Fin had learned to keep quiet.
For three years, he listened, absorbed everything around him like a sponge dropped in an ocean. The world fascinated him with its magical wonders and peculiar customs, but there were moments when certain conversations mad his brain itch with irritation.
Because they got things wrong. Not just occasionally, but constantly, fundamentally wrong.
He understood why, of course. This world hadn’t developed along the same scientific trajectory as Earth. Here, magic superseded inquiry, with most people accepting their understanding as absolute because the System itself reinforced their beliefs. There was no pressing need to question fundamental forces when you could simply command them with a gesture. Why study electrical conduction when lightning mages could summon crackling electricity from the palm of their hands? Why investigate thermodynamics when fire mages could conjure dancing flames from nothing but will and mana?
But today, today was a special kind of intellectual torture.
He sat perched on an ornately carved mahogany bench in the solar, its cushions embroidered with a soaring phoenix in red thread. Sunlight streamed through tall leaded windows, casting diamond patterns across the polished stone floor as Fin quietly flipped through an illustrated bestiary. His small fingers traced the detailed renderings of griffons and wyverns while his ears remained firmly tuned to the conversation unfolding before him.
His mother, Cahira, sat across from their distinguished visitor, Lord Edric of House Krox; a portly man with a magnificent salt-and-pepper beard and reputation as one of the kingdom’s foremost scholars on elemental theory. Between them lay a silver tea service, delicate wisps of steam rising from porcelain cups rimmed with gold as they discussed magical principles over afternoon refreshments.
“Lightning is a volatile force,” Edric mused, swirling his amber tea thoughtfully. His rings, signets of magical achievement, clinked softly against the cup. “Wild. Unpredictable. It is fire given fury by the heavens themselves, an element of chaos and destruction.”
Fin’s grip tightened on the book, his knuckles whitening ever so slightly.
“Indeed,” Cahira agreed, elegantly sipping her tea. Her sapphire pendant glinted in the sunlight. “That is why few attempt to master it alone. Lightning mages are known for their mercurial tempers. The energy warps them over time, makes them reckless and impulsive. The element is unstable by nature, unlike fire, which can be controlled with proper discipline and training.”
Fire and lightning were not the same. Not even close. One was a chemical reaction fueled by combustion, the rapid oxidation of material releasing heat and light. The other was a movement of electrons, a discharge of built-up electrical potential seeking ground. They operated on entirely different principles. How could they not see the fundamental difference?
“The greatest difficulty,” Edric continued, reaching for a honey-glazed pastry from the silver tray, “is that lightning does not linger. It strikes, devastates, and vanishes. One cannot store a bolt in a bottle as one might contain a flame with wick and oil.”
Fin barely resisted the urge to slam the leather-bound tome shut. That’s literally what a capacitor does. That’s EXACTLY what a battery does.
He tried to breathe. He really did. Normally, he had the patience of a saint, letting these scientific inaccuracies slide past like water off oiled cloth. But listening to them talk about lightning as if it were merely an unruly cousin of fire was absolutely unbearable. He wanted to leap from his seat, grab them both by their noble shoulders, and explain the principles of electromagnetism with diagrams and demonstrations.
But he was three. Three years old in this world, with cute chubby cheeks and wide innocent eyes that belied the adult intellect trapped behind them.
And three-year-olds weren’t supposed to know what a capacitor was, let alone understand the principles of electrical discharge or plasma formation.
Still, his frustration simmered as they continued their misguided conversation, passing theories back and forth like merchants trading in counterfeit goods. The household attendants moved silently around them, refreshing tea and adjusting cushions, their expressions revealing nothing as the scholarly discussion progressed.
And then…
“And that is why lightning is just a more chaotic form of fire magic,” Edric concluded smugly, taking another self-satisfied sip of tea. “Both burn, both consume, both leave ash in their wake. Only their temperaments differ.”
Fin snapped.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
Silence fell over the solar like a heavy blanket.
His mother slowly turned, teacup hovering mere inches from her lips, her expression shifting from polite interest to stunned surprise. Edric raised a bushy eyebrow, looking mildly amused at the sudden outburst from the child who had, until now, been utterly silent in their presence.
Fin clenched his tiny fists, feeling the weight of every gaze in the room. The bestiary slipped from his lap, landing with a soft thud on the polished floor. There was no going back now.
“Lightning isn’t fire,” he declared, sitting up straighter on the bench, his voice clear and authoritative despite its childish pitch. “It’s plasma! It happens because of ionized gas and electrical potential building up between the clouds and the ground! That’s why you hear thunder after the flash, because light moves faster than sound!”
More silence. A long, heavy silence that seemed to stretch the very fabric of time.
