As I scribbled in my notebook, Jade’s body leaned comfortably against mine. She peered over my shoulder, her curiosity radiating off her in waves but surprisingly restrained—for now.


    Her warmth was grounding, like a cozy blanket, though I couldn’t ignore the subtle distraction she brought. Every now and then, I’d feel her shift or fidget, her fingers brushing against my arm. For a while, she behaved herself, simply watching me. But of course, this was Jade. Her patience had the shelf life of a carton of milk left out in the sun. Before long, her “restraint” turned into little attempts to gnaw at my arm or shoulder—or even my cheek—like a mischievous cat trying to assert its dominance. I’d shoo her away, but the smug little grin she wore told me she wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions.


    I should’ve known better. Jade’s tolerance for being ignored had its limits.


    Eventually, she reached out with both hands and gently nudged the notebook, trying to push it out of my grasp. When that didn’t work, she went straight for the nuclear option. With a dramatic sigh, she closed the notebook with a definitive thump and turned to me.


    “Let’s go home,” she said simply, like she’d just solved all my problems.


    I blinked, staring at her with a mix of disbelief. “You can’t just— That’s illegal.”


    “Oh, but I can,” she interrupted, her smirk daring me to challenge her authority.


    I blinked at her sudden mood change. “Stop messing around when I''m working,” lightly pushing her face away like she was a pesky cat. “There’s just a little left to finish. Give me five minutes, and then we’ll go.”


    She tilted her head, clearly unimpressed. “You said that five minutes ago. And ten minutes before that.”


    I sighed, reaching to reopen the notebook, but she stopped me with a hand on my wrist. “Fine. But if you take longer than five minutes, I’m holding your notebook hostage.”


    “Noted.”


    Then she huffed, flopping back into her seat with the air of someone who had been gravely wronged.  Propping her chin in her hands, she stared at me with exaggerated boredom, making no effort to hide her annoyance. But ten minutes later, Jade broke the silence with a groan.


    “So, are we investigating the tunnels today?” she asked, her voice filled with barely concealed impatience.


    I paused, glancing up from my notes to meet her gaze. “Depends on how much time we have left at the end of the day,” I replied evenly, returning to my work.


    Her groan grew louder, and she slouched further into her chair, muttering something about “workaholics” under her breath. I ignored her theatrics and returned to my work.


    After thirty minutes, I finally closed the notebook with a sigh of relief. It had taken me two painstaking hours to sketch out just thirteen runes from memory—thirteen out of the thousands I’d glimpsed. The runic symbols were far too complex for me to recall perfectly, and even these thirteen had taken significant effort. My brain felt like mush, but at least I’d made some progress. Experimenting with these spells would require patience, focus, and, frankly, a miracle.


    I paused, thinking about my second cycle knowledge. Perhaps it was time to put some of that to use—it might help me move forward more efficiently.


    That’s when I noticed Jade. I had stretched my promise of five minutes into fifteen.


    She had shifted to the edge of the sofa, sitting with her back to me, perfectly quiet. Too quiet. Was the dragon angry? I chuckled softly at the thought. Jade’s moods were as mercurial as her mischief, but an angry dragon wasn’t something I wanted to provoke further. I decided to approach carefully. Sliding closer without making a sound, I caught sight of something new: her nails, painted a delicate shade of blue. It was subtle but striking, and I realized I hadn’t noticed earlier. Curious and emboldened, I reached out and gently took her hand. She didn’t pull away, but her silence was as cold as her deliberately blank expression.


    The dragon was digging in, determined to punish me with stubbornness.


    Yup, definitely angry.


    The dragon, it seemed, wasn’t just arrogant—it was infuriatingly stubborn when it wanted to be.


    I held back a laugh and leaned in, planting a feather-light kiss on her cheek. It was a page straight out of her own playbook—the “Kiss attack” technique she’d perfected to catch me off guard and kill me with affection. Though her hand trembled ever so slightly, but she stayed stoic, her sulken face as solid as stone. I could practically hear her inner monologue screaming:


    Don’t give in! Don’t you dare let him win!


    Alright, I thought. I kissed her nose next, soft and teasing, my lips brushing against her skin just long enough to make her twitch.


    Still nothing.


    The dragon was putting up a fight. But, if the arrogant dragon won’t yield, it’s time for the ultimate weapon.


    Smirking, I decided to bring out the heavy artillery. I cupped her face with both hands, holding her still as I launched a barrage of rapid, relentless kisses all over her cheeks, her forehead, her temples—wherever I could reach. The aggressive onslaught was playful and shameless, entirely designed to break her stubborn defenses.


    That did it.


    Her cold mask shattered like glass as she burst into giggles, her laughter high-pitched and uncontrollable. “Stop! Hehehe, stop! I can’t breathe!” she squealed, her hands flailing in a half-hearted attempt to push me away.


    But I wasn’t done, “You asked for this.”


    “Okay, okay! I surrender!” she cried between giggles, finally squirming free of my grip. She flopped back onto the sofa, her cheeks flushed and her silver eyes shimmering with happiness.


    “Next time, maybe try communicating instead of sulking,” I teased, ruffling her hair.


    “Next time, maybe finish your work faster,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at me.


    Ah, the dragon was back in full form. Peace restored.


