[DRAFT] Shift in the Air - The Spy in the Backyard

The summer of 1668 had brought an unrelenting heat to Leeds, it was only the end of June and already a stifling haze clung to the town like a warm blanket. The Daiwik estate, nestled on the outskirts of Leeds by the River Aire, lay quiet under the oppressive sun. Its fields, dry and brittle, stretched out toward the distant tree line, the once vibrant greenery now faded to a dull brown. The stone house, though modest, stood resilient against the heat, its thick walls offering a cool respite from the outside world.

Lucian and Leon darted across the yard, their bare feet kicking up small clouds of dust as they played a lively game of tag. Their laughter echoed in the still afternoon air, masking the tension that had slowly settled into the Daiwik household. Ever since Lucian had accidentally thrown a man into the River Aire with an uncontrolled mysterious power two days ago, the unease in the family had been palpable. They hadn’t spoken of it since, not even in whispers, but it lingered like a shadow in their minds.

Today, however, the tension seemed to fade, if only for a moment. The incident was nearly forgotten in the haze of the summer heat, and the boys, eager to escape their troubles, had decided to play before the sun set and the night brought with it the inevitable unease. High above them, concealed in the dense branches of a towering oak tree, Jiang Li watched in silence.

Her sharp eyes followed the movements of the two boys with unbroken focus. The shadows of the tree provided her with ample cover, though she had little need for it. She had mastered the art of concealment through her years as a Taoist sorcerer, honing her magic to remain invisible to both magical and non-magical eyes. For weeks, Jiang had been spying on the Daiwik family, trying to uncover the source of the magical outbursts that had plagued the estate.

The magical community of Leeds had grown restless, sensing wild, uncontrolled magic emanating from the area. But no one could pinpoint the culprit. With a household of nine and several servants, the magical aura was muddled, making it impossible to identify the source with certainty. Jiang had taken it upon herself to investigate, knowing full well what would happen if the English wizards—especially the one from London—discovered who was behind it first. They would punish the culprit without hesitation, especially if the magic was as unpredictable and dangerous as she suspected.

Jiang knew she had to tread carefully. She was bound by the strict laws of the magical world, laws that forbade her from revealing herself to non-magical folk, or as the British would call them ‘Nullkins’. Breaking those rules would have dire consequences. And while she could cast spells to make someone forget or confuse their memories—such as a tongue twister hex, to prevent them from speaking of what they had seen, or an illusory dream charm, to make them doubt the reality of their experience—these spells were unreliable at best. If a more powerful wizard discovered that a Nullkins had been enchanted, the consequences would be severe.

Thus, Jiang preferred to wait and watch, hidden from view by her blinder’s spell and her mystical cloud. Her cloud, crafted from her deep connection to the elements and spiritual forces, was more than just a means of transport. It was infused with ancient Taoist spells that responded to her will, making it fast, agile, and capable of hovering silently or soaring through the skies with ease. The cloud glowed faintly with a soft, ethereal light, often shifting in shades of white and silver, rendering her nearly invisible during her reconnaissance missions.

Jiang’s eyes narrowed as she watched the twins sprint across the yard. There was something about the way one of those twins moved, a subtle shift in the air around him, almost as if it bent to his will. A faint gust of wind stirred, lifting the dry leaves from the ground and swirling them in a tight spiral around him. Her instincts screamed that probably one of them was the one behind the magical outbursts, but without proof, she couldn’t act.

Was it Lucian, or Leon? Or perhaps even both of them? Jiang had observed the twins for days now, but they were nearly indistinguishable to her eyes. Their dark blond hair framed their young faces in soft fringes, and their blue eyes were as sharp and reflective as the river itself. She had been watching for any clear sign, any moment that would confirm her suspicions, but the twins’ identical appearance made it difficult to discern one from the other.

Lucian suddenly stopped in his tracks, his gaze drawn to the treetops. His eyes narrowed, and Jiang stiffened, her pulse quickening. Was he looking at her? Could he see through her magical barrier? For a moment, their gazes seemed to lock, and Jiang’s heart pounded in her chest. Leon, noticing his brother’s pause, stopped as well. He went to him.

"Lucian, what are you looking at?" Leon’s whisper broke the silence, his voice light with curiosity but tinged with concern. Lucian didn’t answer, his gaze fixated on something. Leon glanced toward the trees, following Lucian’s line of sight.

For a moment, both boys stood there, staring at what seemed to be nothing. But Jiang knew better.

Lucian or Leon was seeing her—or at least a shimmer of her spell, a ball of light floating by the treetops. The boys must have concentrated so hard on seeing through the magical wards encircling the woods that they had expanded their power beyond themselves, unintentionally pulling Leon or Lucian into his vision. She wasn’t sure which one was which. Leon, or Lucian, too, could now see the magical shimmer dancing at the edge of the forest.

Jiang’s breath caught in her throat. Even though she understood the mechanics of it, wow could they see her? How could they pierce the veil of her magic? That’s a strong ability, never seen before.

She needed to test them, to be certain. Perhaps their gaze would follow her if she moved. The one casting the spell would be able to see it first. If one of them did it first, she would know for sure which of them was the source of the magic.

With that thought, Jiang floated higher into the branches, her mystical cloud carrying her upward, trying to bait them into revealing themselves. But before she could move more than a few metres away, Mrs. Eleanor Daiwik’s voice called out from the house.

"Lucian! Leon! Come inside before it gets too dark!"

The magical bubble expanding from Lucian’s consciousness broke the moment he lost his concentration. He and Leon blinked, as though snapping out of a trance, and looked at each other, exchanging a glance that Jiang couldn’t quite read. They turned and ran toward the house. Lucian hesitated for just a moment longer, his gaze flickering back to the trees before he followed his brother inside.

Jiang watched them disappear into the house, her mind racing. She hadn’t been certain which twin was responsible for that unheard of magic ability and the magical outbursts, but now she knew. It was one of the twins.

They had glimpsed her, despite her powerful concealment spells. One of them had expanded his magic without even realising it, pulling his twin into his vision, allowing them both to see through the veil of her magical wards. One of them possessed a power he could not yet control, a power that was growing stronger with each passing day.

The question now was what Jiang should do. Should she reveal herself to one of them, or both and try to help him control his magic before the London wizard arrived? Or should she continue to watch from the shadows, gathering more information before making her move?

One thing was certain: time was running out. The magical community of Leeds was growing more restless by the day, and it wouldn’t be long before the council sent some else to investigate. If they found out the truth about the twins, they wouldn’t be as forgiving as she would. They would punish the one for his uncontrolled magic, or even both of them, regardless of their age or intentions.

Jiang’s jaw tightened as she floated back into the shadows of the tree. She had to act soon—before it was too late.

