After a year of monotonous routine, I had free time for the first time (if one ignored that as a baby, every moment was free time), enforced by my father. He explained the first manaflows in the body was hostile to the body itself, so to speak. I was very limited to my vocabulary and that’s the limit to my understanding. But “no no, auchie auchie” was easy enough to make sense of.

I made my mother tell this to me, but clearer. I don’t know if it is because maternal instincts, but mother communicated words in an easier way to understand than father. Figures.

Tel’men’ora, the art of flowing mana through one’s body, can cause negative results to a child if practiced frequently. The first one is a lot more intense than the consequent ones. A world of difference in wording, huh. Obviously, this wasn’t what she said word by word, but a recreation using my own vocabulary after hearing her coherent, albeit sluggish, explanation.

Mana also seemed to be toxic to a certain degree. Like they said, the dose makes the poison.

No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t know they said that. Damn it! When will these lagoons stop?

In result, no magic for an indefinite period.

The news was a bummer to me. I finally felt useful for once in my two-year long life, I was one step closer to unravel the mysteries hidden behind the façade called magic. And then I got hit headfirst towards a wall.

As there was nothing I could really do, I just waited. I was something of an expert in such regard, if I say so.

In midst of my parents’ conversation, I discovered my father had some kind of shop. I couldn’t tell what type of shop as, once again, my vocabulary was lacking. But my guess and the context of the conversation, say that is magic-related. Yeah, I couldn’t have guessed that otherwise, incredibly useful and meaningful information I couldn’t have gotten elsewhere.

… It was sad that sarcasm was my only companion.

Be as it may, I found myself once again in the endless boredom which was childhood. Manaflow practice gave me an objective. Without it I was empty anew. Not really, but I’m still annoyed by it.

Whilst I ate in the kitchen/living room with my mother, I found a book littered on the cushion sofa. What did this world have with pillows? Mother explained it was father’s, as she fed me more porridge. They may say whatever they say. That porridge tasted like glory.

So, as a seeker of knowledge, I asked my mother if she could read it to me.

“Fir’ne sal’am tir ca’nor, Edrie.” I think it’s a bit difficult for you, Edrie. Mother, more or less, said. Her face expressing great doubt.

I pushed her to grab the book anyway. Perks of being a baby, you always get what you want. Mother lifted me in her arms with a defeated sigh and sat me in her thighs, putting me in between her belly and the book.

“Er na, Edrie?” Ready? She asked. Short tidbits of information, especially expressions, were getting easier to understand day by day.

I nodded.

Then I noticed every word escaped my comprehension. Well, not every word, that was exaggeration from my part. But I was capable of understanding very few words. It seems that ellari language had a more complex orthography than I thought.

Child writing was easy-looking and big, while adult’s writing was composed of symbols of minor size and augmented complexity. And I don’t mean children books used a bigger font, but the characters were all different, like if they used a totally different writing system altogether.

Imagine complicating your language so children have to forget whatever they learnt from when they were young. Damn it. It frustrated me that I could read anything at all. I felt like I had taken another step back.

At least I caught some words here and there as mother read aloud.

“Edrie.” I snapped at her calling. “Fir’te dal sin sor?”

No, mother. I am afraid I don’t understand what you are telling me. Maybe some words and perhaps phrases, but the whole context is beyond me. I shook my head in negation.

“Sen to’ra.” I see, she replied. Mother left the book in one of the cushions and turned me around so I was facing her. “Fir’te la mit, Edrie?”

Do you want to go out, Edrie? She asked. Amusing how so little words can make a long phrase in other languages. Mother also pronounced it fast enough that the phrase sounded like a single word, even if I knew that wasn’t the case thanks to my limited understanding of ellari linguistics. I was bored in home, so I had no reason to decline her proposal.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Ahh’eh da.” Alright, or a word akin to that, I told her.

Mother guided me to her room where she undressed me and put on me one of my onesies. Then she undressed herself. This was unnaturally disturbing of a situation. For her, she was nude in front of her baby. For me, I was a being of unknown age next to a young adult. I let those thoughts pass through my head as she swiftly put on her typical blouse and long skirt combo. My saving grace was that she didn’t fully unclothe.

Thank goodness for that. My mother wasn’t ugly, far from that, she was incredibly beautiful (and I’m not saying it just because I’m her son). And looking at her made it far more disturbing.

“Sen’ni?” Let’s go? Mother said as she accompanied me while holding my hand to the streets.

After two years in my new life, I finally had a stable grasp on walking once again. A form of movement so primal, yet it felt like ages since I walked properly for the last time. It was a surprisingly complex endeavor. Not to learn, but to instruct the body to do. Not only I had to have good enough foot-to-eye coordination, but also developed muscles to do so.