    This was my life. I held Jade close, resigned to the fact that these "attacks" came two or three times a day. The arrogant dragon, as shameless as ever, was always quick to surrender when faced with relentless affection, laughing in defeat. Seriously, what kind of dragon gives up so easily? It was almost embarrassing—an insult to the entire dragon species. But, admittedly, I was happy with her antics.


    But the moment I let her go, though, Jade turned on me, taking advantage of my relaxed guard. With a gleeful grin, she lunged at me with a grin, ready to return the favor in full force. And before I could react, her arms wrapped around me in a flash, and I felt her lips attack my cheek in a relentless flurry of kisses.


    “Payback time!” she declared, her silvery eyes sparkling with mischief.


    I groaned, half-laughing, half-suffocating, as she peppered kisses along my jaw, my temple, and even—ugh—my ear. I squirmed and tried to wiggle free, but her grip was ironclad. Where do people like this even come from? I wondered, exasperated. Is there some secret academy for chaos-makers with a curriculum on weaponized affection?


    Then, our playful bubble was rudely popped by an unexpected voice.


    “Ugh,” muttered someone nearby, loud enough for the half lounge to hear, dripping with exaggerated disapproval. “In every fucking corner, there’s someone with their tongue inside each other’s mouths.”


    We both froze, turning to see a group of two boys and three girls, roughly our age, walking past.


    "Seriously, get a room. Or better yet, a muzzle.”


    “Yeah, it’s like public spaces don’t exist anymore. Do people think this is a rom-com?”


    One of the girls shook his head dramatically, clearly unimpressed with our PDA. I frowned, confused and irritated. What was their problem? We weren’t breaking any laws, and last I checked, we weren’t living in some dystopia where a kiss in public was punishable by stoning.


    As I wasted precious seconds debating whether or not to engage, Jade was already two steps ahead of me—as usual.


    She dove into her bag with a fire in her eyes, pulling out something that made my blood run cold. A blaster. An actual freaking blaster!


    “Seriously?” I hissed, panicking as she raised it slightly, her expression livid. “Jade, put that down!”


    “How dare they!” she fumed, her voice shaking with rage. “Do they think they own the place? Let me at ‘em!”


    I leapt into action, wrapping both arms around her and yanking her back down onto the sofa before she could do anything stupid—or, worse, illegal.


    Why did she even have a blaster with her in the academy? How was it even possible to sneak it in successfully? I wondered frantically. Was she not worried about getting caught and facing serious consequences?


    I snatched the blaster from Jade’s hand and hid it behind me, my heart pounding. “Calm down!” I hissed under my breath, my eyes darting to see if anyone nearby had noticed. “They’re just ignorant kids.”


    Jade’s head snapped toward me, “Why don’t you say anything to them? They''re annoying.” she demanded.


    “Because they’re not worth it,” I replied, trying to keep my tone calm while clutching the blaster tightly behind me. “You can’t just go blasting people for being annoying.”


    I tightened my hold on her as the group glanced back, noticing the commotion. They sneered, their expressions dripping with disgust, before continuing on their way, completely oblivious to how close they’d come to actual danger.


    I shook my head, These rich kids are really looking death right in the eyes and laughing. Must be nice to have zero survival instincts. I thought, exasperated.


    Jade huffed beside me, and I could feel the storm brewing. Her meta nature bled into reality like a broken dam, making the air around us ripple with bad luck. The Likeness of the place was rapidly shifting, turning orange: unpredictable chaos.


    The Meta Aspect Reading Alarms in the hallway and lounge immediately roared to life, blaring like fire alarms in an inferno. Their purpose wasn’t to detect flames but to read the changes in the very basic fabric of reality and notify authority and people if someone was using their meta to cause huge amounts of reality altering changes in the localized space.


    They were practically everywhere.


    I braced myself for whatever storm was about to follow.


    Subsequently, the group suddenly froze mid-step.The boy who had made the snide comment froze mid-step, his hand flying to his chest, his face contorted with pain. Another student, pale as a ghost, wobbled before vomiting blood. The rest didn’t fare any better—two collapsed unconscious, their bodies hitting the floor like ragdolls. The room fell into a stunned silence. A few nearby students gawked, unsure whether to stay or run. Others scrambled to call for teachers or medics, their voices panicked and shaky.


    A human body is a delicate machine. Billions of interdependent processes hum along seamlessly—until someone like Jade decides to throw a wrench into the works. It doesn’t take much to disrupt it: a subtle shift in blood pressure, an untraceable spike in adrenaline, or a tweak to cellular balance. That’s all it takes to turn a cocky fool into a gasping wreck. The boy had no idea how close he’d come to brushing against death itself.


    I grabbed Jade by the shoulders and made her look directly into my eyes. “Not here,” I said firmly


    My voice was resolute, leaving no room for argument. I was worried she might whisk away their souls before I or them could even blink. But, I seriously couldn’t understand why such a small comment had sparked such uncontrollable anger in her, but I knew this wasn’t the place to unleash it. The other students in the study lounge looked on, spooked and uncertain about what had just happened. Six students collapsing in quick succession wasn’t something anyone could easily overlook. A few students scrambled to call for teachers and medics. Meanwhile, I quickly dragged Jade to a more secluded corner. My mind raced, shocked at what had just occurred. I didn’t think we would escape unscathed from this incident. We would certainly be called in by the discipline committee and might even receive severe detention.