The Daiwik household was no longer just a place of ordinary family life. It had become a battleground for forces far greater than any of them could understand. And at the centre of it all was a twelve-year-old boy who had yet to realise the true extent of his power.

[DRAFT] Shift in the Air - Mother’s Unease

The summer heat was unbearable, clinging to the Daiwik estate like a suffocating blanket. The estate, a sturdy stone house on the outskirts of Leeds, stood resilient as ever, its thick walls providing some relief from the sweltering heat. Inside, the air was cool, but the atmosphere was far from tranquil.

Eleanor Daiwik stood by the window, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she watched her sons playing outside. Leon had just caught up with Lucian, and the two boys collapsed onto the dry grass, laughing. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but it was fleeting. Behind that smile was a deep and growing worry that had taken root in her heart months ago.

For what felt like forever now, strange occurrences had started to manifest around the house—small, innocuous things at first, easily explained away. A gust of wind that stirred the curtains despite all the windows being closed, a flicker of light when no candle had been lit. At night, she had begun to wake from a restless sleep to see small, bluish lights floating across the floor, vanishing as mysteriously as they appeared.

The most unsettling incident had occurred on Lucian’s birthday in May. She had baked a cake for him and his twin brother, Leon. It had been a festive evening, full of joy and laughter. But the next morning, when Mrs. Daiwik had gone to the kitchen, she found the cake, which had been half-eaten the night before, inexplicably whole again, as if untouched. The servants were confused, insisting they hadn’t seen her bake a new cake, and though Mrs. Daiwik’s heart had raced with unease, she had brushed it off, telling the family she’d baked another because everyone enjoyed it so much. Deep down, she knew the truth was far more unsettling.

Rumours had started to spread among the staff. The maid, in particular, whispered about the house being haunted, claiming she had seen things moving on their own. It wasn’t long before Mrs. Daiwik was forced to take drastic action. She had planted a silver spoon in the maid’s belongings and accused her of theft. The maid was swiftly dismissed, her reputation tarnished, and the whispers stopped. But Mrs. Daiwik knew that silencing the rumours hadn’t eased the tension inside the house—it had merely masked it.

The incidents continued, growing more frequent and far harder to explain away. Doors would slam shut on their own, the chickens in the yard had begun laying eggs that felt like stone, and Lucian... Mrs. Daiwik couldn’t help but worry about him. He sat pale and tired at the breakfast table each morning, his face drawn as though he hadn’t slept. He never complained anymore, not even about the omelettes she made for him—something he had always hated. He simply ate, expressionless, as if the very act of eating was mechanical.

It was Leon who had voiced what Mrs. Daiwik had been thinking. Standing just outside the kitchen door, Mrs. Daiwik had overheard him talking to Leopold in the corridor. She had paused, her breath catching in her throat as she stood silently behind the half-open door to the cellar, listening to their hushed conversation.

"Lucian's been having nightmares," Leon whispered, his voice filled with worry. "I hear him at night, talking in his sleep. It’s like... like he’s afraid of something. But he won’t talk about it."

Leopold, ever the protective older brother, placed a reassuring hand on Leon’s shoulder.

"It’s probably just a phase," he said, though there was an edge of uncertainty in his tone. "He’s been through a lot lately. I’ll keep an eye on him. But let’s not worry the others, alright? We’ll handle it."

Leon nodded, but the worry didn’t leave his face.

"Okay," he muttered, "but I don’t like it, Leopold. Something’s wrong with him."

Mrs. Daiwik’s heart sank as she pressed herself against the cool stone wall of the cellar, her mind racing. Nightmares? Talking in his sleep? She had noticed Lucian's growing unease, but to hear Leon so concerned only deepened her fear. She remembered her mother’s words on the day the twins were born.

“Seven times seven... that’s troubling...” Mrs. Daiwik’s mother whispered to herself as she tended to the newborns. Mrs. Daiwik closed her eyes, pretending to rest and a shiver ran down her spine. She knew about the legends and suspicions her parents had told her and her siblings while growing up, a seventh child of a seventh child is more likely to bring bad omens and attract bad spirits. Was that what was happening to Lucian?

Lucian had always been a quiet boy, content with his own company, but this was different. He was pulling away from the family, spending long hours alone. Sometimes, he would lock himself in his room for hours, refusing to come down for meals. Other times, he would disappear into the woods behind their house, wandering through the trees as though searching for something—or hiding from something. Whenever she asked him about it, he would brush her off, insisting that nothing was wrong. But Mrs. Daiwik could see the changes in him, the darkness that seemed to cloud his once-bright spirit.

As the dusk approached and the sky turned a deep orange, Mrs. Daiwik’s gaze returned to the yard. She watched as Lucian suddenly stopped, his attention fixated on the treetops. Leon joined him moments later, following his brother’s gaze, both of them staring intently at something Mrs. Daiwik couldn’t see.

Her heart skipped a beat. What were they looking at?

"Lucian! Leon!" Her voice trembled slightly as she called out to them. "Come inside before it gets too dark!"

The boys seemed to snap out of whatever trance they were in and ran toward the house, their laughter ringing out as they clattered through the door. But Mrs. Daiwik’s unease didn’t subside. She rubbed her temples, her growing suspicion settling deep within her mind.

It had to be Lucian. All the strange occurrences—the lights, the wind, the cake that reappeared as though by magic—it was all connected to him. Was she imagining things? Was she simply looking for someone to blame, someone to explain the unexplainable? She didn’t know.

Mr. Daiwik had been no help. He had been preoccupied with his upcoming journey to London, too focused on the wool trade and the royal summons to pay attention to her concerns. Whenever she brought it up, he would dismiss her, telling her not to worry, that it was just their imagination. But Mrs. Daiwik knew something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.

As the boys entered the house, Lucian cast one last glance toward the trees. His face was pale but oddly serene, his eyes distant. His scraped knees, dirty from their play, showed fresh wounds. But his mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts Mrs. Daiwik couldn’t reach.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Lucian’s shoulder.

"Lucian," she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady, "come with me for a moment. I’d like to talk to you."

Lucian didn’t resist, but there was a hesitation in his movements. His limbs seemed heavy, as though weighed down by something invisible. Mrs. Daiwik guided him into the parlour, a quiet room at the front of the house with tall windows that let in the fading light. She sat down on one of the upholstered chairs and motioned for him to sit across from her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Mrs. Daiwik studied her son’s face, searching for answers in his pale complexion and tired eyes. Finally, she spoke.

"Lucian," she began carefully, "I’ve noticed you’ve been different lately."

Lucian kept his gaze fixed on his hands, which lay limply over his knees. He didn’t respond.

"I’m worried about you," she continued. "You’ve been spending so much time alone, and... things have been happening around the house. Things I can’t explain."

Still, Lucian said nothing, his face a mask of indifference.

Mrs. Daiwik leaned forward, her voice soft but firm.

"If something is wrong, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I won’t be angry."

