Chapter 2 - Mischevous twins
The forest had a way of swallowing sound.
Not completely just enough that everything felt softer. The wind through the leaves came out like a hush instead of a whisper. Footsteps sank into dirt and moss instead of echoing. Even voices, when raised, never seemed to travel very far.
It made their house feel… separate.
A small wooden structure tucked between uneven trees, with a crooked fence that had long since given up pretending to keep anything out. Smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, thin and inconsistent.
Inside, it was louder.
"Elliot, don't touch that."
"I'm not!"
"You are touching it."
"I'm just looking at it!"
"You are holding it."
A pause.
"…I'm holding it."
Elizabeth stood with her arms crossed, watching him with a look that was far too judgmental for someone his exact age.
Elliot, crouched near the low table, held up the small object in his hands a dull, metallic shard etched with faint markings that shimmered if you looked at it too long.
"It's just a rock," he said.
"It's not a rock," Elizabeth replied immediately. "It's one of Mom's relic things."
"It doesn't even do anything."
"That's because you don't know how to use it."
"I could figure it out."
"No, you couldn't."
Elliot frowned at that, turning the shard over in his hands like it might suddenly prove her wrong.
"I could," he insisted.
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, studying him.
Then, very calmly:
"If you drop it, it might explode."
Elliot froze.
"…Really?"
"I don't know," she said. "But it might."
He slowly placed it back on the table.
Elizabeth nodded once, satisfied, then turned away like the matter had been resolved exactly as intended.
From the other side of the room, their mother sighed.
"I heard that," she said, not even looking up from the spread of objects laid out before her. "And no, it won't explode."
Elliot immediately perked up again. "See?"
Elizabeth didn't even turn back. "It could have."
"It couldn't."
"It might have."
"It didn't!"
"That's because I stopped you."
"You didn't...!"
"Both of you," their mother cut in, finally glancing over.
The twins went quiet.
She was seated at a larger table, surrounded by items that looked like they didn't belong together old metal fragments, glass vials, scraps of parchment, a broken pendant with a faint glow that pulsed every few seconds. Her hands moved carefully between them, adjusting, observing, sometimes pausing mid-motion like she was listening to something no one else could hear.
"You're not supposed to touch anything on this table," she said. "Especially that one."
Elliot leaned forward slightly. "Why?"
"Because it reacts poorly to people who don't know what they're doing."
Elizabeth smirked faintly. "So just him, then."
Elliot shot her a look. "Hey."
Their mother hid a small smile before returning to her work.
Across the room, a different sound cut through the quiet pages turning, slower, heavier.
Their father sat near the window, where the light was best, a thick notebook resting on his lap. Several others were stacked beside him, some filled, some half-written, all marked with notes and diagrams that meant very little to anyone else in the room.
He didn't look up.
"Elliot," he said.
Elliot stiffened slightly.
"…Yeah?"
"Come here."
Elizabeth immediately leaned against the wall, clearly interested.
Elliot walked over, slower than necessary, and stopped just in front of him.
Their father turned a page, then tapped a section with his finger.
"Read this."
Elliot looked down.
There were symbols. Lines. Words he recognized… but didn't really understand when they were put together like that.
He squinted.
"…It's about… mana?"
"That's the title," his father replied flatly. "Keep going."
Elliot tried.
"…Mana… moves… uh…"
The silence stretched.
Elizabeth covered her mouth slightly, very clearly not trying hard enough to hide it.
Elliot glanced up. "I know this one."
"Then say it."
"…It's… the thing mages use?"
A pause.
Their father exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.
"Yes," he said. "That is… technically correct."
Elliot brightened a little.
"I told you."
"But that's not the point."
The brightness dimmed.
Their father tapped the page again, this time more firmly.
"It's not enough to know what something is. You need to understand how it works. Why it works. What happens when it doesn't."
Elliot looked back down at the page.
The symbols didn't change.
They still didn't make sense.
"…It's complicated," he muttered.
"It's basic," his father replied.
Elizabeth stepped closer now, peeking over Elliot's shoulder.
"Oh," she said after a second. "It's talking about flow direction."
Their father glanced at her.
"Explain."
"It's like water," she said. "If you block it, it pushes somewhere else. If you guide it, it goes where you want."
A small pause.
Then their father nodded once.
"Good."
Elliot frowned.
"…That's what I meant."
"It's not," Elizabeth said.
"It is."
"It's not."
"It is."
"It's not."
Their father closed the notebook.
"That's enough."
The argument died immediately.
Elliot stepped back, scratching the back of his head, not entirely sure what he did wrong just that something about it didn't feel good.
Their father looked at him for a moment longer than usual.
Then, quieter:
"You need to try harder."
Elliot nodded.
"Yeah."
But it wasn't convincing.
Not even to himself.
Outside, something crashed.
Both twins turned instantly.
Elizabeth's eyes lit up first.
Elliot followed right after.
They didn't say anything.
They didn't need to.
By the time their mother looked up again
..they were already gone.
"...Oh my god" Their mother could only let out a exasperated expression but also concern.
The forest swallowed them just as easily as it always did.
Branches snapped under careless steps. Dirt scattered as they ran too fast for any real purpose.