    The academy’s security measures were extensive: Meta Aspect Alarms, cameras, they even had unconventional means —possibly the ability to rewind time in the area to reconstruct the event.


    “Let’s get out of here first,” I said, grabbing Jade’s hand and pulling her along.


    As we hurried through the hallways, I kept a firm grip on her hand, leading her toward the nearest exit. Her usual defiant energy had been replaced by a simmering anger that radiated off her like heat waves. She stayed quiet, her jaw clenched, and her silvery eyes glinting with an unsettling light. I needed to diffuse her emotions before they spiraled further. Outside, the cool evening air hit us like a slap, but it did little to cool her mood. I pulled her to the side, out of view of passing students and staff. Her breathing was uneven, her fists balled at her sides. She wasn’t ready to talk, but I wasn’t about to let this go without addressing it.


    “Jade,” I said firmly, releasing her hand and stepping in front of her. “What the hell was that?”


    Her silvery eyes flashed as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "They deserved it.”


    I ran a hand down my face, exhaling slowly to keep from snapping. “Do you hear yourself? You pulled a blaster on a group of kids because they muttered some sarcastic comment. This is a school, not the Wild West.”


    “They mocked you,” she growled, her eyes narrowing. “Us. I won’t let anyone insult what we have. Not now, not ever.”


    I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. “So your solution,” I said, incredulous, “was to escalate the situation to Defcon One? We’re at the academy. They can probably review the incident frame by frame if they want.”


    “Maybe they should think twice before opening their mouths next time.” She scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. “Do you think I care? Let them figure it out. I’ll handle whatever comes.”


    I pressed my palm against the wall, trying to steady myself.


    In that moment, I seemed to grasp more about Jade’s nature. She operated on a wavelength entirely different from normal people.


    “Let’s go home,” I said softly, booking a cab.


    The ride home was silent, neither of us attempting to speak. I wanted to let Jade cool down and think without interference. She wasn’t the type to reflect and realize she’d made a mistake; she was the type to fiercely protect what she cared about, consequences be damned. Though I couldn’t decide whether I should feel grateful or unsettled. Once we reached home, our usual dynamic shifted. Instead of jumping on each other like hungry animals, as was typical for us, Jade quietly retreated to her plants. I watched as she picked up her watering can and tended to them with a precision that spoke volumes. It was her way of processing emotions, turning her anger into something constructive.


    I gave her the space she needed and busied myself in the kitchen. If words wouldn’t work, maybe something sweet could. Strawberries and cream were always a safe bet, and before long, I had a simple trifle bowl ready. The layers of bright fruit, soft sponge, and airy cream were almost too cheerful for the somber mood.


    When I returned, Jade was curled up on the sofa, scrolling through Hyperspace with a distracted expression. She barely noticed me sit beside her until I nudged her arm lightly. She blinked, startled, and slipped the chrome band off her head.


    Her gaze drifted to the trifle bowl in my hands, and I didn’t say a word.


    Instead, I scooped a spoonful and held it near her lips. Jade hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and took a large bite.


    Her expression softened instantly as the sweetness melted into her mouth. “It’s good,” she murmured, almost begrudgingly.


    I smiled, glad to see even the smallest crack in her armor. “There’s plenty,” I said, offering her another spoonful.


    This time, she took it without hesitation, her demeanor easing with each bite. The tension in her shoulders began to melt away, and I could see hints of the Jade I knew returning.


    After the third bite, she finally spoke, her voice quiet and hesitant. “Are you not angry with me?”


    I leaned back slightly, thinking for a moment. “Angry? No,” I replied honestly. “Concerned? Absolutely.”


    Her brows knit together, and she averted her gaze, staring into the half-empty trifle bowl. “I just… I couldn’t stand it. The way they looked at us, commented about us. Like they had a right to judge.”


    “I get it,” I said gently, setting the spoon down. “But next time, let me handle it. You don’t need to take everything on yourself. And… blasters aren’t exactly subtle.”


    A faint pout formed on her lips. “You’re seriously not mad anymore?”


    “Why would I be?” I chuckled, taking a small bite myself. The trifle had turned out really well; no wonder it managed to melt Jade’s anger. It felt worth the effort.


    She didn’t meet my eyes. “I thought you’d be mad,” she admitted, her tone unsure.


    I sighed, scooting a little closer to her on the sofa. I wasn’t sure if she realized the mistake she’d made or if she was just worried I’d be upset and stop caring about her. Either way, it didn’t matter much to me. There weren’t many things in the world I cared about deeply, and Jade was one of them—undoubtedly at the top of that short list.


    “There’s nothing about you that could make me mad,” I said firmly, placing the trifle aside. “So what if you gave some entitled brats a scare? They should be blaming their superhero parents for not teaching them better. They’ve grown up thinking their shiny, powerful meta natures and famous families make them untouchable. Honestly, they’re lucky I stopped you from blasting them into a pile of burnt regrets. If you want, we can always go back tomorrow and teach them round two.”


    The corner of Jade’s mouth twitched, and then, as if against her will, she burst into laughter.


    I leaned forward, cupping her cheeks gently in my hands. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “For not standing with you in that moment. For not understanding what you needed from me.”


    Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she turned her head, as if trying to hide her face from me. Her silver eyes glistened, and for a brief moment, I worried she might start crying. But then she spoke, her voice cracked and filled with emotion. “You don’t have to apologize. It was my mistake for lashing out in the first place. You were right—we shouldn’t care about a dog barking on the street.”


    There was a pause, and then, with a faint, almost sweet smile, she added, “Besides, we both can’t be hotheaded in a relationship. Someone has to keep the other grounded.”


    I grinned, brushing my thumb lightly against her cheek. “And here I thought you were the one keeping me grounded.”


    “Well, sometimes,” she leaned into my touch, her smile growing. “But you’ll have to take over when I’m busy plotting revenge.”


    “Did I ever tell you that I love you very much?” I asked softly, pulling Jade into a tight hug.


    Her arms slowly wrapped around my neck, her fingertips lightly grazing my skin. “No,” she whispered, “because I love you more.”


    I let out a relieved laugh, happy to see her old self returning.


    Our faces were inches apart. “We’re really arguing over this?” I whispered, my fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.


    Before she could respond, I leaned in, capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. Her body melted against mine, her hands moving up into my hair, tugging gently. Her lips parted slightly, inviting me deeper, and I didn’t hesitate. The kiss intensified, her soft sighs sending sparks down my spine. My hands traced the curve of her waist, pulling her even closer, until there was no space left between us.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Jade broke the kiss for a moment, her breath ragged, her eyes locking onto mine. “You can’t win this,” she whispered, her voice low and full of mischief.


    “Guess I’ll have to keep trying,” I replied, smiling, before diving back in, my lips finding hers again.


    <hr>


    Three hours later.


    As I tried to stand, “Are you going home already?” Jade asked quietly, tightening her arms around my chest.


    I paused, looking at her with mock indecision. “Should I, or should I not?”


    Her lips curved into a playful smile. “How about we flip a coin?”


    I raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help smiling back. “A coin flip for my fate? Seems risky.”


    Jade’s face lit up, and before I could say another word, she bounced out of bed with surprising energy. “You’re my most favorite person in the world!” she declared, her voice practically singing.


    I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “And you’re mine.”


    She rummaged through my jacket, pulling out my wallet with the practiced ease of someone far too familiar with it. “Here we go,” she said, fishing out a coin like she’d just uncovered buried treasure.


    “Let me do it,” I offered, extending a hand toward her.


    Jade’s expression turned mock-serious as she pulled the coin closer to her chest. “No. You’re not lucky enough for this.”


    “No powers,” I reminded her, trying to level the playing field.


    Her silver eyes sparkled mischievously as she flipped the coin high into the air. It spun, catching the faint light, and landed neatly in her palm. She peeked at it, then turned to me with a grin that practically screamed victory.


    “Heads or tails?” she asked, barely containing her laughter.


    “Tails,” I said, already sensing where this was going.


    Jade peeked at the coin again, then slowly revealed it with exaggerated drama. “It’s heads!” she announced triumphantly, her eyes dancing with delight.


    I sighed, shaking my head. “Sure, the coin definitely has your back. Even if it had been tails, you’d still say it was heads.”


    Jade grinned mischievously. “What can I say? The universe just knows who the main character is.”


    I gave her a deadpan look but couldn’t hold back my smile. Jade’s charm always managed to outmaneuver my frustration. She leaned closer, poking my cheek. “Don’t pout. It’s unbecoming of my favorite servant.”


    “Servant?” I gasped with mock indignation. “I’ll remember that the next time you’re begging me for a favor.”


    Jade laughed, her head tilting back like a villain.


    After our usual activities, I dragged her with me to the basement. It was time to assimilate the Splinter and Mindfield spells. Despite the risks, my deteriorating memories state left me little choice. I was walking a razor''s edge - on one side, the terror of others accessing my timeline memories, on the other, the growing risk of delusion and madness as those memories continued to bleed together.


    “Camera’s ready,” Jade announced, giving me a thumbs-up as she approached. She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on my lips that seemed to say, You’re not doing this alone. Then she stepped back to the corner of the room.


    I appreciated her presence but was insistent on her staying as far away as possible in case something went wrong.


    “Don’t come closer if you see anything wrong with me or the process,” I warned, though I wasn’t sure I believed my own words. If the roles were reversed, I’d have done exactly what I was telling her not to.


    Jade crossed her arms, her expression stubborn. “You think I’m just going to run if something happens? You know better than that.”


    I sighed. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to get hurt.”


    She nodded reluctantly but didn’t move farther back.


    Taking a deep breath, I retrieved the cube containing the sealed spells. Sir Nash’s instructions echoed in my mind: Break the cube when you’re ready to assimilate the spell.


    The cube felt deceptively ordinary in my hand—smooth and cool, like polished glass. My fingers brushed its edges as I tested its resistance, feeling the faint hum of energy emanating from within. Slowly, I applied pressure to its corners, first gentle, then firm. The cube gave way with an almost imperceptible crack, fragile as an eggshell despite its solid appearance.


    The moment it broke, the air shifted.


    A ripple of energy pulsed outward, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. The spell emerged, uncoiling like liquid light, its surface shimmering with a kaleidoscope of infinity colors that bled into one another with hypnotic fluidity. It hovered before me, weightless and alive, as though it were examining me just as I was examining it.


