"Again," Uncle Marcus commanded, his arms crossed as he observed Adrian's third attempt at maintaining a sustained flame.
Adrian gritted his teeth, focusing on the small fire hovering above his palm. The key was consistency, not just creating the flame, but keeping it stable. Uncle Marcus had been drilling this for weeks now.
"Feel the flow," Marcus instructed. "Magic isn't about forcing. It's about channeling. You're a conduit, not a source."
The flame flickered, wavered, then steadied. Adrian held it for ten seconds, twenty, thirty—
It sputtered out.
"Better," Marcus acknowledged. "Last week you could barely hold it for five seconds. You're progressing through the foundational stages faster than expected."
Adrian was five years old now, and his training had become increasingly structured over the past year. Uncle Marcus, it turned out, wasn't just a military mage. He was a graduated master from the Celestine Academy of Arcane Studies, one of the most prestigious magical institutions in the kingdom.
"The academy has a systematic approach to magical education," Marcus had explained when he'd first begun Adrian's formal training. "Five foundational pillars that every mage must master before advancing to specialized study."
Those five pillars had become Adrian's world:
First Pillar: Energy Perception and Manipulation
Learning to sense the ambient magical energy in the environment. Drawing it in, holding it, releasing it in controlled bursts. This was where Adrian currently focused most of his effort.
"You're naturally talented at perception," Marcus noted, making notes in a leather-bound journal where he tracked Adrian's progress. "Your creative mind helps you visualize the energy flows. But manipulation requires discipline. You want to skip to the interesting parts."
"Because the interesting parts are interesting," Adrian muttered.
"And the boring parts are foundational. Can't build a castle without a foundation." Marcus tapped the journal. "Try again. This time, focus on maintaining consistent output. Imagine the flame as a stream, not a burst."
Adrian tried again. And again. And again.
Second Pillar: Physical Conditioning
"Magic taxes the body," Marcus had explained on their first day. "An untrained body cannot channel large amounts of energy without injury. We start building your stamina now."
This meant daily exercises—running, climbing, balance work. Adrian had protested initially, but Marcus was unmoved.
"The academy requires all first-year students to pass rigorous physical examinations. Those who can't handle the strain wash out in the first semester. We're preparing you properly."
So Adrian ran laps around the estate each morning. Practiced balance on increasingly narrow beams. Built the muscle memory that would let his body handle magical strain.
Third Pillar: Theoretical Foundations
Despite his creative approach to magic, Marcus insisted on rigorous theoretical study.
"You need to understand the why behind the how," he'd said, presenting Adrian with a stack of dense textbooks. "The academy has a comprehensive curriculum covering magical theory, energy dynamics, historical applications, and ethical considerations."
Adrian devoured the books with the same hunger he'd once applied to his doctoral research. Finally, academic material that challenged him! The texts covered everything from basic energy theory to complex theorems about dimensional resonance.
"Most students don't engage with this material until they're ten or eleven," Marcus observed, watching Adrian work through an advanced text on elemental affinities. "You're... unusual."
"I like understanding systems," Adrian said, which was true even if it wasn't the full truth. His adult mind craved intellectual stimulation, and magical theory provided exactly that.
Fourth Pillar: Practical Application
"Theory without practice is useless," Marcus declared. "The academy emphasizes hands-on work from day one."
This was Adrian's favorite part. Under careful supervision, he practiced basic spells: light conjuration, small levitations, temperature manipulation. Each spell required precise energy control, proper mental visualization, and physical stamina.
"The academy teaching progression is carefully designed," Marcus explained. "Each spell builds on previous skills. Master these fundamentals, and complex magic becomes possible. Skip steps, and you'll hit walls you can't overcome."
Adrian threw himself into practice with enthusiasm, though he chafed at the slow, methodical progression.
Fifth Pillar: Mental Discipline
"Magic responds to will," Marcus said. "Unfocused will creates unstable magic. The academy requires all students to develop mental discipline through meditation and focus exercises."
This was, ironically, Adrian's weakest area. His creative mind resisted the structure of formal meditation. His thoughts scattered in multiple directions.
"You'll need to work on this," Marcus warned. "The academy entrance examination includes a mental focus assessment. They won't accept students who can't maintain concentration under pressure."