Lucian’s eyes flickered toward the window, then back down to the floor. Mrs. Daiwik felt a pang of helplessness. She had hoped that this conversation would bring them closer, that he would open up to her. But it was as though there was a wall between them, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t reach him.

"I don’t know how to help you if you don’t talk to me," she said quietly, more to herself than to him.

Lucian stood up suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

"Everything’s fine, Mum. I’m just tired. I’m going to take a nap."

Before she could protest, he hugged her briefly, then turned and bolted upstairs. Mrs. Daiwik watched him go, the unspoken words pressed on her like a solid stone.

She stood slowly, her heart sinking with the swell of worry. She needed to talk to her husband. Mr. Daiwik had to know what was happening, whether he wanted to believe it or not.

[DRAFT] Shift in the Air - The Summons from London

Thomas Daiwik sat behind his heavy oak desk, his appearance freshly composed—hair recently cut, and beard neatly trimmed, preparing for the upcoming journey. The air of his study felt oppressive, thickened by the fading light of late afternoon as shadows crept in from the corners of the room. The deepening twilight seemed to echo the gravity of the royal summons that lay before him. His study, practical and filled with shelves of ledgers, ink-stained parchments, and the musky scent of wool, felt foreign despite its familiarity.

Outside the window, his sons' faint outlines drifted through the dimming glow, their forms barely distinguishable against the fading twilight. Leon’s laughter rang out, light and carefree, while Lucian stood apart, his gaze distant, as though lost in thoughts far removed from the present. A pang of unease settled in Mr. Daiwik’s chest—whether it was worry for his son or dread for the task ahead, he couldn’t say.

His attention shifted back to the letter on his desk, the royal summons from Whitehall. The once-imposing seal of the Crown had been broken, revealing the carefully penned words of Sir Edward Conway, Secretary of State. Yet it was not Conway himself who would be overseeing the meeting. Bartholomew Barlow, the Clerk of the Signet, would be welcoming him to the palace, guiding the negotiations. The knowledge of such a high-ranking official’s involvement added gravity to the situation. Mr. Daiwik exhaled slowly, his brow furrowed as he reread the details. His wool mill had garnered the attention of the Crown, and the fate of his trade—and possibly more—now rested on the impending journey to London.

“By Royal Command,

To Master Thomas Daiwik, esteemed Merchant and Woolen Mill Owner of the City of Leeds,

Be it known that His Majesty the King doth hereby summon thee to appear at His Court in Whitehall Palace, for the purpose of discussing matters of grave import pertaining to the trade and supply of wool. His Majesty hath taken notice of thy reputation in the wool trade, and deems it necessary to consult thee regarding the procurement of materials for the Royal Wardrobe and the Army’s needs.

Thou art hereby commanded to present thyself at Whitehall no later than the 15th day of July, in the Year of Our Lord 1668, for the purpose of negotiating terms most favourable to the Crown. Thy expertise in this trade is considered indispensable, and thy swift compliance is expected.

Upon arrival at the palace, thou shalt be greeted and thy audience shall be overseen by Bartholomew Barlow, Clerk of the Signet, who shall manage and attend to the handling of this matter, in place of Sir Edward Conway, Secretary of State. Mr. Barlow is entrusted with supervising this trade on behalf of the Crown.

Failure to obey this summons may result in penalties levied by His Majesty’s Government, as is customary in such matters of national interest.

By order of Sir Edward Conway, Secretary of State.

Given under His Majesty's Seal, this day of June, 1668.”

Mr. Daiwik ran a finger over the broken seal, absently tracing the mark as his eyes passed over the words of the letter once more. The formal tone and neat penmanship should have stirred a sense of pride, yet the summons brought an oppressive tension that tightened around his chest. The privilege of being summoned to London—directly by the Crown, no less—was a rare honour, something any merchant might long for. But instead of pride, a creeping unease coiled tightly in his stomach.

It wasn’t the journey itself that troubled him. He had made the trip southward before, navigating the bustling roads from Leeds to London many times. It was the summons itself that felt foreboding, wrapped up in the growing disquiet that had been festering within the Daiwik estate. There was something about the involvement of Bartholomew Barlow, the Clerk of the Signet, overseeing the meeting in place of Sir Edward Conway. The name, though prestigious, unsettled him. A man with such direct access to the King… this meeting would not be an ordinary negotiation. This was deeper, more significant.

His thoughts drifted to the strange occurrences at home. Odd things had been happening, subtle but persistent, like an invisible thread weaving through his daily life. First, there had been the dismissal of the maid for theft—years of loyal service undone by accusations that didn’t quite add up. And then there were the whispered conversations among the servants, abruptly halted when he entered the room. He had overheard just enough to know they spoke of Lucian and his strange behaviour. Leon had grown more watchful too, shadowing his brother, as if he knew something that the rest of the household did not.

And Lucian… his youngest son had been growing more distant, more secretive. Mrs. Daiwik had mentioned it more than once—her worry laced into her words, her voice tight with concern. Lucian’s odd behaviour had been dismissed by Mr. Daiwik, time and again, with the same tired reasoning: ‘Boys will be boys,’ he would say. ‘He is simply growing into his own.’ But as the shadows deepened both outside and within his mind, the doubts began to take root. Was there more to his son’s strange behaviour than he had allowed himself to believe?

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his troubled thoughts. Mrs. Daiwik entered, the soft glow from the hallway casting a warm halo around her figure. Her face, though calm, was drawn with worry, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she nervously wrung the handkerchief she always kept tucked into her apron.

"Thomas," she began softly; her eyes, noticing his troubled recently groomed visage, laced with concern, "are you alright?"

Mr. Daiwik nodded slowly, though the cloud in his thoughts remained just as dense.

"I’ve read the letter again," he said, his voice thick with contemplation. "London calls for me with such haste. This wool trade... It’s unusual, far too abrupt. I thought the rumours in town would cause our trading to slow down, not thrust us into the King's sight so quickly and unexpectedly."

Mrs. Daiwik walked around the desk, stepping closer, her brow knitting in thought as she studied her husband.

"Yes...," she murmured. "Everything about this is happening so strangely. There’s something more here."

Mr. Daiwik exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.

"Bartholomew Barlow himself will oversee the talks," he said, glancing at the letter as if seeking answers within the ink. "The Clerk of the Signet—someone so close to the King. I’ve never dealt with a man of his standing before."

Mrs. Daiwik’s lips pressed into a tight line.

"I've never heard of him, but do you suppose that that Barlow person might know of the rumours stirring in town? Could it all be connected somehow?"

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, full with the fears they had not yet voiced. Mr. Daiwik leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as it wandered to the darkened window, where the last traces of daylight had vanished. The backyard quite now.

"Those rumours... they’ve barely begun," he whispered, his voice tinged with doubt. "They can’t have reached London so quickly… can they?"