    The holes dotting its structure expanded and contracted rhythmically, almost like breathing. The sight was mesmerizing, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe myself. Rapidly, the feeling of strangeness crept into my mind again.


    With no warning, the spell began to expand. Its fluid, glowing form grew rapidly, stretching outward until it enveloped me entirely. I was swallowed by its presence.


    In an instant, my consciousness severed from my physical form.


    Then the pain hit me like a tidal wave, sharp and all-encompassing, flooding every corner of my mind. I felt I was falling through the endless abyss and all my memories playing before my eyes for the one last time. My thoughts, once fluid and seamless, felt like they’d been thrown into a grinder, each one scraping painfully against the other. The world outside faded, replaced by an intense internal struggle as my mind tried to make sense of the strangeness now coursing through it. It was as though the spell was dismantling me, shattering the delicate threads that held my mental fabric together, only to reweave it in ways I didn’t understand.


    Then came the moment of fracture.


    Each memory began to splinter, twisting and contorting as though wrung through the hands of an unseen force.


    Then, with an audible, glass-like shatter, they broke apart. Every thought, every moment of my existence, fragmented into glittering shards. They floated in a surreal, infinite void, suspended like stars in a night sky. I recognized pieces of myself within them—a laughing child in the sunlight, my mother’s warm smile as she put a piece of cake in my mouth, the cold emptiness of my first heartbreak, and the shattering loneliness of nights spent wondering who I was meant to become.


    The beauty was undeniable, but so was the terror.


    The shards hung in a chaotic maze, twisting and turning in impossible patterns that defied logic. Some memories seemed close enough to touch, but when I reached for them, they slipped further into the void. Others hovered ominously, sharp-edged and threatening, as though they might cut me if I dared come closer. The deeper I looked, the more lost I became. It was disorienting—an infinite labyrinth of myself, my past, my very essence scattered into a fragile, glittering minefield. And that’s when I realized the truth.


    The shards weren’t just memories. They were traps.


    I tried to reach out, to piece them together, but my hand—or rather, my soul—was frozen. The glass didn’t follow the familiar rules of three-dimensional space; they hovered in loops, twists, and spirals that bent in ways I couldn’t fully perceive. Some pieces seemed close, but when I reached for them, they slipped impossibly farther away.


    The deeper I gazed, the more disoriented I became. It was an endless maze, each twist and turn revealing another fragment of my life, scattered and fractured. And then the minefield took shape.


    Some fragments shimmered with a warm, inviting glow—memories of love, joy, and triumph. But as I reached toward them, I saw the faint threads of energy coiled around their edges, razor-thin and deadly. They weren’t safe. Touching them would unleash an eruption of agony that could rip through my mind like wildfire. Others hummed with an ominous vibration, their jagged edges reflecting distorted images of pain and failure. Their energy was suffocating, toxic even from a distance.


    This wasn’t a sanctuary anymore—it was a battlefield. The spell wasn’t just protecting me; it was reshaping my mind into a labyrinth of defense, a weapon forged from the fragments of my past.


    And then the whispers began.


    Faint at first, they grew louder, incomprehensible voices rising and falling in a chaotic symphony. They weren’t mine. They didn’t belong here. They carried the weight of countless lives, stories, and secrets—fragments of the spell itself, speaking its alien truths directly into the core of my being. I gritted my teeth, fighting against the tidal wave of thoughts, but every move felt like stepping into quicksand. The glass minefield shifted with me, reshaping itself to block any path forward. I realized then: this wasn’t just about breaking me down. The spell was building something new, using the fragments of my past as raw materials.


    I couldn’t let it. I wouldn’t.


    However, the next moment, my eyes snapped open, and I found myself still sitting in the chair, my body and clothes drenched in sweat like someone had emptied a bucket of water on me. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. Beside me, Jade was staring at me with palpable nervousness, her face pale.


    “Thank God, you’re fine!” Her voice broke through, trembling with relief.


    She was at my side in an instant, wrapping her arms tightly around me. Her hands trembled as she held me, her emotions bleeding through in waves of relief and fear. Her heart thudded against mine, its frantic rhythm a mirror of my own. “You scared the hell out of me.”


    I wanted to reassure her, but my mind was racing too fast to process everything. The remnants of the spell lingered like the aftertaste of something acrid, and I felt a deep unease. The bizarre glass minefield—was no longer accessible. Jade finally pulled away, her voice trembling with residual panic. “I… I tried to touch you, but it was like you weren’t even there,” she stammered, her eyes wide and searching. “My hands went right through you, like… like you were slipping away. It was terrifying.”


    I shook my head, trying to ground myself in her words. It must have been my newly acquired intangible meta nature activating—triggered instinctively by fear to protect me. My consciousness being dragged out and into the labyrinthine space was likely tied to my meta nature too. Damn it! That old bastard Nash hadn’t said anything about the side effects as such or what the spell’s process would feel like. Typical.


    “I’m here now,” I said softly, though my voice betrayed a tremor I couldn’t suppress.


    Her brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay now? Do you feel… different?”


    I paused, scanning myself internally. Physically, I felt the same—tired, yes, but intact. Yet beneath the surface, something fundamental had shifted. My thoughts were no longer fluid but sharp and fast, leaping from one idea to another as if overclocked cpu. It was as though my brain had been rewired, like an old system replaced with bleeding-edge tech. And then I noticed something peculiar. As Jade spoke, I found myself predicting her next words before they even left her lips. My mind wasn’t just faster—it felt illuminated, as if every thought, every neuron, wasn’t firing through electrical currents anymore but through beams of light, refracted through those strange glass-like memories. Could this be the glass nature of my thoughts?