"What do you think it was?" Elliot asked.
"Does it matter?" Elizabeth replied.
"…No."
"Exactly."
She veered off slightly, already adjusting direction based on nothing Elliot could see.
He followed anyway.
He always did.
Somewhere behind them, their mother called their names.
Their father didn't.
The sound faded quickly.
The forest closed in again.
And just like that
they were on their own.
They were not supposed to be near the road.
That was the rule.
It had been said more than once clearly, firmly, and with enough emphasis that even Elliot understood it was important.
Which, of course, meant Elizabeth had already decided it was worth breaking.
"The carts pass here," she said, crouched low behind a cluster of bushes, peering through the gaps like she was studying prey.
Elliot crouched beside her, though with significantly less grace.
"…So?"
"So," she continued, patient in the way she only was when explaining something she found obvious, "if carts pass here, that means they go somewhere."
"…Yeah?"
"Somewhere not here."
Elliot blinked.
"…Oh."
Elizabeth glanced at him briefly.
"That took you a while."
"I got it," he muttered.
"Eventually."
They stayed there a moment longer, watching.
The road wasn't particularly busy, but every so often, a cart would pass wooden wheels grinding against packed dirt, carrying crates, sacks, sometimes covered goods that hinted at things Elliot couldn't quite name.
Each time, Elizabeth's eyes followed.
Tracking.
Thinking.
"…Do you think we've been outside the forest before?" Elliot asked suddenly.
"No."
"…What if there's more stuff out there?"
"There is."
"How do you know?"
She gave him a look.
"Because people don't build roads for no reason."
"…Oh."
Silence again.
Then.
"We should go," she said.
"What?"
"To the capital."
Elliot stared at her.
"…We can't just go to the capital."
"Why not?"
"Because....because..."
He paused.
Actually thinking.
"…Because we're not allowed?"
Elizabeth tilted her head.
"That's not a real reason."
"It is."
"It's a rule."
"That's the same thing."
"It's not."
Elliot frowned, struggling to explain something he felt but couldn't properly say.
"They said not to," he repeated.
Elizabeth looked back at the road.
Then, simply:
"Then we'll go with them."
Elliot blinked.
"…What?"
They didn't go that day.
Or the next.
Or even the day after that.
But the idea didn't go away.
If anything, it grew.
Elizabeth started watching more closely.
Listening when their parents spoke.
Not interrupting just paying attention.
Elliot noticed it, vaguely, but didn't question it.
He never really did.
Then one morning.
"You're coming with us."
Both twins looked up at the same time.
Their mother stood by the doorway, arms folded, expression already halfway between resigned and cautious.
"The capital?" Elizabeth asked immediately.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Work," their father answered from behind her. "Your mother has business. I have… things to check."
Elizabeth's eyes sharpened slightly.
Elliot just grinned.
"We're going?"
"You're coming," their mother corrected. "Which is not the same thing."
That didn't change how it felt.
The forest didn't feel as big when you were leaving it.
The trees thinned slowly at first, then all at once.
The quiet followed them for a while clinging to the edges of sound, before finally giving up to something louder.
Wheels.
Voices.
Movement.
Elliot had seen people before.
Just not this many.
By the time the capital came into view, he had already stopped trying to keep track of everything.
Stone walls rose ahead of them, tall and solid in a way the forest never was. Guards stood at the entrance, armor catching light in sharp flashes. Beyond them, buildings stretched upward stacked, layered, too many to count.
"…It's big," Elliot said.
"It's inefficient," Elizabeth replied.
He looked at her.
"…What?"
"Too many people in one place," she said. "Too many blind spots."
"You're not even inside yet."
"I don't need to be."
Their parents didn't comment.
They were already moving.
Inside, everything changed.
The air felt different thicker, filled with overlapping sounds that didn't fade the way they did in the forest. Conversations blended together. Metal clanged somewhere in the distance. Someone shouted. Someone laughed.
Elliot turned his head constantly, trying to take everything in at once.
Shops lined the streets.
Weapons displayed openly swords, spears, polished and clean. Strange objects sat behind glass cases, glowing faintly. Cloaked figures passed by, some with staffs, others with armor that looked too heavy to move in.
"…Whoa," he breathed.
Elizabeth didn't react the same way.
Her gaze moved differently.
Not wide.
Focused.
Measuring.
Counting.
"Stay close," their mother said, not looking back.
"We are," Elliot answered automatically.
They weren't.
Not really.
Because staying close required attention.
And attention… slipped.
A merchant called out loudly, drawing Elliot's eyes for just a second.
A group of armored knights passed by, their presence shifting the flow of the crowd.
Someone bumped into someone else.
Movement stacked on movement.
And somewhere in that.
Elizabeth stepped sideways.
Not far.
Just enough.
Elliot followed immediately.
Of course he did.
He always did.
Their parents kept walking.
They didn't notice.
Not yet.
The crowd closed behind them.
Sound swallowed the space where they had been.
And just like that...
the distance was made.
Elliot looked around.
"…Uh."
Elizabeth didn't.
She was already looking somewhere else.
Ahead.
At something specific.
Her lips curved slightly.
"Elliot," she said.
"Yeah?"
"I have an idea."
He didn't hesitate.
"Okay."