***
After six months of intensive training, Marcus made his proposal.
"You're ready to begin preparing for the academy entrance examination," he said one evening, reviewing Adrian's progress journal. "Earliest admission is age ten, which gives us five years. Most children study for two or three years before attempting the exam. With your aptitude and my instruction, I believe you could be ready in four."
"The academy?" Adrian's heart raced. A formal magical institution. Advanced study. Peers who might actually challenge him intellectually.
"The Celestine Academy," Marcus confirmed. "Where I trained. They accept fifty students per year from across the kingdom. The examination is... demanding. Theory, practical demonstration, physical assessment, mental discipline, and personal interview."
He pulled out a thick document. The academy's entrance requirements.
"The exam covers all five pillars comprehensively. Theoretical knowledge equivalent to three years of private study. Practical demonstration of at least fifteen basic spells with ninety percent accuracy. Physical endurance sufficient to channel magic for extended periods. Mental focus capable of maintaining concentration through disruptions. And an interview assessing character, motivation, and potential."
Adrian stared at the document, mind racing. Five years to prepare. Systematic study across all five pillars. A clear goal to work toward.
"I want to do it," he said. "I want to try for the academy."
Marcus smiled. "I thought you might. Then let's begin properly. No more casual lessons. From now on, we follow the academy preparatory curriculum exactly. It will be demanding. Rigorous. Are you certain?"
Adrian thought of his previous life. The endless competition with no clear purpose. The pushing and striving that had led nowhere but burnout.
This was different. This was learning for its own sake. Mastering something meaningful.
"I'm certain," he said.
Marcus nodded, satisfied. "Then tomorrow, we begin your formal academy preparation. Welcome to the real work, nephew."
***
The boat rocked gently as Evander guided it away from the dock, one hand on the oar, the other pointing toward the water's surface.
"See those floating plants?" he said in his characteristically quiet voice. "Those are lake lilies. They're different from regular lilies because their roots don't anchor to the bottom. They float free."
Margotte leaned over carefully to look, her eyes bright with curiosity. The white flowers were beautiful, delicate petals opened to the afternoon sun.
"Pretty," she said.
"Also useful," Evander added, rowing smoothly. "The leaves can be used for healing tea. Mama uses them when Lysander gets sick from eating things he shouldn't."
From the other boat significantly farther away, came a loud splash and Lysander's triumphant shout.
"I'M A SEA MONSTER! FEAR ME, TINY FISH!"
Lady Helena, supervising from her position in Lysander's boat, sighed deeply. "Lysander, please stay inside the boat!"
"But I'm hunting!"
"You can hunt from inside the boat!"
"That's not how real sea monsters do it!"
Evander and Margotte exchanged glances.
"That's why he has his own boat," Evander explained unnecessarily. "Last time we shared, he capsized us trying to catch a frog."
"Remember," Margotte giggled. The memory was vivid—all three of them soaked, Lysander proudly holding a very confused frog, Lady Helena's expression of pure exhaustion.
"Anyway," Evander continued, clearly trying to maintain his lesson despite his brother's chaos, "over there, those are water irises. The purple ones? They only bloom in late spring. The color comes from minerals in the water."
He rowed closer so Margotte could see better. She was five now, old enough to appreciate the careful way Evander explained things. He never talked down to her, never simplified unnecessarily. Just presented information clearly and let her absorb it.
It was so different from Adrian's teaching style—all chaotic energy and creative leaps. Evander was methodical, peaceful, gentle.
"And those small white flowers floating in clusters? Those are starweeds. Fishermen don't like them because they tangle in nets, but they're important for baby fish. The little fish hide in the roots where bigger fish can't reach."
Margotte watched Evander as he talked, noting details she'd been noticing more lately. The way afternoon light caught in his dark curly hair. How his brown eyes focused intently when he explained something he cared about. The small, pleased smile when she asked good questions.
He was eight years old now, but somehow seemed older. Mature. Thoughtful.
Also... handsome?
The thought struck her suddenly, and Margotte felt her face heat up.
That's weird, she thought. I'm five. He's eight. This is weird.
But she couldn't quite shake the observation. There was something about the serious way he tilted his head, the competence in how he managed the boat, the confidence in his knowledge—
Evander turned to point at something else and caught her staring.