He shook his head slightly.

"But still, something is troubling me, Eleanor. Something I can’t quite put my finger on." He looked up at her, his expression softer, more vulnerable than he intended. "I fear this summons bears more meaning than what’s written on the page."

Mrs. Daiwik gently placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

"Whatever it is, we shall have to face it. You cannot refuse a direct summons from the palace. But promise me you’ll be cautious, Thomas. The palace has its own plans, and they wouldn’t call on you without reason."

Mr. Daiwik nodded, though the knot in his chest refused to loosen.

"The departure is approaching," he said quietly. "I need to be prepared. Not just for business, but for whatever else awaits in London."

His wife squeezed his shoulder gently, offering a quiet reassurance.

"I’ll make sure everything is ready on my end for your departure."

She paused for a moment, unsure how to bring up the subject.

“Thomas, before you depart, I need your help…” she tried carefully, her voice quieter than usual, laced with anxiety. “You need to speak to Lucian before you leave. Something’s not right… something’s different about him.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his temples as though he could dispel both his headache and his anxiety that his wife’s mounting fears could indeed be true.

“Eleanor, we’ve discussed this. Lucian’s just a boy. You’re worrying too much…”

But she shook her head, leaning in, her voice firm and unyielding.

“No, Thomas. This is more than just boyhood mischief. I just tried to talk to him. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes and he looked so pale…” Mrs. Daiwik’s eyes filled with tears. “There’s… there’s something I can’t explain. I saw him just now, standing out in the yard. And Leon—Leon was watching him, just standing there too, as if they were both caught in something. It wasn’t natural.”

His frown deepened, though he resisted the urge to dismiss her again.

“Natural? Eleanor, this is—”

“I know how it sounds,” she interrupted, her gaze imploring him to listen. “But it’s more than that. The strange occurrences around the house... The lights hovering, the noises at night, the animals avoiding him. And I’m not the only one who’s noticed. The servants whisper about it, and they are afraid. I am afraid. I think... I think Lucian might be behind all of it.”

Mr. Daiwik looked into his wife’s eyes and saw the fear there—genuine, raw, and unwavering. He could tell this wasn’t some passing concern; it was something deeper. He wanted to reassure her, to say it was all nonsense, the imagination of a mother overwrought with concern for her youngest son. But the impact of her words settled over him, undeniable and suffocating.

He rose from his desk, his broad shoulders slumping slightly under the burden of her worry and his own growing sense of dread.

“I’ll speak to him,” He spoke at last, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of resignation. “Before I leave, I’ll talk to him.”

Mrs. Daiwik nodded, though the tension in her frame did not ease.

“Thank you. Well, and have you scheduled your departure with the coachman?” Trying to change the uncomfortable subject.

“Yes. We’ll be leaving at the crack of dawn the day after tomorrow,” he replied. “It’ll ensure me enough time to manage any unforeseen issues along the way and arrive in London one or two days before the 15th. Jacob tended to the horses today and tomorrow Oswald will manage the coach.”

“Alright. I’ll prepare some provisions for you and the coachman along the way.” She glanced at the scattered letters on the desk and then back at him.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“I just want to know our son is safe, Thomas. And I want to understand... whatever it is that’s happening here.”

As he stood there, the room dimly lit by the fading light of the setting sun, Mr. Daiwik felt the gravity of both the call to London and the silent pull from his own family. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty—whether it led to the heart of London or into the very depths of his own household.

He watched as Mrs. Daiwik quietly left the room, her silhouette disappearing into the darkened hallway. He remained standing, staring after her, his mind racing. He had always been a man of reason, one who trusted in the tangible and the concrete, in business and trade. But this... this was something else. Something unknown.

The flicker of candlelight played off the walls, casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the wind picked up, howling faintly against the windows, and for the first time, Thomas Daiwik felt truly afraid—not of the summons to London, but of what he might discover within his own home.

[DRAFT] Mr. Daiwik’s Departure - Family Breakfast

The morning sun filtered through the narrow windows of the Daiwik estate, casting faint golden light across the wooden floorboards of the attic. Dust particles floating lazily in the room, stirred only by the faintest breath of wind slipping through the cracks. Mrs. Eleanor Daiwik ascended the narrow, creaking stairs to wake her sons, her heart weighed down by the thoughts that had troubled her throughout the night.

At the top of the stairs, she hesitated before opening the door to Lucian and Leon’s room. The attic was dim, the low wooden beams casting long shadows over the two small beds nestled in opposite corners. Leon, as usual, had already risen, his bed left in a messy state, but Lucian remained buried under his blankets, curled into himself.

Mrs. Daiwik quietly crossed the room, her feet making soft sounds against the cold floor. She bent down to gently shake Lucian’s shoulder. His body stiffened under her touch, and his breathing came out in short, shallow gasps, as though he had just awoken from a nightmare. She could feel the tension in him, even before his eyes fluttered open, revealing the wide, blue gaze that had so often unsettled her of late.

“Lucian,” she whispered gently, “It’s time to get up. Breakfast is ready, and your father leaves tomorrow by the crack of dawn. We’re all gathering to enjoy a last breakfast with him.”

Lucian’s response was barely a whisper, his voice rough from sleep.

“I’m not hungry.”

Mrs. Daiwik’s heart clenched at the words. For the past few weeks, Lucian had been growing more and more withdrawn, the once playful boy now seemed constantly lost in thought, or worse, in some place beyond their reach. She tried again, her tone more coaxing.

“Come down, even if it’s just to sit with us. Your father wants to see you before he leaves for London tomorrow.”

Lucian remained silent, his eyes flicking towards the window as though longing to be anywhere but there. Mrs. Daiwik placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing the star-shaped birthmark that adorned his face.

“Please, Lucian.”

With a heavy sigh, Lucian sat up slowly, still not meeting her eyes. He nodded, though his movements were stiff, mechanical. He would go downstairs, not for himself, But because he could sense his mother’s concern enveloping him like a cloak, its presence impossible to ignore.

Satisfied but not reassured, Mrs. Daiwik stood and turned to leave. As she reached the doorway, she heard the soft rustling of blankets behind her. Lucian was getting up. She glanced back once, and for a fleeting moment, saw something in his expression—something she could not place. A quiet sorrow, or perhaps fear. But before she could speak again, he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and the moment passed.

Downstairs, the family gathered in the dining room, the table set for breakfast. The smell of fresh bread and porridge filled the air, but the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension. Thomas Daiwik sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The royal summons lingered in his thoughts, an inescapable presence that refused to leave him in peace. His fingers drummed idly on the table’s edge, the rhythmic tapping a reflection of the disquiet stirring within him.

Mrs. Daiwik entered the room, her movements brisk but not without a heaviness that mirrored the concern she carried.