I think at this age, mothers would put their child on carriers. Not because their sons and daughters couldn’t walk, if not for their stamina. As I demonstrated before, babies tend to get tired rather easily. I trusted my mother could carry me herself if that happened. Which was a certainty rather than a hypothetical case.

Our stroll was a long one, longer than half an hour. Perhaps that was affected by my nefarious pace and probably was a shorter walk. Running was definitely out of the question for me, and jogging, while not impossible, was difficult and taxing enough that I didn’t want to do it. In short, I walked at a snail’s pace.

Then we arrived at our destiny. A park. Every child’s favorite place.

I didn’t see any playgrounds or structures that a child could be entertained with, but that mattered little to me. I was captivated by the park’s beauty.

The main avenue had an ellari beauty. Crafted. A combination of glass-tainted panels, parterre of myriads of flora, creeping colorful vines, and exquisite tapestry. Without forgetting the gorgeous ellari architecture, which centered in curves and being pleasant looking in general. It exuded the essence of ellari, the sensation of vanity.

This park couldn’t compare to the avenue’s meticulously crafted beauty, but it still was as captivating. Ashen trunk trees filled the place, like the ones I have seen in the streets before. The main difference between these ones and the ones at the streets, was that while in the street were only present pink-ridden canopies, here in the park the leaves flowered with more colors.

Pink, blue, purple, violet, lavender… It was an exquisite palette of colors all glued to the same pale ashen foundation. I found myself attracted to a tree with violet petals, like my own skin.

I tugged my mother’s long skirt while pointing at the purple canopy.

“Feh’an, feh’an!” Purple, purple! I cried to mother, albeit with a mirror orthographical mistake. Fun fact, violet was called “fel’si” in ellari. The correlation was obvious. And as you can see, I did, in fact, learn the basic colors.

“Fir’sa da ne’li son far ka’del, Edrie?” Do you want to touch the leaves, Edrie? A bit scary she understood my message perfectly, to be honest. Maternal instinct was truly something else.

Mother grabbed me by the armpits and sat me on her shoulders, getting me higher up and closer to the canopy. It was easy to understand why children were always so excited to be on their parents’ shoulders. The height gave you an overwhelming feeling of power. Being ten times as tall as you normally were, is an intoxicating sensation.

She took a few steps forward, careful to not make me hit the tree as this one was particularly short. I extended my arms to touch one of the leaves.

I first did this because they were colored equally to my skin. Having them side by side looked like I was camouflaged. But then I noticed something wrong with its structure. Instead of having veins emerging root-like from the petiole at the center, I found spiral veins that traversed the leaf. Truly alien flora. And it also looks like I am a botanist or something. Damn you, omnipresent yet unknown knowledge!

The spiral veins were very resemblant to the tree’s trunks. An ashen spring took the place where a wooden pillar should be. Why do I think tree trunks are supposed to be straight in the first place? I sighed as I foresaw the looming headache.

Once my obsession with leaf ended, I found myself distracted by another thing. Mother. I was trapped between her obscenely long ears and her long pearl-white silky hair. It struck me as a scholar oddity that I was far more attracted to her ears rather than her bosom or thighs. Ellari genetics were far different from whatever my previous incarnation was. I couldn’t resist, I wasn’t strong enough.

I touched her ears. They twitched. I felt a bolt of electricity traversing my body. They were cold, yet warm. It was a nice feeling

Mother yelped in a cute manner. “Edrie! Fir’al man te’del!” Edrie, they are… I don’t know the word. But I will guess ‘sensitive’ from the context.

That didn’t stop me from grabbing them. These unnaturally long ears felt so good to touch. I could do this all day long and never get bored. Actually, why don’t I do that?

“Edrie!” She shouted in annoyance.

Mother looked like she was getting angry. So, I stopped, like the gentleman I was. I wasn’t satisfied, though. I think I could never be. She got me off her shoulder as I pouted.

Her expression was stern, something I had grown to expect more out of father than mother, yet she didn’t really look that angry. It was kinda cute how she behaved, though. Maybe I should behave more like a child from time to time just to see such reactions.

I wasn’t over with this tree yet, though. I pointed towards the canopy of the tree, more specifically towards the highest point of the trunk. Or what it looks to me, the beginning of the slide.

My intent was obvious, but mother looked at me with a hint of severity. It was because she was worried I may injure myself or…

She interrupted my thoughts. “Fir’ne ca’ser ani, Edrie. Ca’ser ani.” Yup, definitively pissed. Shouldn’t have groped her ears like that. My fault. Mea culpa.

Again? I grabbed my head as an impromptu headache struck me. For mom, it may look I was overreacting to her “punishment”, but I was more focused on the severe pain in my brain. This will never get old, will it?

Patience had a limit, as mother grabbed my hand and we started walking away from the tree. Today I may have lost the battle, but mark my words wooden spring chimera, I will find you, and I will slide off of you. One day.