    “I’m… fine, I think,” I said hesitantly, waving my arm.


    Though my own voice sounded foreign to me, too measured, too precise. And, my arm, which was supposed to move with my words, didn’t move.


    Then, out of nowhere, the arms finally moved, completing the gesture I had thought about for what felt like an eternity.


    I sat still in the chair, trying to process what was happening to me. My mind raced, firing off thoughts and calculations at an unimaginable speed. It was like a supercomputer, processing thousands of variables in an instant. Every observation, every detail, was vividly clear and perfectly categorized in the endless library of my thoughts.


    But my body… my body refused to keep up.


    It felt like an old, sluggish machine compared to the razor-sharp efficiency of my mind. The disconnect between the two was overwhelming, like watching a high-speed train screech to a halt while still expecting it to fly down the tracks. The disorientation hit me hard.


    I decided to test it. Slowly, I willed myself to stand. The thought was clear: Rise, put weight on the legs, balance.


    But my body betrayed me. By the time the signal reached my legs, my mind had already moved on, mapping out the next action I needed to take. My knees wobbled, and before I could recalibrate, I toppled forward, collapsing in a heap on the floor.


    “Damn it,” I muttered, frustration seeping into my voice as I tried to sit up. Movements that once happened effortlessly, without conscious thought, now felt foreign and deliberate. I didn’t need to think about walking or moving my hands before—it was instinctual, muscle memory seamlessly bridging mind and body. But now, something was fundamentally altered.


    The Splinter and Mindfield spells had done more than enhance my mental capacity—they had changed me or my mind on a physical level.


    Suddenly, a realization struck me, surfacing like a shard of light in the darkness. These arcane spells didn’t work magically in the abstract sense. Their effects were literal, tangible.


    If my deductions were right, then if someone cracked open my skull right now, they wouldn’t find the soft, squishy gray matter of a normal brain. No, they’d find a literal lattice of glass shards—a damn mindfield encased in a crystalline matrix.


    I couldn’t help but think of Sir Nash and his golden bones, glimmering beneath his pale, paper-thin skin. Those weren’t just aesthetics or some magical party trick. Or byproduct of his arcane mastery; they were evidence of the spells’ physical impact.


    The same was now happening to me. My thoughts and memories were more organized, yes, but the how of it wasn’t magical mysticism—it was structural. Real, as if my gray matter was being systematically replaced with crystalline architecture. Each memory, each timeline, being cataloged and stored in geometric precision in four dimensional space, thoughts flowing through lattices of transformed matter rather than neural pathways. The spell wasn''t just affecting how I thought - it was fundamentally changing what I was thinking with. This wasn''t magic in the traditional sense; this was biological reconstruction at its most intimate level.


    The idea spiraled further: If my brain had transformed, what about the rest of me? Was I becoming a walking glass factory? What if my organs were next? Would my lungs turn into crystal bellows? My stomach into a shiny gemstone pouch? Hell, what if my heart was already pumping something far more sparkly than blood? Shouldn’t I be dead by now?


    Magic wasn’t just magical—it was too fucking magical.


    "What happened?" she asked, her voice edged with alarm as she crouched down, placing a firm hand on my shoulder.


    "I... I don’t know," I gasped, struggling to catch my breath. "It’s like my body’s out of sync with my mind. My thoughts are moving too fast, but my body… it can’t keep up.”


    Her frown deepened as she pulled me upright, "Be careful," she said softly. "You’re shaking."


    And she was right. My legs trembled beneath me, unsteady and unpredictable. Each attempt to balance felt like playing a broken video game—delayed responses and overcorrections. I tried to stabilize myself, but the effort only sent me lurching sideways. Jade caught me with ease, her arms steadying me before I could collapse.


    She caught me easily, her grip strong and steady. “You’re moving like you’re drunk,”


    I managed a weak chuckle despite myself. "Not my usual post-spell assimilation side effect."


    Her unease grew, her grip tightening slightly. "Are you sure you’re okay? Because it doesn’t look like it. Let me call someone—a doctor, a meta healer, anyone."


    "No," I said quickly, raising a trembling hand to stop her. "Not yet. First, I need you to check something." My voice was shaky but resolute. "Do you see… anything strange about me? Anything unusual?"


    She raised a shaky hand, pointing to the mirror across the room. "You… you should see yourself."


    Curiosity and dread warred within me as Jade helped me stand and guided me to the large mirror nearby. When I finally stood before the mirror, the reflection staring back at me made my blood run cold. My irises weren’t brown anymore. They were black—pitch black—but not in any natural way. It wasn’t just a dark shade; it was alive, swirling faintly within my eyes like an endless abyss.


    I stared, unable to tear my gaze away from the eerie sight. The blackness moved, twisting and rippling as though it had a mind of its own.


    The sight was eerily familiar, too familiar, and my stomach churned as realization hit me.


    It was the same darkness I’d seen in Sir Nash’s eyes. At the time, I had thought it was just a characteristic of his meta nature, an oddity unique to him. But now, staring into my own corrupted reflection, I realized my notion had only been half true.


