

"Yeah!"

Silas found it endearing — no, amusing — that it was so easy for you to cheer up. And so he continued to chew, before his eyes widened.

...Huh. It tastes really good...?

You looked pleased as he reached out for another piece, before he swiveled to you and held out the fork to your mouth. On the fork was a slice of meat.

"Eat." He said.

You obliged and allowed him to feed you. But the taste of your much beloved ribs only brought you back to the time of lunch, and subsequently, reminded you of your parents' argument. And that made you feel all hollow inside, like someone had dug your heart out with a shovel and had left it out in the rain to get drenched. After you swallowed, you shook your head and pushed the lunchbox towards him. "I'll try channeling my mana again. I feel better, so maybe it will be better." You said hopefully.

Silas held the box and nodded his head. You closed your eyes again, trying your best to focus.

Silas said one technique was to count and visualize the amount of patterns you could form in a minute. It was hard to explain, he said, and it was more of something you felt in your bones. There were three stages to mana-casting, and they were the basics that had to be used regardless of what kind of spell it was. It didn't matter if it was advanced or intermediate — these basics had to always be used.

You had cleared the first stage, which was to feel the mana crystal energy thrumming beneath your bones. People usually had difficulty with two things: one, regulating the circulation of mana constantly throughout the body, and two, making sure it didn't become too concentrated in one place before bursting.

You squeezed your eyes tighter. A headache was forming, but you couldn't let that distract you. Your heart started to thump wildly against your chest as you felt energy overwhelm our senses. Oh no! It was getting too close to your hands — you steered it away, before it moved mischievously to —

Flashes of your father's voice started to sound in your head. You were soon growing painfully aware of the sounds everywhere — Elias's chirping as he rested on the moss with his bandaged leg, the trees swaying in the breeze and the rustle of the wind. Unwanted memories and thoughts started to flood into your brain — you thought of your mother and father's constant bickering, your sadness, your mother's sadness...then you thought of your journal, with all of its delicious secrets and yearnings inside, and then Elias. And then Silas.

Your thoughts simmered to a steady brew as you gave a sharp inhale, feeling how the mana within you simply flowed, nearly suffocating you.

Stuck!

Stuck!

You were...

"Y/n!" You felt hands rapidly shake your shoulders, as you started to cough, your eyes watery and your mouth exhaling gasps, "you did it — you successfully pulled it off, so snap out of it."

You froze, your panicked eyes meeting Silas's.

"You did it successfully," Silas repeated quietly. "I told you — you could do it. Look, Y/n, at what you just managed to accomplish."

You were too happy to even tease him about the big word he had used. Accomplish.

You stared in awe at the orb in front of you, perfectly shaped and painted a radiant blue.

"I did it," you said softly, "oh, I did it, Silas...thank you!" You threw your arms around him, hugging him tight (the very motion that he had refused to do earlier)— "oh, what would I do without you, Silas? You saved my life!"

"I didn't do that much..." Silas trailed off, standing very still as you embraced him. "Well, now you'll stop coming here all sad and grumpy."

One would hardly even guess that you had been on the verge of tears. Your cheeks were rosy and aglow, your eyes were shining brightly, and your lips seemed to have been carved into a permanent smile. You were giddy on your feet as you pranced about, grabbing Elias and raising him high in the air with a delighted squeal. "Guess what? I did it!"

"Careful," Silas warned. "You'll get sick."

"I won't —erk!" You doubled over in surprise, feeling sudden exhaustion pour into your body. "Hey, not fair. How come you get to do it without anything happening to your body?"

Silas shrugged. "I'm just born like that."

"Not fair..." you huffed out a sigh. "No matter. I'm really happy."

Blood trickled down your nose, and instinctively, Silas reached out to wipe it with a tissue he had found in the lunchbox. You blinked your eyes sluggishly, yawning.

"A nosebleed. See? You've been practicing like mad." Silas stated.

You giggled. "Aw, are you worried about me?"

"You're pushing your body too much."

You shrugged, unbothered. "If I didn't practice, I wouldn't have been able to do it. I'm not blessed with god given abilities, so I'll have to make up for my mediocre skills with practice."

...Silas had never known what it was like to be average, so it didn't matter to him. But one thing he knew was that he didn't like seeing you rendered in such a state — so lifeless — when he was so used to you being bubbly and running all over the place. But still, a big and satisfied grin remained on your face as you wiped away the blood above your lips, effectively smearing it. "Anyway, you don't have to feel sorry for me. I've made my peace with that. My Daddy is going to be so happy..."

Just like that, you had reverted back to Daddy.

Your hopes were so sweet, so high.

But it would only make the crash more bittersweet.

—

today was slightly better but the real tragedy lies on Thursday... sigh life isn't too good rn

Silas's POV of his family soon :)

I might still be able to update tomorrow but Thursday is out of the question. in October and the first half of November, I think updates might begin to be scarce so I'll start pre-writing now

hope you enjoyed it!

how was it?