The metallic clang of silverware against plates punctuated the family's New Year's Eve dinner. They had decided to go out to a fancy restaurant as a final celebration for the end of the year and a last family bonding before the inevitable departure. Steam rose from perfectly plated dishes at the high-end restaurant, carrying the aroma of truffle and aged wine. Avince watched his sister Amyra snap yet another photo of her dessert, her phone's flash drawing disapproving glances from nearby diners.

"Dad, you've got sauce on your tie again," Amyra said, barely containing her laughter.

"This is what I get for trying to be fancy," Erwin sighed, dabbing at the silk tie with his napkin. "You'd think after twenty years of your mother dragging me to nice restaurants, I'd have figured out how to eat without wearing half the meal."

"Oh please," Ashna rolled her eyes, hiding her smile behind her wine glass. "Need I remind you of our first date? You were so nervous you knocked over an entire bottle of red wine."

"Mom!" Amyra leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "You never told me this story!"

"Because your father swore me to secrecy," Ashna winked. "But since we're all sharing embarrassing moments..."

"I thought we agreed that story would die with us," Erwin groaned, but his eyes crinkled with amusement. "Fine, fine. I was trying to impress your mother with my knowledge of fine wines. I grabbed the bottle to show her the label, but my hands were shaking so badly, it slipped right out of my grip. Drenched both of us in Cabernet Sauvignon."

"And I married him anyway," Ashna reached over to squeeze his hand. "Though the restaurant did ban us for a month."

More of such conversation transpired that night, and for a moment, it felt like they were just a family—not mages bound by duty. Avince found himself memorizing the details: the way the candlelight caught the whitening strands in his father's hair, how his mother's laugh lines deepened when she smiled, the familiar sound of Amyra's snort when she tried to contain her giggles.

But moments, like the final hours of the year, have a way of slipping through your fingers. The celebration ended and the days passed.

A week into the new year, their living room had transformed into an obstacle course of cardboard boxes and half-packed suitcases. Avince stubbed his toe on what his mother swore was just her jewelry collection—the weight suggesting otherwise—and collapsed into a kitchen chair with a grunt. The wood creaked beneath him as he shifted, watching his parents navigate the chaos with practiced efficiency.

"How much longer until you leave?" The words felt heavy in his mouth.

Erwin's hands stilled over a box he was sealing. He exchanged a look with Ashna, one of those wordless conversations parents seemed to master. "Two days. The dragon clan's already prepared the accommodations. They're expecting us by the weekend."

"It's not forever, you know," Ashna added softly, abandoning her packing to sit beside him. "We’ll only be away for a year you know, maybe two at most"

"A lot can change in two years," Avince muttered, then immediately regretted the bitterness in his tone when he saw his mother's face fall.

From upstairs came the muffled sound of Amyra's voice, probably saying goodbye to yet another friend over the phone. The thump of items being tossed into boxes punctuated her conversation.

"And Amyra's school transfer?" Avince's fingers drummed against the kitchen table, leaving slight indentations in the wood—a nervous habit he'd developed since intensifying his training.

Ashna tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "It's all settled. Though I caught her crying over her yearbook last night. She's trying to be brave about it."

"She gets that from you," Erwin said, joining them at the table. "Always putting on a strong face."

"I learned from the best," Avince replied, meeting his father's gaze. "Remember when you broke three ribs during that dungeon mission but still insisted on attending my middle school graduation?"

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"Your mother nearly killed me herself when she found out," Erwin chuckled. "But I wasn't going to miss seeing you give that valedictorian speech."

Avince's gaze drifted to the windowsill, where morning light caught the silver sheen of his partially transformed arm. The past few days had left their mark on him—calluses on his palms from countless hours of practice, dark circles under his eyes from late-night training sessions.

He had finally decided to buy the full course from Christian, and it had been worth every point—even if his remaining credit balance strongly disagreed. Buying the course allowed him to contact the alumni directly and ask for advice.

Eventually, he told Christian about the idea of transmogrifying his body into silver, presenting it as his own original theory. Of course, he carefully avoided mentioning that the idea had actually come from an ancient elf from another world. There was no way he was going to explain that part.

Christian was intrigued by the idea and gave him advice on what he could do and how he should practice. But even though Christian was great at giving information, you can only go so much trying to learn through chat. But he still managed to learn a lot.

His latest breakthrough still tingled in his muscles. Yesterday, when his arms had finally transformed fully into silver, the sensation had been electric—literally. Lightning and fire danced across the metallic surface of his skin, no longer fighting against his natural form but flowing through it like water. For ten precious seconds, he'd felt invincible.

"You're progressing faster than I thought," Erwin noted, pride evident in his voice. “Someone trying to transmogrify parts of their body usually takes them months."

"Well, I had a great teacher," Avince smiled, the compliment warming him despite the cold weather.

The sound of the doorbell cut through their conversation. Through the window, he could see Amyra's friends gathering on their front lawn, a farewell party she hadn't expected. Their voices carried through the glass:

"You can't leave without a proper goodbye!"

"We brought your favorite bubble tea!"

"The dragon clan better not change you too much!"

"And you better still text us every day!"

"We made you a scrapbook—everyone signed it!"

Amyra burst through the front door, her eyes already glistening. She threw herself into the group hug, her laugh mixing with sniffles.

"You guys are impossible," she managed between hiccups, accepting the bubble tea with trembling hands. "I thought we agreed no crying!"

"You're the one crying!" her best friend accused, though her own mascara was running.

"Am not!" Amyra protested, wiping her eyes. "It's just... allergies."

Two days passed, morning dew still clung to the grass as the family gathered for departure. The rented car idled in the driveway, its trunk already loaded with their belongings. Avince helped his father tetris the last few bags into the remaining space.

"Before we leave," Ashna began, her keys jingling nervously in her hand, "there's something about your training we need to discuss. The lightning clan—"

"They're sending someone here," Erwin cut in, his expression suggesting he still couldn't quite believe it himself. "To train you personally."

Avince's eyebrows shot up. "Here? As in, living here?"

"Our clan matriarch and patriarch of the lightning clan made this decision over our heads," Erwin said, running a hand through his hair. "Believe me, I tried to understand what the hell they’re thinking, but those old monsters speak in riddles half the time."

"Your father's just annoyed because he won’t ever get the same kind of opportunity '" Ashna added with a slight chuckle.

"Not like I’d want to," Erwin protested. Just you alone was enough of a headache already, imagine two of you."

“What exactly do you guys mean by that?” Avince asked, confused at what his parents were talking about.

“Oh you’ll see”. Erwin said with a small smirk as if making fun of his son.

Avince had more questions but the car's engine revved impatiently. Amyra came from behind and threw her arms around Avince's neck, nearly knocking him over..

"Don't you dare slack off," she whispered fiercely. "When I come back, I expect to see lightning shooting from your eyeballs or something."

Avince laughed, the sound catching in his throat. "No promises about the eyeballs. But I'll do my best."

"And don't forget to water my plants," she added, pulling back to look him in the eye. "If Mr. Whiskers is dead when I get back—"

"Your cactus will be fine," he assured her, ruffling her hair one last time.

He stood in the driveway long after the car disappeared around the corner, until the morning mist had burned away and the neighborhood came alive with the sounds of another day beginning. The empty house loomed behind him, suddenly too quiet, too still.

His hand absently traced the silver patches still flickering across his skin. There was work to be done.