The lantern never went out. The boy was emboldened by its flame, mesmerized as he watched it for hours.

His ears perked up as he heard two plates slide into his room.

“Momma, momma, wake up! The food is getting cold.”

The boy whispered urgently, gently nudging his mother’s shoulder. The boy’s youthful energy quickly lit up the small, dim room.

“I’m coming, sweetie,” she mumbled groggily. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open with the same weariness they always did. It took her a few moments to sit up, her body heavy with the weight of constant exhaustion. Her movements, sluggish, as though every day had bled into the next.

With a soft sigh, she finally swung her legs off the edge of the worn mattress, her feet dragging along the cold, hard floor. Slowly making her way toward the small compartment by the thick, steel-plated door—the only way food came in, or anything ever went out.

Her shoulders slumped as she picked up the tray as if she were attempting to hold a much larger and heavier object. She turned to her son, who sat cross-legged on the floor, his wide eyes gleaming. A smile slowly tugged at her lips.

Without a word, she sat down and began dividing the meal. Her hands quivered slightly as she tore the loaf of bread in two, giving him the larger half. She poured half the beans on his plate and then carefully split the orange; giving him the bigger piece.

Eagerly waiting, the boy wasted no time diving into his food. He tore into the bread first, shoving a chunk into his mouth, barely pausing to breathe.

“Andreas,” his mother said, her voice soft as she glanced at him. Her tired eyes half-amused, half-reprimanding. Andreas met her gaze and knew exactly what she was thinking.

He hesitated, mid-chew, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk’s as he muttered, “I, uh, just used the bathroom anyway.” His words came out garbled, muffled by the bread stuffed in his mouth.

His mother tilted her head down slightly, raising an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean you washed your hands,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

Andreas sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes as he got up. He scurried over to the small corner of their room, where a tiny sink, toilet, and bathtub were tucked away. He scrubbed his hands quickly under the lukewarm water, not wanting any more interruptions as though washing his hands was unnecessary before his feast.

"Okay, okay! Now I can eat!" he shouted as he darted back, practically leaping to his spot on the floor. His mother watched with a soft smile, her expression warming.

Andreas grabbed his bread again, his mouth watering before the loaf reached his lips. "So good..." he murmured, eyes half-closed in satisfaction as the warm, fresh bread melted in his mouth.

His mother chuckled faintly, shaking her head as she began to eat her share, albeit much more slowly. She glanced at her son, watching him savor every bite with such enthusiasm. It was a moment like this where she would almost forget about the walls that surrounded them, or the steel door that had sealed them away. Almost.

The room was silent except for the soft sounds of chewing, the meal’s warmth contrasting with the cold floor beneath them. Andreas didn't seem to notice, his mind fully absorbed in the simple pleasure of eating while his mother stole glances at him between small bites. She watched him briefly, and then, with a faint smile, nudged his shoulder playfully.

“Have I ever mentioned there are other types of bread out there?” she asked, her voice light, but carrying a tinge of mischief.

Andreas, mid-chew, tilted his head, confused. “What do you mean? There’s more than this?”

His mother chuckled, seeing the disbelief on his face. “Sourdough is only one of ma- ny different types of bread. Some have seeds, some taste sweet, and others even have fruit in them–even jelly sometimes.”

Andreas froze, the last bit of bread hovering just inches from his mouth. His eyes widened, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over him. “Fruit? In bread?” he asked skeptically. “That doesn’t make sense. How would you get the fruit in there?”

His mom laughed lightly. “It’s true,” she said, a glimmer of warmth in her eyes. “Once we get out there, I’ll show you. You’ll go insane when you see all that’s possible with just bread.”

Andreas blinked, his mind trying to comprehend the idea.

***

Later on, Andreas and his mother sat together in the small, worn bathtub tucked in the corner of the room. Steam rose from the water, which had surprisingly been warm for once. His mother sat behind him, washing his head, scrubbing the back of his neck and shoulders, while Andreas splashed his hands playfully, causing ripples to scatter across the surface.

“My clean, handsome boy,” she murmured, her voice carrying a warm affection. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“Momma, you say that all the time,” Andreas replied, his face flushing with embarrassment. He ducked his head slightly, his hair now wet and shiny under the light of the dim lantern that hung from the wall.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I’m just reminding you, my love,” she teased, her voice gentle but playful. Andreas splashed the water again, sending tiny droplets flying.

***

After their bath, Andreas jumped out first, his feet landing on the cold, gray floor with a soft thud. He ran over to the door, leaving a trail of droplets, where the small compartment opened to reveal a set of fresh clothes. He eagerly grabbed them, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air.

“Look, Momma! Clothes!” Andreas exclaimed, holding a pair of black breeches and a black tunic.

His mother smiled, carefully stepping out of the tub, water dripping onto the floor as she wrapped a towel around herself. She took her fresh clothes, a thick black linen dress, and began drying off. Slipping into and smoothing it as she turned toward Andreas. Her eyes softened as she watched him fumble with the sleeves, the fabric still too big for his small frame.

“Momma, I want to keep reading the book we read earlier,” Andreas said as he adjusted the sleeves of his tunic.

