Next morning.
Mike woke up with a strange heaviness in his chest. The sun had barely risen, casting a dull orange glow through the window. The book still sat open on his desk, its pages calm now, as if nothing had happened. But everything had.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples.
The dream. Althea. The power.
It hadn't been a fantasy. The lace panties still rested beside the book, a silent reminder of what he'd done—what he'd learned.
He moved to the window and looked down.
Althea was already in the garden, trimming the hedges like always, as if nothing had changed. But Mike knew better. Something had changed. Inside her. Inside him.
The book called to him again, humming softly under his fingers as he touched it.
The glowing text danced on the page like fireflies in the dark. As Mike leaned in, the book's next lesson unfolded—one word at a time.
"Emotion binds reality to illusion. Let go of fear, and you will see the threads of the mind."
Beneath it, a new spell appeared.
Mindweaving – Level I
"Inject thoughts, shift feelings, plant desire. Touch is not required. Target must be within twenty meters."
His mind reeled with the possibilities. This wasn't just power—it was access. Influence. Control.
He looked back out the window at Althea.
She stood in the sun, wiping sweat from her brow. Her white blouse clung slightly to her skin, the faint curve of her back visible through the fabric as she bent to cut a branch.
Mike stepped back from the window.
His heart beat faster—but it wasn't fear anymore. It was anticipation.
He reached for his hoodie, slipped it on, tucked the book under his arm, and walked downstairs.
The scent of morning toast and coffee filled the kitchen, but he ignored it.
He headed straight for the garden door.
Althea was humming softly as he stepped out.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps. Her smile was automatic—warm, polite. But there was a flicker in her eyes. Confusion, maybe. Or something she couldn't name.
"Morning, Mike," she said gently, brushing her hair back. "You're up early."
Mike nodded, stepping closer.
"Couldn't sleep," he said. "Weird dreams."
Her smile faltered just a little.
"Oh?" she asked, standing upright now. "Me too, actually."
He held her gaze.
"Yeah?" he said. "Did they feel… real?"
She hesitated. A pause. Then she laughed it off, shaking her head.
"I guess I've been tired. Maybe it's the summer heat."
Mike smiled faintly.
He took another step toward her. Close enough now.
He could feel it—the spell activating. The book vibrated faintly in his hoodie pocket. The air between them buzzed.
He focused.
Inject thought.
Shift emotion.
His eyes never left hers.
A slow, warm pulse moved outward from his chest like a silent ripple. Althea blinked once. Then again. Her shoulders softened. Her lips parted just slightly, like she forgot what she was about to say.
"Althea…" Mike said softly. "You're always so kind to everyone. So loyal. You take care of this place like it's your home."
She blinked again.
"I—I try…"
"You don't need to try," he said. "You already belong here."
Something in her face twitched—like part of her agreed and didn't know why. Her breath came slower.
"You're… sweet," she said, confused at her own words. "Mike… I don't know what's gotten into me lately."
"Maybe," he said, stepping even closer, "you're finally seeing things clearly."
The spell eased down. Faded gently. Mike stopped pushing.
He didn't need to take more today.
Just enough to know it worked.
Althea turned her face slightly away, cheeks flushed. She muttered something about needing to check the kitchen and walked past him—slower than usual.
But not before glancing back once.
Just once.
And that was enough.
Mike stood still for a moment. The power still pulsed inside him. He looked down at the ground.
Then smiled.
"Let's see who else I can reach…"
---
Mike stepped back into the house, the front door closing with a gentle click behind him.
The house felt different now.
Or maybe he did.
He walked to the kitchen slowly. The morning light poured in through the tall windows. He heard Althea's movements—soft footsteps, a cupboard opening, the sound of a kettle being placed on the stove.
He stood just out of her view, watching.
She wasn't humming anymore.
Her posture was different. She paused more often. Like her thoughts were interrupted. Like she was distracted… by something.
By him.
He turned and headed up the stairs.
He needed to test this further.
Later that day…
Leon had gone out for his late-morning jog.
The house was quiet. Still. Except for the gentle ticking of the hallway clock and the soft rustling of curtains in the breeze.
Selene sat in the private lounge upstairs, dressed in a loose black satin robe, flipping through a magazine she hadn't really been reading. Her mind was elsewhere—on Leon, on the strange tension in the house lately, and… on Mike.
He had been acting differently.
No more baby talk. No random tantrums. No toys scattered on the floor.
Just silence.
And those eyes.
The way he looked at her lately—it was nothing like a child's gaze.
She flinched when she heard the creak of the lounge door.
"Mommy?"
Mike stood in the doorway, still in his oversized hoodie and socks, his eyes wide and… too calm. Too focused.
Selene smiled faintly, but something in her spine tingled.
"Yes, sweetheart?" she said, keeping her voice light.
Mike walked in slowly. Each step soft. Too controlled. Too deliberate for a four-year-old.
"You look lonely," he said.
Selene blinked. "What?"
He stared at her, head tilted slightly, like he was studying her—not the way a child watches their mother, but like something else… older.
"Do you miss when you were happy?" he asked, his voice soft. Oddly measured.
Selene's hand gripped the arm of the chair.
"Mike," she said gently, "why are you asking that?"
He stepped closer.
"Because I see you when you cry. When Dad yells. When you hide in the bathroom. I hear it all."
She felt her breath catch.
Mike stopped in front of her. His head barely reached her knees.
"You used to smile more," he added. "But now you don't."
His words were so clear. So intentional. Like someone was speaking through him.
Selene reached out slowly, kneeling to his level. "Mike… you're just a little boy. How do you know all this?"
Mike leaned in.
And whispered.
"I read it in the book."
Selene's blood ran cold.
"What book?" she asked slowly.
[Next Chapter After 20 Powerstone]