The walk back home is as tense as a sandman on a paper boat cruise. Still, I try to keep my face neutral, walking silently between Uncle Valerius and Pietro. My mind is still buzzing from the revelation—my [Chronos] ability isn't invincible. How did he move? How did he reach me while time was still paused?
The General seems to sense my confusion. Taking advantage of Pietro lagging behind, his nose buried in his notebook—probably jotting down every detail of my failed [Chronos] attempt—my uncle lowers his voice, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial.
"You seem surprised, nephew," he says, eyes scanning the path ahead instead of looking at me. "That I was able to move within your… peculiar temporal ability."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"There are things your mother, in her eagerness to protect you, has chosen not to tell you," he continues. "Truths about our world. About our bloodline." He clasps his hands behind his back, the way he does when addressing troops. "You're five years old now, and you've shown remarkable maturity. So I believe it's time you understand a little more about the space you inhabit."
He stops under the shade of a sprawling jacaranda tree, glancing back to ensure Pietro is still out of earshot. "Lexo, our world isn't just ruled by kings and the Guild. Beneath it all, at its very foundation, lie the echoes of seven primordial deities." He pauses, gauging my reaction before continuing. "Each of the Seven Kingdoms is, in some way, tied to one of these deities. And in every generation, a 'Legacy' is born—someone who embodies or channels their power. Though…" he adds, almost to himself, "not all of them awaken. And not all are recognized."
I stare at him, absorbing every word. Deities. Legacies. This is bigger than elemental magic.
"Here, in Quintus," he continues, "our history is bound to the Fifth King. And, according to legend, to the god Spatium—the Weaver of Infinite Space. Our royal bloodline, the House of Vanyae, is said to descend from him. That's why many in our family manifest minor spatial abilities—small warps, defensive distortions, dimensional perception… Catalysts, but not true Legacies."
I let the information settle. "My grandfather… King Cedron?"
Valerius nods. "Your grandfather possesses the strongest spatial abilities our family has seen in centuries. He can bend distances, create dimensional shields… yet even he is not considered the Legacy of Spatium. That title has been vacant for millennia."
His gaze sharpens. "And then there's you, Lexo. Fate, in its whims, had you born in Quintus, with Vanyae blood running through your veins… yet you wield [Chronos], the power of Lost Time. That ability belongs to Septimus, the Seventh Kingdom, tied to the deity of the same name."
Time and Space. The connection hits me like a thunderclap.
"But here's the key, nephew," my uncle leans in slightly, his voice weighted with meaning. "You didn't just inherit [Chronos]. Spatium's blood runs through you as well. You have an innate—perhaps dormant—affinity for Space. And that combination? Time and Space together? That's what makes you unique. It's what allows you to move objects within your frozen time. You don't just stop time—you manipulate space inside of it."
Realization slams into me. That's why I could throw the rock. That's why he could move!
"Space and Time are intertwined," he explains, his tone absolute. "A powerful user of spatial magic can perceive temporal distortions. And, to some extent, resist or even counteract them. My own ability, though lesser than your grandfather's, was enough to break through your base-level [Chronos]."
"And the smell?" I ask, remembering Pietro's notes and Lila's offhanded comment.
He chuckles. "Ah, that. The 'smells' you mention are the world's way of warning about fundamental magics. Time carries a sweet, almost intoxicating scent. Space, on the other hand, is bitter—like sand scraping the inside of your throat. Nature always finds a way to balance itself, to detect what is otherwise undetectable."
I'm speechless. It all fits. My power. My lineage. My uncle's ability.
"[Chronos] belongs to Septimus," Valerius continues, as if piecing it together himself. "A mountainous, secluded kingdom known for its cities of violet crystal. They trade with the Guild, they use our currency, but they are incredibly private. Few outsiders have ever set foot within their borders. Their current king, Roble, was once a childhood friend of your grandfather Cedron. They respect each other, but their kingdoms—and their powers—are fundamentally opposed."
He glances at me, a calculating gleam in his eye. "Your existence, Lexo… a Vanyae-born wielder of [Chronos]... complicates things. Diplomatic lines. Succession rights. Established alliances."
Before my brain can fully process the weight of that statement, we round the last bend and see my mother standing at the edge of town. Relief washes over her face at the sight of me—only to tighten when she spots the golden knight beside me.
Before she can speak, Valerius shifts seamlessly into his charming, utterly insincere persona. "Sister! We were just enjoying a little walk. The boy needed to stretch his legs." He steps forward, kisses her cheek, then subtly winks at me over her shoulder. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep worrying so much."
She eyes him suspiciously, then me, then him again. She knows something happened. But she doesn't say anything—not in front of Pietro, who mumbles a quick goodbye and practically sprints home, likely eager to document everything in that ever-growing notebook of his.
As we walk back, I can feel Mom's gaze burning into the side of my face. Things just got a whole lot more complicated. I'm a fruit salad of bloodlines. A potential dual-Legacy. Grandson of a king. Wielder of a power that could tilt the balance of the world. And now, the General of the Realm is whispering state secrets to me behind my mother's back.
My five-year-old life just got a whole lot messier.