“The one about the mountains?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Andreas nodded eagerly, his enthusiasm evident as he bounced on his toes. His black hair, still damp, stuck to his forehead as his face lit up in anticipation.

His mother chuckled, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, the old springs creaking under her weight. “Hmm, okay. But we can only read it if you agree to practice your magic first,” she said with a knowing smile.

Andreas’ enthusiasm faltered at that, and his face shifted into a pout. “Momma, I can’t! It’s too hard, and I get really tired,” he grumbled, crossing his arms in protest.

His mother leaned forward, gently resting her hand on his cheek, turning his face back toward her. “The more you practice, the better you'll get at casting your magic,” she said lightly, her thumb brushing against his skin. “Let's just practice for five minutes. If you do well, we can even read two books today.”

Andreas hesitated, his mind torn between the effort of practicing magic and the reward of reading not one but two books. He sighed heavily, his breath visible in the cool air of the room. “Okay…” he muttered reluctantly, knowing she wouldn’t let him skip it this time.

His mother smiled, kissing him on the forehead before standing. “That’s my boy.”

***

Andreas stood in the middle of the room, his bare toes curling against the frigid concrete floor. His breath fogged slightly in the chilly air as he glanced down at his chest, where a faint glow emanated through his shirt. He then glanced at his hand, opening and closing it as doubt gnawed at him.

The soft drip of water from the sink echoed. His mother, standing in the farthest corner by the bathtub, kept her distance, arms wrapped around herself. Her eyes, though filled with hope, reflected the anxiety she felt for him.

Andreas took a deep breath, letting out an unsettled sigh. His heart raced. He knew it all too well. He closed his eyes tightly and extended his left arm, palm outward, shaking slightly as he faced the wall.

His surroundings began to feel smaller as he let out an unsettled sigh.

The hum of his heartbeat filled his ears. Slowly, Andreas’ chest began to glow brighter, casting a soft blue light through his tunic, spreading warmth through his body.

He felt the mana within him stirring, a restless tide building in his chest, the energy pooling and gathering with a pulse of life. It felt chaotic, making his fingers quiver as he willed it to obey.

A ripple of energy surged through his veins, making his muscles twitch involuntarily. He flinched as the pressure mounted, his heart thumping faster with each passing second.

He pulled the energy into his palm and released it.

A beat passed.

Desperation etched itself across his face as he cracked his eyes open. His heart sank. The magic sputtered from his hand in a weak flicker of blue light, barely forming before it fizzled out into nothingness. The dim glow faded almost instantly.

His mother let out a soft sigh, her eyes filled with sorrow. Her face softened as she took in his disappointment, the tension in her shoulders loosening slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated.

"No... no, no, no, please. Come on!" Andreas muttered under his breath, tight with frustration. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a desperate plea for something, anything, to work.

He pushed harder, pulling more mana from his chest, forcing it into his palm. The blue light barely flickered, but in his mind, he thought he could force it to grow. But instead, a creeping darkness began to smother his vision.

Everything started to blur. The room seemed distant as though the space around him was shrinking and collapsing inward. The air grew heavier, thick and oppressive, pressing down on his small frame, making it hard to breathe.

Andreas' hand shook violently, his muscles strained, and the mana in his chest became a dull throb. The more he tried, the worse it got. Panic rose inside him, gut-wrenching fear clawing its way through his body.

“Andreas-” his mother began, her voice laced with concern.

"Please…" he gritted through clenched teeth, fighting against the wave of nausea that hit him hard. His vision dimmed further, the haze wrapping tighter around him like a suffocating blanket. His knees buckled, the world tilting wildly as the floor rushed up to meet him.

His body crumpled before he could catch himself, and everything spun as his strength left him completely. He was done.

Suddenly, a warm presence enveloped Andreas' body, steadying him just as he was about to collapse. Soft arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, holding him tight. "It's okay, my love. I've got you," his mother whispered, her voice gentle and soothing. "You did incredible."

She pulled him into her chest, and he could feel the soft rhythm of her heartbeat against his ear. It was steady and warm, grounding him as the disorientation washed over him in waves.

"You're still learning," she said, her fingers brushing gently through his long, black hair. "It’s going to take time, dear."

The overwhelming sense of failure all came pouring out in a torrent of tears. His body shook as sobs struck, and his face became a mess of tears and mucus. "I can't... I can't do it!" he choked out, the words stumbling from his lips, barely coherent. "I don’t know how!"

His mother held him tighter, rocking him gently as he cried, her embrace unwavering. “Shh,” she whispered, her voice a soft hum that filled the room with warmth. "It’s alright. You don’t have to be perfect. We’ll take it one step at a time."

Andreas' sobs quieted, though his body still twitched from exhaustion. His mother's fingers continued to weave through his hair, comforting him with every stroke, lulling him further into a sense of peace. The tension that had built up inside him slowly began to fade, and his heavy eyelids fluttered as exhaustion finally overwhelmed him.

His breathing slowed, and soon, Andreas fell asleep, nestled securely in his mother’s arms.