I heard her before I saw her.

“taka taka taka taka taka taka—”

The unmistakable sound of bare feet smacking against the floor at full speed. The sheer force of her tiny stampede shook the house like an approaching natural disaster.

I barely had time to sit up before my door exploded open.

“LIIIIIFT OOOOOOOOFFF—!”

A blur of white and pink launched itself at me.

WHAM.

The air rushed out of my lungs as Lina collided with my stomach, tackling me back onto the bed with the force of a beast twice her size.

“GUAH—”

No mercy. No hesitation. She was already chomping on my sleeve, wiggling around like a wild animal marking its prey.

“AKUUUUUUUL!”

Lina.

She was on top of me, gripping the front of my shirt with both hands, eyes practically glowing in the dim morning light.

I groaned, squinting against the sudden attack. “Lina—what—”

She wasn’t listening.

She bounced on me like my ribs were a trampoline.

“It’s happening! It’s happening, it’s happening, IT’S HAPPENIIIIING—”

She chomped down on my shoulder. Not hard. Not enough to hurt. But enough to make her point.

“Lina! What the hell?! What the—?”

“Lina—LINA—” I gasped, struggling to breathe under the gremlin currently trying to eat me. “What—what is happening—”

“AKUUUULLL!” she howled, rolling around on top of me, gripping her plush toy like a war trophy. “TODAY! TODAY’S THE DAY!”

She wasn’t even talking about anything specific. Just—today.

I groaned, shoving her off me slightly so I could actually see again. Her hair was an absolute mess, sticking out in every direction, and she was still wearing her pajamas—fluffy ones decorated with tiny beastlings. In her hands, she clutched one of her many plushies: some kind of chubby beast with tiny wings and an exaggeratedly angry face.

Her eyes blazed with excitement, her energy practically crackling in the air around her.

“Today is the what, Lina?” I muttered, still catching my breath.

“YOUR BIG JOB, DUMMY!” she shrieked, shaking me like a ragdoll. “YOU’RE GONNA HATCH THE THING, AND YOU’RE GONNA BE THE BEST, AND YOU’RE GONNA—”

She chomped my arm again, wiggling.

“LINA, STOP TRYING TO EAT ME—”

“I CAN’T HELP IT, I’M SO EXCITED—!”

This child.

This absolute menace.

I groaned and finally managed to roll her off me, pinning her down by the shoulders. “Lina. Breathe.”

She gasped dramatically, then sucked in the loudest inhale I had ever heard.

I sighed. “Okay. Now talk like a normal person.”

Her feet kicked against the bed as she grinned up at me. “I’M JUST HAPPY FOR YOU, OKAY?! I woke up and I was like—‘TODAY IS AKUL’S BIG DAY’ and then I RAN HERE!”

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“Yes. I noticed.”

“And I got my lucky plushie—look, it’s Gra—gra!” She shoved the round, angry flying plush in my face. “He’s my battle partner today!”

I stared at the plush. Then at her.

I sighed. “Lina.”

“What?”

“You’re not going with me.”

Silence.

A pause.

Then—

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re not.”

“YES I AM.”

“Lina—”

“AKUL, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. I ALREADY DECIDED.”

“You— What does that even mean?! You can’t just—”

“I. DECIDED.”

She looked so sure. Like she had made an irreversible contract with the universe itself.

Before I could argue further, the door creaked open again.

“Lina, stop trying to smuggle yourself into your brother’s job.”

Mother’s voice was both fond and exasperated as she stepped inside. Father followed, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

“But Mom,” Lina whined, rolling dramatically on the bed. “I NEED to go with him. What if he needs my expert advice?”

“Expert advice on what?” I muttered.

“On EVERYTHING.”

Mother chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sweetheart, Akul has to do this on his own. And you have lectures today, remember?”

Lina froze.

A slow, painful realization dawned on her face.

“…Nooooo,” she whispered, horrified.

“Yes,” Mother confirmed.

“You’re lying. There’s no lectures today.”

“There is.”