    This was the so called Corruption of Arcane he had warned me about.


    The memory of his explanation resurfaced, and for the first time, I truly understood what he had meant. The darkness wasn’t just a part of the spell—it was a manifestation of something deeper, a price for dabbling in powers that bent the natural order. The Strangeness! It sat calm on the surface for now, but I had seen it in Nash’s eyes. The more the spell was used, the more of that darkness would rise, growing and merging into itself like a living thing. It was not just a side effect—it was alive, parasitic, and insidious.


    Fear gripped me, coiling tightly around my chest. I had known there were risks before I assimilated the spell, but facing the reality of them was another matter. Was this irreversible? I wondered. Was this strangeness now an intrinsic part of me, marking me as something… other?


    I stared at my reflection, trying to suppress the rising tide of unease. My mind raced with questions, but no answers came.


    Then, as if sensing the storm within me, Jade’s hand slipped into mine. Her touch was warm, grounding, and her soft voice cut through the chaos.


    “Take a deep breath,” she asked, though her tone tinged with concern. "Everything will be fine."


    Her question momentarily pulled me out of my spiral of thoughts.


    I needed a scan of my brain… That thought settled firmly in my mind. These spells, as promising as they had sounded, had consequences—ones that couldn’t be ignored. If I couldn’t sync my actions with my thoughts, then I was, for all intents and purposes, useless. Jade helped guide me back to the chair, her support steady as I struggled with my coordination. Once I was seated, I took a deep breath. “Get a stopwatch, pen, and paper,” I instructed, my voice calmer than I felt.


    To her credit, Jade didn’t bombard me with questions. She simply nodded, retrieved the items, and handed them over. Her silence, focused and understanding, was something I deeply appreciated in that moment.


    “How fast do neurons in our brains communicate?” I asked as I gripped the pen, my fingers trembling slightly.


    Jade furrowed her brows and searched online. “Electrical signals travel at approximately 80 to 120 meters per second,” she began. “Chemical signals take about 0.5 to 1 millisecond.”


    I nodded and began scribbling a series of messy calculations on the paper. The numbers weren’t perfect—I wasn’t trying to win an award. I just needed a rough estimate of how fast my thoughts were now being generated and transmitted. If the medium had indeed changed, and my neurons were communicating at speeds closer to—or even half—the speed of light, then the shift in my perception and actions made a lot more sense.


    Finally, I placed the notebook down with a sigh. The conclusion wasn’t shocking, but it was sobering.


    It wasn’t about the difference in timing. The adjustments were still measured in milliseconds, only slightly faster than the original speed. The real issue was that while my brain now worked exponentially faster, the signals travelling down my spinal cord and throughout my body were still moving at the normal human speed.


    It was like my mind was overclocked, running on a futuristic processor, while the rest of my body remained an old, clunky machine trying to catch up.


    The solution, at least for now, was clear: I needed to calm my mind and stop overthinking. My brain was firing too fast for its own good, and I had to forcibly slow it down.


    Taking another deep breath, I focused on wiping my mind clean of any thoughts, letting the chaos dissipate.


    I stopped thinking.


    For the first time since activating the spell, I felt a semblance of balance returning.


    My body began to feel less sluggish as my mind''s overclocked pace gradually slowed, inching closer to alignment with my physical actions.


    Tentatively, I tried lifting my hand—and voilà! It moved effortlessly.


    I waved it back and forth, testing it further, then thought of another action. There was a slight delay, close to half a millisecond, but it was manageable. Encouraged, I stood on my feet cautiously, holding my breath as if the balance might betray me again. But this time, there was no wobble. I let out a deep sigh and instinctively turned to Jade, who had been watching me with a mix of worry and anticipation. A deep breath filled my lungs, and relief washed over me. Without a second thought,I reached for Jade, pulling her into a tight hug. My arms wrapping around her like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, the fear—the possibility of being trapped within my own mind—faded into the background. All that mattered was her. I clung to Jade as if she were the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.


    She stiffened in my arms, her body freezing in surprise. Then, with a soft sigh, she relaxed, her arms wrapping around me in return. Her embrace was warm, “You scared me,” she murmured, her voice muffled against my chest. “Don’t ever do that again, you idiot.”


    "I swear, I didn’t mean to,” I murmured, burying my face in her hair. “But I’m okay now. I think… whatever the spell did, it’s manageable.”


    She pulled back slightly, her hands gripping my shoulders as she looked up at me, her silver eyes narrowed. “Manageable or not, if you pull another stunt like that, I’ll—”


    “—beat me until I understand?” I finished for her with a soft chuckle, my smile betraying how much I enjoyed her concern.


    “Yes,” she huffed, her cheeks puffing slightly in annoyance. “You’re laughing, but I’m serious. This—” she gestured vaguely at me and eyes, her voice rising slightly, “—this isn’t something you should mess around with. Do you even realize what would’ve happened if you didn’t come back from... whatever that was?”


    I nodded, taking her words to heart. “You’re right.”


    For now, I couldn’t shake the apprehension about the remaining three spells. What kind of changes would they bring? Could I risk using them on myself—or even giving them to Jade? They were bound to reshape us in profound ways, and that thought left me unsettled.


    “Let’s go upstairs,” I said, agreeing to her demands without hesitation, “I feel exhausted.”