Maggie rushed to her, giving her napkins and setting up freshly baked bread on her plate.

“Thank you, maggie.” She said her voice low and worried. “We would like a quiet family breakfast, please go and tell the others to enjoy your breakfast in your quarters this morning. You are dismissed.”

Maggie bowed her head and replied.

“Yes Ma’am, thank you Ma’am.” She left the dining room quietly.

Mrs. Daiwik’s eyes flickered toward the staircase, a faint hope that Lucian would appear any moment. But there was no sound from above, and her worry deepened. Mr. Daiwik noticed his wife’s unease, casting a glance toward her with questions in his eyes, though she remained silent and averted her gaze.

“I’ll talk to him,” Mr. Daiwik said suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. His voice was firm, but there was a hint of frustration beneath the surface. He looked first at his wife, then at each of his children in turn.

“I’ll speak to Lucian before I leave. Do not worry, Eleanor. And all of you”—his gaze moved pointedly around the table—“make sure you help your mother with anything she needs. Especially when it comes to Lucian. Do you understand?”

His words lingered between them, rich with meaning. The younger children shifted uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging uneasy glances. Leopold, the eldest, was the first to speak, his tone calm but edged with concern.

“We understand, Father, but…” He hesitated, glancing around the table to reassure that he and his family were alone. He cleared his throat and then spoke firmly. “But Lucian’s been acting strange for weeks now. You’ve seen it, too. He disappears for hours, and when he’s around, he barely speaks. We’ve all noticed.”

Linda, seated across from Leopold, shot him a sharp look.

“He’s not strange. He’s just… different. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Lewis, who had been leaning back in his chair, scoffed and crossed his arms.

“Different? I’ve seen the way things happen around him. Flowers blooming when he walks by, lights hovering mid-air after he leaves the room, windows cracking. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Leon, who had remained silent, lifted his head sharply, his eyes narrowing at his siblings.

“That doesn’t mean anything. He can do strange things, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Linda nodded in agreement, her face set in quiet determination.

“He’s special! I think he’s magical.” She said with fascination in every word.

“I hope he is not!” Lena, who had been sitting quietly, her hands folded in her lap, finally spoke, her voice low and filled with apprehension. “Magical I mean. otherwise they will accuse him and us of witchcraft and… if it is, I’m… I’m already afraid of him. What if he can’t control it?”

Luke, whose mind often seemed to drift elsewhere, shrugged.

“I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. I mean, he did look sick yesterday after school, but I reckoned it was because we ran back home. After a nap he was right as rain… I… guess…”

Luke stared at Leon, his eyebrows arching high in genuine surprise at the unexpected reaction. Across from him, Leon's face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes wide and almost pleading. He gave a slight, urgent shake of his head, silently willing Luke to stop speaking, the unspoken message clear in the intensity of his gaze.

Lewis pressed on, his voice rising slightly.

“Lucian is ok, you all worry too much,” Luked added, swiftly.

“What if Lucian does something outside the house? What if people start to notice? It could be dangerous, for him and for us.”

Before the conversation could spiral further, Mr. Daiwik held up a hand, silencing them.

“Enough.” His gaze was stern as he addressed his children. They fell into an uneasy silence, their father’s word lingered heavily over them. “It doesn’t matter what Lucian is or what he’s doing. What matters is this family. We must protect our name, our reputation. If Lucian is different, we will guide him. We will help him control whatever it is. You all are his siblings, and it is your duty to stand by him.”

As soon as Mr. Daiwik paused, their voices rose again, overlapping in a cacophony of opinions. Leopold tried to talk over his siblings, expressing his fear of the family reputation being tarnished. Linda insisted that Lucian was harmless, Lena expressed her fear, and Lewis argued that Lucian’s weirdness could draw unwanted attention. Leon sat quietly, his fists clenched, while Luke absentmindedly stared out the window.

Mrs. Daiwik, who had remained quiet, watching the exchange with a tight expression, finally spoke.

“Thomas, this isn’t just about the family name.” She said calmly and in a firm tone, and yet her tone silenced all the noise at once. Leon looked up, hanging on each word his mother uttered. “This is about Lucian. He’s our son, and something is clearly happening to him. We can’t ignore it.”

Mr. Daiwik frowned, the tension between him and his wife now palpable.

“I’m not ignoring it, Eleanor. But we must be practical. If we overreact, we risk drawing attention to something that should remain within this house.”

“I’m not talking about overreacting,” she replied, her voice rising slightly. “I’m talking about understanding what’s happening to our son. He’s not just ‘different,’ Thomas. He’s suffering.”

The children were silent as their parents’ argument unfolded before them. The air in the room grew thick with discomfort, each child exchanging nervous glances. Leon, always protective of Lucian, looked as though he wanted to speak, but he held his tongue. He was afraid of saying more than he should.

Upstairs, Lucian had descended halfway down the stairs, stopping just short of the dining room. He had heard every word—his siblings’ doubts, their fears, and his parents’ argument. It was like a cold knife twisting in his chest, each word driving it deeper. He wanted to scream, to tell them that he wasn’t a monster, that he didn’t understand what was happening either.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hear any more. Silently, he turned and retreated back upstairs, his heart sinking under the impact of their words. He felt like a stranger in his own family—something different, something other. And the thought of his father leaving only deepened the sense of abandonment settling in his chest.

As he reached his room, he closed the door softly behind him, sinking onto the edge of his bed. The house, once a place of comfort and safety, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him. His mind raced with thoughts he couldn’t fully grasp, a storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Back downstairs, the dining room was eerily quiet, a faint clop of hooves from outside cut through the tension. Mr. Daiwik’s expression shifted, the argument forgotten for a moment as he rose from the table. He walked out of the dinning room to the living room, peering out of the window to the front yard, and saw a figure approaching the house.

Mrs. Daiwik stood and joined him, her brow furrowing as she caught sight of the unknown visitor.

“What is it?” she asked softly.

Mr. Daiwik glanced at his wife, his voice quiet but filled with a sense of foreboding.

“It seems we have a visitor.” He left the window and positioned himself by the front door. Waiting. His hand rested on the doorknob, his expression unreadable as he prepared to meet their unexpected guest. The royal summons, the argument, Lucian—everything weighed heavily on him, but for now, he pushed it aside, knowing that whatever awaited him outside would not be easily ignored.

[DRAFT] Mr. Daiwik’s Departure - The Unexpected Visitor

In the early morning before Mr. Daiwik’s departure, a knock on the door echoed through the house, sharp and authoritative, cutting through the family breakfast. Mr. and Mrs. Daiwik were already by the door, they opened it to find a constable standing on the front step, his uniform stark against the background of the bright morning sun. His expression was grave, and behind him, a small gathering of curious onlookers had begun to form.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Daiwik,” the constable said, his voice formal. “My name is Constable Murdoch, I’ve come to conduct some inquiries concerning an incident reported near the river.”