“Noooo—”

“Yes.”

She curled into herself, her little hands clutching her plushie like it could save her.

And just like that—

The hurricane died.

She deflated instantly—from the wild energy of a thousand lightning bolts to a sad little flickering candle.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “I see how it is.”

Guilt stabbed at me. “Lina, I’ll tell you everything when I get back—”

“No, no. It’s fine. You go. I’ll stay here.” She sniffled dramatically. “ALONE. ABANDONED.”

“Lina—”

“Left behind like a forgotten slipper in the rain—”

“LINA.”

She looked up at me.

And then—

She smiled softly.

“You’ll do great,” she whispered, voice small now. “I know you will.”

For a moment, I just stared at her.

Then, I reached out and ruffled her already-messy hair. “Yeah. I will.”

The sadness lingered for a moment longer—before she suddenly brightened, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “When you get back, you have to tell me EVERYTHING, okay?”

I smirked. “Deal.”

And just like that, she perked up again.

Still a little sad. But hopeful.

“All right, go get ready,” Mother said, standing up. “Anya will be here soon.”

Lina sniffled again for dramatic effect but hopped off my bed. “I’m taking my plushie with me to school. He will be my emotional support warrior.”

Father chuckled. “Good idea.”

As she shuffled out, dragging her plushie behind her like a defeated warrior, I let out a breath.

“She really is something else,” I muttered.

Mother smiled. “She’s your biggest supporter. Even if she can’t go with you.”

I nodded. “I know.”

I sat up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as Lina finally disappeared down the hall. The room felt noticeably calmer—quieter now that the storm had passed.

Father leaned against the wall, arms still crossed, watching me with that unreadable gaze of his. Mother sat beside me on the bed, the warmth of her presence grounding me.

“So,” she said, her voice gentle but knowing. “It’s done, isn’t it?”

I glanced at my bedside. The grimoire sat there, its twin-pupiled eye shut, as if still resting. But it wasn’t just a book anymore. It wasn’t just a tool.

It had become something.

I exhaled. “Yeah. True Manifestation.”

Father’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—something sharp, something knowing.

“That was fast,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Much faster than most.”

Mother reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “How do you feel?”

I hesitated. It was a simple question, but the answer felt… complicated.

“Different,” I admitted. “Like something clicked into place. Like—it wasn’t about forcing it. It just… happened.”

Father hummed, nodding slowly. “That’s a good sign.”

Mother smiled. “It means your artifact is truly yours now. It’s not just something you wield—it’s part of you. That kind of synchronization… it’ll shape everything from here on.”

I swallowed, glancing at my grimoire again. I knew what this meant. True Manifestation wasn’t just a milestone—it was recognition, proof that my artifact had fully acknowledged me.

And that meant something else, too.

I glanced at Father. “The Registry.”

He nodded. “You’ll have to go. All new awakenings are recorded every four months, and you and Chia both fall into this cycle. The next Registry is in a few weeks.”

“Is it mandatory?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Mother sighed. “It’s more than just a formality, Akul. Registration isn’t just about putting your name on a list—it determines how the world sees you. Your official rank, your artifact classification—it all starts there.”

Father’s voice was steady but firm. “It also means the Raiven family will know.”

Silence.

A chill ran down my spine.

I’d been able to exist in the shadows until now. My artifact, my abilities—only the people in this house knew the full truth. But once I registered, that privacy would be gone.

They would know.

I clenched my fists. “How long until they take an interest?”

Father’s expression darkened. “Depends. If you keep a low profile, maybe months. If you make waves… sooner.”

Mother reached for my hand, squeezing it. “But don’t let that stop you. You’ve come this far, and this is just another step. No matter what happens, you have us.”

I exhaled slowly. Right. I wasn’t alone.

Still, the weight of it pressed against my chest.

Father studied me for a moment before nodding. “You have time to prepare. For now, focus on the job at hand. The egg comes first.”

I nodded. “Yeah. The egg comes first.”

A knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

Anya had arrived.

It was showtime.