Cahira’s teacup met the saucer with a quiet clink that echoed in the stillness. Her brown eyes widened, fixed on her son as if seeing him truly for the first time.
Edric blinked once, twice. “I…”
“It’s not wild or random, either!” Fin pressed on, momentum carrying him forward like a runaway cart down a steep hill. “Electricity follows paths of least resistance. That’s why lightning forks, it’s looking for the easiest way to the ground! It’s predictable if you understand the principles! And you can store it, just not in a bottle. You need something like a Leyden jar, or a capacitor, or any conductive material insulated from ground that can hold a charge difference and…”
He stopped mid-sentence, the words drying up in his throat.
His mother was staring at him, lips parted in astonishment. So was Edric, his bushy eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. Even the household attendants had frozen in their duties, their carefully maintained expressions of neutrality cracking as their gazes flicked between the precocious three-year-old and his increasingly alarmed mother.
Fin’s stomach dropped like a stone in a well.
Oh
Oh, no.
He had just blown his cover completely.
Three years of careful restraint of pretending to be a normal child learning words and concepts at an appropriate pace, undone in a moment of scientific indignation. He might as well have stood up and announced, “Hello, I’m actually a reincarnated adult from another world with knowledge far beyond my apparent years.”
Edric was the first to react, and to Fin’s surprise, he laughed. A full, genuine chuckle that rumbled from his barrel chest as he set down his cup, studying Fin with newfound interest that sparkled in his eyes like…well, like lightning.
“Well, that was certainly unexpected,” he mused, stroking his magnificent beard. “Your son has quite the tongue on him, Lady Cahira. And, apparently, the mind of a scholar multiple times his age. Plasma, was it? Fascinating terminology.”
Cahira opened her mouth, closed it, then finally turned toward the doorway where Donovan, Fin's father, had entered the solar just in time to hear the outburst. His tall frame leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Did you know about this?” she demanded, gesturing toward their son with a mixture of confusion and something approaching alarm.
Donovan simply smirked, the scar at the corner of his mouth pulling his expression into something knowing and sly.
“Oh, I suspected something.” He uncrossed his arms and walked over, ruffling Fin’s dark hair with a calloused hand.
Fin frowned up at him, equal parts relieved and indignant. “You knew? All this time?”
“Of course, I suspected something. You think you’re the only one good at observing people?” Donovan chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I figured you’d show your hand eventually. Just didn’t expect it to be over elemental theory at afternoon tea.”
Cahira ran a slender hand down her face, her composure cracking slightly. “This isn’t normal. Children his age shouldn’t be discussing… plasma and electrical potential.” She stumbled slightly over the unfamiliar terms.
“No,” Edric agreed, still smiling, eyes alight with scholarly interest. “It’s not normal at all. It’s extraordinary. Perhaps unprecedented.” He leaned forward, studying Fin with newfound intensity. “Young man, where did you learn such concepts?”
Fin froze, panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t prepared an explanation for this moment.
Donovan smoothly intercepted, placing a protective hand on Fin’s shoulder. “My son has always been… special. We’ve noted his unusual aptitude since he was an infant. Haven’t we, Cahira?”
She hesitated, then nodded slowly, regaining her composure. “Yes. He was speaking in full sentences before most children manage their first words.” This, at least, was true.
Cahira sighed, shaking her head. “What are we supposed to do with him? He’s clearly beyond the nursery already.”
Donovan met Fin's gaze, considering him with those penetrating gray eyes that seemed to see straight through pretense. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, the kind that promised adventure and possibility.
“We find him a proper tutor, of course,” he declared. “Someone who can challenge that mind of his. Perhaps even someone willing to entertain… unconventional theories about elemental magic.” He glanced meaningfully at Edric.
Fin's heart skipped a beat, hope rising in his chest like a tide.
A tutor. Access to structured knowledge beyond the children's books and overheard conversations he'd been subsisting on. A legitimate way to formally study this world and its magical principles without having to hide his intellect. A chance to actually learn instead of pretending ignorance.
Maybe blurting out plasma physics in a fit of scientific indignation hadn't been such a terrible mistake after all.
"I might know someone suitable," Edric mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "An unconventional thinker from the Academy. Brilliant, if somewhat eccentric. He's been developing some rather unorthodox theories about the fundamental nature of elemental magic himself."
"Perfect," Donovan declared, clapping his hands together decisively. "Make the arrangements. The sooner, the better."
As his parents and Lord Edric discussed plans for his early education, their voices rising and falling with excitement and caution in equal measure, Fin felt something settle in his chest, a weightlifting, replaced by anticipation. This was the first, solid step on his path to truly understanding and perhaps mastering the unknown forces of this world.