He stood tall and imposing, with a frame that filled the doorway. His dark woollen coat, buttoned up to his neck, had the sheen of officialdom, giving him a sense of authority that was hard to ignore. The brass buttons on his coat glinted faintly in the light, matching the polished badge pinned to his chest. His hat, perched neatly on his head, cast a shadow over his sharp, angular features, giving his already stern expression an air of mystery. His eyes, however, were sharp and alert, missing nothing as they flickered from Mrs. Daiwik to the inside of the house. His black leather boots were scuffed from constant use, and his belt, fitted with various tools of his trade, hung low on his waist. Even without speaking, his presence commanded attention.

Mrs. Daiwik’s heart skipped a beat.

“What incident?”

The constable cleared his throat, shifting his weight slightly.

“A man was thrown in the River Aire yesterday. There are allegations… rumours, really, that your children may have been involved in throwing him in.”

Outrage flashed across Mr. and Mrs. Daiwik’s face.

“That’s absurd! My children would never—” Mrs. Dawiwk’s voice wavered with both disbelief and anger. “You cannot seriously believe they had anything to do with this.”

Behind her, Mr. Daiwik had stepped forward, his towering presence amplifying the meaning of her words.

“Excuse my wife’s exaltation, but she is absolutely right! These are baseless accusations, constable. Our children are just children. I assure you, my sons and daughters would never be involved in any way with a situation like this.”

The constable held up a hand, a gesture meant to placate.

“I’m simply following protocol, sir. We’re not here to accuse anyone, but I must speak to the children involved.” He looked down at his handbook and read out loud. “Three lads were involved, one was young and tall and two of them were the younger twins”.

Mrs. Daiwik hesitated, her protective instincts flaring up, but she knew there was no use in fighting the law. She turned to Lewis, who had appeared in the hallway, watching the conversation unfold.

“Go and fetch Lucian, Leon and Luke.” Told her to Lewis sharply. Lewis went up the first flight of stairs right away. She turned to the constable

“The three of them came home together yesterday… after school.”

Lewis stormed up the stairs, his footsteps brisk and pounding, each step driven by the simmering resentment coursing through him.

‘Lucian. It must have been Lucian’, he thought bitterly. His fists clenched as he ascended. It was always Lucian. His brother, with his odd behaviour, his strange silences, and the unnatural things that happened around him, had become a magnet for trouble. And now, it seemed, that trouble was about to bring ruin upon the family. The constable was downstairs because of him.

“Why does he always drag us into his mess?” Lewis muttered under his breath as he reached the second floor, passing the closed doors to their siblings’ rooms.

He continued up the narrow flight of stairs that led to the attic, his resentment building with each step. When he reached the attic door, he didn’t knock. Instead, he pushed it open, finding Lucian sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly out of the small window that looked over the distant trees and the river beyond. The boy seemed oblivious to his surroundings, lost in some distant thought or dream. Lewis scowled.

"Hey. Get up." His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence of the attic. "Mum needs you downstairs right now."

Lucian didn’t move at first, his gaze still fixed on something far beyond the window. Lewis stepped forward, irritation bubbling up.

“Did you hear me? I said get up! The constable’s downstairs, and he wants to talk to you. You’re bringing bad luck to us all, you know that?” His voice dropped into a muttered accusation. “They think you’re the one behind the river incident. They’re waiting to question you.”

Lucian slowly turned his head toward his brother, his expression blank. Without a word, he rose from the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. Lewis rolled his eyes, unable to shake the feeling that his brother wasn’t all there, that he was somewhere else entirely. Always lost in his own world, Lewis thought as he turned and led the way back downstairs.

Lucian followed Lewis down the stairs silently, his feet moving automatically, though his mind was still far away. The words his brother had said—the constable thinks you’re the one—echoed in his mind, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. He knew what had happened by the river, but he didn’t understand it. He hadn’t meant to... do anything. Yet, somehow, the man had fallen, and the river had taken him. He tried to keep his mind blank, his feelings and his powers under control.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Lewis turned to Lucian, his face a mixture of frustration and something else—fear, perhaps.

"Wait here," he muttered, leaving Lucian standing awkwardly in the hallway. Lucian stood there, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his mind still spinning as he stared at the closed front door, knowing that beyond it, the constable waited.

Lewis turned toward the dining room, where Leon and Luke were still seated at the breakfast table, finishing the remnants of their meal. The rest of the family had already dispersed, leaving the younger brothers to themselves. Lewis entered the room, his face set in a scowl.

"Leon. Luke. Mum needs you… Now." His voice was sharp, and the brothers looked up in unison, confusion crossing their faces.

"What is going on?" Leon asked, his brow furrowed.

"The constable’s here," Lewis said flatly. "He’s asking about what happened at the river yesterday. Wants to talk to all three of you."

Luke’s eyes widened slightly, a mixture of excitement and worry flickering across his face.

"He’s here? In his uniform?"

"What difference does it make?!” asked Lewis.

Luke blushed.

“But yeah, he’s in the parlour with Mum and Dad," Lewis said, impatiently motioning for them to get up. "Come on, don’t keep them waiting."

Leon glanced at Luke, and without a word, the two boys stood from the table and followed Lewis out of the room. As they passed through the hallway, they found Lucian standing exactly where Lewis had left him, his pale face and distant eyes a stark contrast to the tension swirling around them.

Leon shot him a quick, reassuring look as they approached the front room. Luke, however, couldn’t resist leaning toward Lucian and whispering,

"What did you do this time?"

Lucian didn’t respond, he only shrugged. He wasn’t sure he had an answer.

Mr. and Mrs. Daiwik stood to the side, their faces tight with worry, as the constable began his line of questioning. Lucian, Leon, and Luke sat stiffly in the chairs, their small frames dwarfed by the imposing figure of the constable standing before them. Lucian’s heart raced in his chest, his hands folded tightly in his lap, while Leon sat beside him, his face pale but composed. Luke, on the other hand, seemed more interested in the constable’s uniform than the serious matter at hand.

“Where were you yesterday afternoon, lads?” the constable asked, his tone professional, though not unkind. His voice carried the weight of authority, making it clear this was not a simple inquiry.

Leon was the first to speak, his voice quiet but steady despite the nervousness he felt.

“We were at school until later, then we came straight home.”

“And can anyone vouch for your whereabouts during that time?” the constable asked, his quill poised over the notebook in his hand.

Mrs. Daiwik immediately stepped forward, her voice firm and protective.

“Yes, I can. I saw them coming home together after school.”

The constable nodded, scribbling a note before looking back at the boys.

“There are claims that you three were seen near the river, moments before a man was thrown in. Then you ran. Do you know anything about this?”