Margotte flinched, jerking her gaze away. Her heart hammered. Had he noticed? Did he think she was weird?
"Um," she said quickly, desperately searching for something to say. Her eyes landed on a large tree at the lake's edge. "That! That tree! What... what about that one?"
Evander followed her gaze, and Margotte saw the corner of his mouth twitch. Like he was trying not to smile.
He'd noticed.
Oh no.
But when he spoke, his voice was as calm and instructional as ever. "That's an old willow tree. Probably seventy or eighty years old based on the trunk size."
He rowed them closer, either not seeing or kindly pretending not to see the blush spreading across Margotte's cheeks.
"Willow trees love water," he continued, gesturing at the drooping branches that trailed into the lake. "Their roots go deep, looking for moisture. That's why you find them near lakes and rivers. The branches bend instead of breaking in storms... that's why they're called 'weeping' willows. They look sad, but they're actually very strong."
Margotte forced herself to focus on his words, on the tree, on anything except how embarrassed she felt.
"The wood is flexible," Evander went on, his teaching tone never wavering. "People use it for baskets and furniture. And birds love nesting in them because the drooping branches hide their nests from predators."
He paused, then added more quietly, "It's my favorite tree on this lake. I come here sometimes just to sit under it and think."
"It's nice," Margotte managed, her voice slightly squeaky.
"Yeah." Evander's small smile was gentle, understanding. "It is."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the boat drifting lazily. From across the water, Lysander's ongoing commentary about sea monster tactics provided constant background noise.
"Margotte?" Evander said finally.
"Yes?"
"You don't have to be embarrassed. About... about looking. Or thinking things. That's normal."
Margotte's face went even redder. "I wasn't—I didn't—"
"It's okay." Evander picked up the oar again, starting to row them in a gentle circle around the willow. "Everyone notices things about people sometimes. It doesn't have to mean anything special. Just... noticing."
The careful, diplomatic way he said it made Margotte both grateful and mortified. He was being kind. Not teasing like Adrian would have. Not making it weird. Just... acknowledging and moving on.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For... for being nice. About everything."
Evander's smile grew a bit. "That's what friends do. We're friends, right?"
"Right. Friends."
"Good."
He pointed to another cluster of flowers, seamlessly returning to his lesson about lake vegetation, and Margotte felt herself relax. This was why she liked spending time with Evander.
Just peaceful companionship and interesting information about plants.
Even if she had maybe noticed that he was objectively handsome for an eight-year-old.
Even if her heart did something funny when he smiled at her.
That was fine. That was just... noticing. Like he said.
Nothing weird about it.
I'm five years old mentally noticing an eight-year-old's attractiveness while actually being twenty-seven, she thought. This is the most absurd thing about reincarnation.
But Evander was explaining something about algae bloom patterns now, and his enthusiasm for the subject was genuinely engaging, so Margotte pushed the absurdity aside and just listened.
This life wasn't about making sense.
It was about living.
Even the weird, complicated, slightly embarrassing parts.
"—and that's why the water looks greener in summer," Evander finished. "Does that make sense?"
"Yes," Margotte said, and realized she'd actually absorbed the information despite her internal crisis. "You're a really good teacher."
Evander's ears went slightly pink. "Oh. Thank you. I just... I like knowing things. And sharing them. With people who actually listen."
"I like listening. To you. Specifically."
Now both of them were blushing, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Lysander's distant shriek of "I CAUGHT SOMETHING! IT'S HUGE! IT'S—wait, that's just a stick. FALSE ALARM!" broke the tension.
They both laughed, and the moment passed into something easier.
The afternoon drifted on peacefully. Evander teaching, Margotte learning, both of them comfortable in the quiet way that felt natural to them both.
Across the lake, Lysander continued his chaotic sea monster impression.
And somewhere in the distance, on the Valemont estate, Adrian was probably making flames dance or learning complex magical theory or generally being brilliant and competitive.
But here, on this gentle boat ride, Margotte was content.
She had her peaceful moments with Evander and her chaotic weekends with Adrian. Had quiet learning and intense competition. Had different kinds of friendship that fulfilled different needs.
It was balanced, she realized. Healthy, even.
This life was turning out pretty well.