    <hr>


    We sank back into the sofa, the tension in the air slowly ebbing away. I closed my eyes, letting the silence envelop us. My mind drifted to the possibilities—what the spell had done to me, how it might have altered my very being. The sharp clarity of my memories was startling. Events from my past, even those buried deep in the folds of time, surfaced with an intensity that made them feel fresh.


    Tentatively, I reached further back, daring to touch the edges of a timeline that felt almost forgotten: my first cycle.


    And then, without warning, my vision blurred and shifted.


    I was back.


    The mindscape—or the mindfield, as I’d come to call it—unfolded around me.


    The space extended infinitely in all directions, a breathtaking maze of double helix structures, their spiraling forms towering endlessly above and below me. Their translucent glow pulsed faintly, like the rhythm of a distant heartbeat. Each strand was laced with crystals of varying shapes, sizes, and hues, forming a seemingly endless lattice. But what truly caught my attention was the four-dimensional nature of the space—height, width, depth, and time itself interwoven into the geometry. The helixes and crystals shifted in ways that defied comprehension, as though they existed in a space that only the subconscious could fathom.


    Also it didn''t feel hostile anymore, as though the spell had finished its task of reshaping my mental landscape. This time, I didn’t feel like a trespasser in my own mind.


    Relief washed over me, loosening the knot in my chest. The earlier terror that the spell had irreparably damaged me began to dissipate. With a clearer head, I could finally study this strange, otherworldly space for what it was—a construct, built from fragments of my past and bound together by the spell’s design. Each crystal it it was alive, playing fragments of my memories across its shimmering surface. I reached out, tentatively brushing my fingers against one, and immediately, a vivid scene from my life sprang to life in my mind.


    It wasn’t just a memory. It was all of it—the sights, the sounds, the emotions, the very thoughts I had in that moment. A perfect replica, preserved in crystalline clarity.


    Focusing on the memory caused the lattice to ripple. The double helixes twisted and rotated, moving in an intricate yet incomprehensible motion, carrying me through the space. Yet, I wasn’t moving myself; the mindfield shifted around me. No, opposite. Ugh! I couldn''t tell. It was too confusing.


    Then another cluster of crystals came into view, glowing faintly with a familiar light. On their surfaces, moments from my first cycle began to play. My heart raced as I stared at the vivid images of a life that felt both alien and mine. These were memories I had thought long lost—buried under layers of time and repetition. Yet here they were, pristine and untouched. I stepped closer—or rather, the mindfield brought me closer—examining the memory more closely. The crystal pulsed, and as I reached out, it seemed to respond to my touch, unraveling its contents further. The scene grew larger, filling my vision entirely. I saw my younger self, laughing with my family in the garden, the scent of freshly cut grass almost tangible. The emotions of that moment—pure joy, warmth, and belonging—surged through me.


    I pulled back, overwhelmed.


    The shards weren’t just memories—they were living pieces of me, suspended in a way that made them feel more real than ever before.


    And for anyone who dared to invade this space. If someone tried to read my mind without my me being a guide, they would be drawn to these glass shards as they detonate in this consciousness like stepped on a minefield—and the consequences would be catastrophic.


    “Impressive work,” I muttered, a wry smile tugging at my lips. “But let’s hope I never have to use it.”


    The experience was both scary and exhilarating, and my earlier fear of the spells mostly faded. My thoughts raced. I came to the conclusion, this space wasn’t just a repository of memories—it was alive, reacting to me in ways I couldn’t fully perceive and fanthom. However, for now, I didn''t know if it was a good thing or bad. And, I couldn’t think of possibly using the other spells at the moment.


    Suddenly, a familiar voice pulled me back to reality.


    “North?” Jade’s voice was soft but laced with concern. My eyes snapped open, meeting her gaze. She was perched on the edge of the sofa, watching me closely.


    “You zoned out,” she said, her brow furrowed. “What happened?”


    “Nothing bad,” I assured her. “Just… testing the new hardware.”


    She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And?”


    “And it’s seemed to be working,” I replied with a small grin.


    Jade let out a soft laugh, though the worry in her eyes lingered. She shifted closer to me on the sofa, her curiosity palpable.


    “You never actually told me,” she began, taking my hand in hers and playing with my fingers to get the words out of me more easily, “What was this spell supposed to do, exactly?”


    I hesitated for a moment, trying to gauge how much I should share. The truth? Too complicated—and potentially alarming. Instead, I opted for a more superficial explanation.


    “It’s supposed to… make me think better,” I said with a casual shrug, avoiding her eyes.


    Jade raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching “Think better? That’s your big, impressive spell? What’s next—one that helps you tie your shoes?”


    I shot her a mock glare, “Hey, don’t knock it. Thinking better is an underrated skill.”


    “Underrated or underutilized?” she quipped.


    “Wow,” I said, clutching my chest dramatically. “Straight for the heart. Remind me why I let you stay around again?”


    “Because you’d be lost without me,” she replied, her grin softening into a fond smile.


    I sighed, leaning back into the sofa. “You’re not wrong,” I admitted quietly, meeting her gaze. “But seriously, the spell’s more complicated than that. I’ll explain it properly—someday.”


    “Someday,” she echoed, rolling her eyes but letting it slide.


    “Fine. Just don’t let it fry that better-thinking brain of yours.”