Lucian’s heart seemed to stop for a moment, the constable’s question bore down on him. That feeling inside started to stir. He wanted to scream, to tell them that it wasn’t what they thought, that it hadn’t happened the way they believed. But his voice caught in his throat. Instead, he shook his head, echoing the same motion his brothers made.

“We got scared,” Leon said, his voice trembling slightly. “That man… he has been following us since school. We didn’t know who he was, and when I noticed, we started walking faster. Then he started walking faster as well.”

“Yeah,” Luke chimed in, talking fast now. “We didn’t mean to run, but he kept getting closer. So we ran back home. We were already close. I went straight inside, but when I looked back, I was alone, Lucian and Leon came in a second later.”

Leon nodded in agreement, his eyes wide as he looked at the constable.

“We heard him shout and when Lucian and I looked back, he was falling into the river. That’s why we stopped. We didn’t touch him. We didn’t push him. We weren’t even that close to the river.”

Lucian swallowed hard, feeling the words cling to his throat and the feelings starting to stir more violently in his guts. He gave a slow nod, unable to meet the constable’s gaze.

The constable stood before them, his posture stiff, Eyes darting from one face to the next as the room seemed to close in, the tension palpable in every breath. Silence lingered for a long, uncomfortable moment before he finally closed his notebook with a decisive snap. The noise cut through the tension like a blade.

“Very well,” he said, his voice measured. “I’m satisfied with your answers for now. I don’t think three young lads like you could’ve thrown a grown man into the river, but the townsfolk are talking. I had to check.”

His eyes lingered on Lucian a beat longer than necessary, as if searching for something unsaid.

A visible wave of relief washed over Mrs. Daiwik’s face. She exhaled softly, but the tension in the room refused to dissipate entirely. Mr. Daiwik, sitting beside her, glanced between the constable and his wife, his brow furrowed. The momentary reprieve wasn’t enough to soothe his worries.

As the constable began to rise from his chair, ready to take his leave, Mr. Daiwik’s voice cut through the air, stern and unyielding.

“Wait a moment.”

The constable paused, surprised, and Mr. Daiwik stood to face him. His presence was commanding, his expression stern.

“Who was this man?” Mr. Daiwik demanded, his voice low but sharp. “And will you also question him about why he’s been following and scaring my children?”

Lucian, who had been watching silently from his corner, lifted his gaze. The question echoed his own thoughts. A stranger had been following them, a man Lucian had never seen before. After the rumours that spread through town, after the unsettling feeling of being watched—who was he? And more importantly, what did he want?

The constable hesitated, his eyes shifting to the floor for a moment before meeting Mr. Daiwik’s steely gaze.

“Well...” He drew in a breath, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I would have questioned him, Mr. Daiwik, before I came here. The thing is… no one knows who he is. The people who pulled him out of the river said he was fine—shaken but unharmed. He left in a hurry, and then…” the constable’s voice trailed off, unease creeping into his tone. “He just vanished. Left town, I suppose. No one knows who he was, and no one has seen him since.”

Mr. Daiwik’s eyes widened, incredulity etched into every line of his face. He exchanged a look with his wife, and the colour seemed to drain from her already pale cheeks.

“So, you’re telling us,” Mr. Daiwik began, his voice rising in restrained anger, “that the man who followed my children home is out there somewhere, and we have no idea who he is?”

The constable shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of his uniform.

“Well, I don’t believe he’s a fugitive or anything, Mr. Daiwik. He’s just… nobody seems to know him. The townsfolk said he looked like an outsider, dressed in a cloak, but…”

Mr. Daiwik’s expression darkened, and he stepped toward the constable, his imposing figure causing the other man to take a half-step back instinctively. The air between them crackled with tension.

“Tomorrow morning,” Mr. Daiwik said, his voice cold and dangerous, “I leave for London to meet with the king. For your sake, Mr…” His voice dropped to a near growl. “Constable Murdoch, you will do everything in your power to keep my family safe while I am gone. I don’t care if the man left town, I don’t care if he’s a foreigner—make sure my children aren’t followed home by strangers again. And do not, under any circumstances, interrogate my children with unfounded accusations ever again. Do you understand me?”

Constable Murdoch swallowed hard, his face paling slightly as Mr. Daiwik’s words settled over him with a quiet intensity.

“Yes, sir. I… I understand. I’ll make sure they’re safe.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Daiwik’s voice was sharp as a blade. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have packing to do.”

The constable nodded hastily, his composure cracking.

“Of course. I’ll… I’ll send a guard tomorrow morning to escort your children to and from school. Just as a precaution, Mrs. Daiwik.”

Mrs. Daiwik managed a tight smile, though the tension around her eyes remained.

“Thank you, Constable. That’s very kind of you.”

Mr. Daiwik led the constable toward the front door, the two of them discussing the arrangements for the guard as they went. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room in a suffocating silence.

Lucian, who had been trembling slightly, glanced up at his mother. Their eyes met, and for the first time, Lucian saw it clearly—the flicker of doubt. There, in the way her gaze lingered on him, was a faint shadow of fear. She didn’t say it aloud, but he could feel it—the unspoken question: What are you hiding, Lucian?

Her silent accusation enveloped him like a shroud, an invisible force that seemed to cling to his very soul. And deep down, in the darkest corners of his mind, Lucian feared he didn’t know the answer.

He stood there, frozen, as the world around him seemed to tilt, his mother’s unease now an undeniable presence in the room. Even as the voices of his father and the constable faded beyond the door, Lucian knew things were changing. Whatever this power was, whatever he had done… it couldn’t be hidden forever.

[DRAFT] Mr. Daiwik’s Departure - Anxious Goodbyes

The early morning light filtered through the mist rising from the River Aire, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the Daiwik estate. The world felt hushed, the only sound the gentle rustling of the leaves and the occasional clatter of hooves as the horses waiting by the carriage shifted impatiently. The scent of fresh hay mingled with the cool breeze, creating an odd sense of calm in the air—calm that belied the tension coursing through the household.

In the front yard, Thomas Daiwik stood tall, his figure a silhouette against the pale dawn. His face, usually composed and determined, was marked with lines of worry. This trip to London, though a matter of business, felt different, weighed down by the unsettling occurrences of the past weeks. He had long tried to ignore them, brush them aside as mere coincidences or the result of overworked imaginations. But deep within, a creeping doubt began to take root, slowly winding its way through his thoughts.

Behind him, the children gathered, watching their father as he spoke quietly to the servants who were loading the last of his luggage into the carriage. Leon and Lena stood together, their expressions subdued. They had sensed the change in the atmosphere, the invisible tension that had wrapped itself around their home, tightening with each passing day. Lucian, however, stood apart from them, his back slightly hunched, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn tunic. His eyes, usually so full of quiet curiosity, now looked distant, as though he were seeing something beyond the rolling hills and mist-covered trees.

The events of the previous day still weighed heavily on him—the constable’s questions, the lingering doubt in his mother’s eyes. And then there was the power inside him, a force he didn’t understand, couldn’t control, but felt growing stronger with every breath. It scared him, this thing within him, and more than anything, he feared what it might do next.

Leopold approached their father first, his steps hesitant but steady. He embraced him tightly, burying his face in their father’s broad chest for a moment before stepping back.

"Take care of the family while I'm gone," Mr. Daiwik said, his voice quiet but firm. Leopold nodded, his eyes solemn.

Lena and Linda followed, their embrace more delicate, the sadness etched into their young features. Luke and Lewis hugged Mr. Daiwik shortly and quickly, saying their goodbyes. He smiled, patting them gently on the shoulder before turning his gaze to Lucian and Leon.

Mr. Daiwik approached his youngest sons slowly, his steps measured. Lucian didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the ground as if it could offer him some sort of solace. Leon took a step forward and hugged him,

“Take care dad, and bring me some chocolate, when you return!” He hugged him back laughing. When Mr. Daiwik placed a hand on Lucian’s shoulder, Lucian finally looked up, his blue eyes meeting his father’s for a fleeting moment before drifting away again.

"Lucian," Mr. Daiwik began, his tone softer than it had been with the others. "Take care of your mother while I’m gone. And if anything strange happens…" His voice trailed off, his eyes searching Lucian’s face, as if he could see the secrets his son was holding onto. "Tell me when I return."

Lucian swallowed hard, nodding silently. But inside, a storm was raging. How could he explain the strange things happening around him, things that even he didn’t understand? His father’s words felt heavy, like they were pushing him further into the shadows of his own mind.

Mr. Daiwik sighed, sensing the distance between them but unsure how to bridge it. He gave Lucian’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping away, moving toward the carriage with a final glance at his family.

"I’ll return soon," he said, Though his words lingered, carrying an uncertain tension that filled the space between them.

As the horses began to trot, pulling the carriage down the dirt path that led away from the estate, Lucian stood frozen, watching as his father disappeared into the distance. Each turn of the wheels felt like it was pulling him further away from the safety of the only person who might have been able to help him. The sheer force of it all—the secrets, the power, the isolation—loomed within his chest, growing with each breath, threatening to engulf him.

He was alone. Truly alone.

From the shadows of the nearby woods, a figure moved silently, her sharp eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her. Jiang Li, the Taoist sorcerer, had been watching the Daiwik family for weeks, her senses finely tuned to the ripples of magic that emanated from their estate. She knew one of the twins, Lucian or Leon, was the source, though she hadn’t yet pinpointed which of them it was. The power, however, was growing stronger by the day, more volatile, and soon it would be impossible to contain.

Jiang Li’s face remained still, her expression unreadable. Her dark hair was pulled back in a neat braid, and her slender fingers, barely moving, traced the symbols of her craft against the bark of the tree she hid behind. She had mastered the art of blending into her surroundings, her clothing—an elegant mix of British and Chinese fabrics—allowing her to remain unnoticed by both magical and non-magical eyes. This time, she was careful not to use the same tactics as before. Instead, she used her magic and the thick trees to conceal herself completely.

Jiang Li had been in England for years now, searching for the magical artefacts that had been stolen from her back in China and brought to this foreign land. She suspected the Daiwik family could be involved, though how deeply, she still didn’t know. Perhaps the boys had stumbled upon the magic, using it unknowingly, or maybe the artefacts had been sold to the family by a merchant. The possibilities swirled in her mind, but certainty eluded her. One thing was clear: the disturbances were growing too frequent and powerful to be ignored.

As Mr. Daiwik’s carriage finally disappeared from view, Jiang Li whispered softly to herself in her native tongue, her voice barely audible above the rustling of the leaves.

"它开始了 (It begins)."

His departure meant only one thing—that man from London would arrive soon, the one whose very presence could change everything for the Daiwik family. She knew he would bring with him questions, suspicions, and danger.

Jiang Li's jaw clenched in resolve. She had been sent by the Leeds Elders to spy and report, however now she would also protect the twin responsible for the magic. The situation was becoming more complicated than she’d anticipated. Her loyalty to the elders was unwavering, but her personal secret mission—to retrieve what was rightfully hers—was equally pressing. Balancing the two would be dangerous, but Jiang Li was no stranger to danger.

She would have to make her next moves carefully, more carefully than ever before. The time to act was nearing, and once the man from London arrived, things would change for everyone. Jiang Li’s role as a protector and a spy was about to collide with her deeper, more personal ambitions.

She stood silently for another moment, her eyes narrowing as the breeze stirred the leaves around her. Then, with a determined look, she turned and melted back into the woods, her mind already racing through the preparations she needed to make.

Back in the yard, Leon approached Lucian, his brows furrowed with concern. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant clop of hooves faded as the two brothers stood in the quiet stillness that had settled around them.

“Are you alright?” Leon asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand hovered just above Lucian’s arm, hesitating before making contact, as if unsure whether a touch would ease his twin's pain or add to the load he bore.

Lucian didn’t answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the space where their father had been just moments ago, but his thoughts were miles away. They spiralled in a vortex of confusion and fear, the past weeks pressed on him like never before.

“Something’s wrong, Leon,” Lucian finally whispered, his voice trembling with uncertainty. He looked up, his blue eyes wide and clouded with fear. “Something… that weird ‘power’ inside me. I can’t control it.”

Leon’s eyes widened in surprise, the hint of fear flickering across his face before he quickly masked it with a smile. His heart raced, but he forced himself to remain calm, to be the solid anchor Lucian so desperately needed. He offered a reassuring nod.

“I know it’s scary, Lucian, but don’t worry,” Leon said softly, his voice carrying more confidence than he truly felt. “You’re not going through this alone. If anything happens, talk to me. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.”

He smiled at his twin, though the unease lingered in his own chest. The fear of the unknown was as palpable for him as it was for Lucian. But he had to be strong—for both of them.

Yet, despite Leon’s words, Lucian felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. He had always been different, even before the strange powers had begun to manifest. He preferred the quiet company of the woods and the river to the busy marketplace or the laughter of their siblings. And now, with this force growing inside him—something wild, uncontrollable—he felt even more cut off from the world around him.

The morning mist was beginning to lift, and with it, Lucian felt a deep ache coil tightly within his chest, as if something intangible had woven itself into his very being. He couldn’t keep hiding from whatever this was. He needed to understand it, to control it before it spiralled out of his grasp and consumed everything he cared about.

As he stood there, making a silent vow to himself, a dark flicker pulsed within him—a warning, a brief surge of energy that made his skin prickle. It was a reminder of the battle he knew was still to come, the struggle that would test not only his power but his place within the family he loved.

“Alright,” Lucian said finally, his voice steady but his heart racing. “Let’s try… and see what happens.”