The morning sun spilled through the trees, scattering dappled patterns of gold across the clearing. The air smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke; Teerom had a fire going, its gentle crackle marking the rhythm of another quiet day on the outskirts of Gouon.

  Everyone had gathered in a loose circle outside the cottage. The orphans sat cross-legged in the grass, a mix of sleepy curiosity and excitement lighting their faces. At the center sat Paley, with Madella kneeling before him.

  “All right,” she said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s find out what your Magic Type is.”

  Paley swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

  “First,” Madella continued, her voice even and soothing, “touch the ground. Feel its mana. Don’t overthink it—just listen with more than your ears.”

  Paley pressed his palm flat against the earth. It was cool and solid beneath his skin. He breathed slowly, trying to quiet his mind, waiting for something to happen. A faint hum arose, a deep and steady thrum that seemed to vibrate up his arm.

  “Now,” Madella said, “the water.”

  Teerom passed him a small wooden bowl. Paley dipped his fingers in, closing his eyes. The sensation was different - fluid, yielding, the mana swirling around his skin like a current - but the feeling it awoke in his chest was the same.

  “Can you tell a difference?” she asked, her gaze watchful.

  Paley shook his head. “No. They… they feel the same.”

  A small frown line appeared between Madella’s brows. “Try the air.”

  He exhaled and spread his hand, palm up. A faint whisper of wind ghosted through his fingers. The mana here was harder to grasp, more subtle and diffuse - but again, it was familiar. The same hum, the same steady warmth that felt like it belonged to him.

  “They all feel alike,” he admitted, a hint of apology in his voice.

  Madella’s brow furrowed deeper. “Strange. You don’t feel a closer connection to one than the others?”

  “No.”

  Madella pursed her lips, thinking. “If that’s the case, then let’s test the last one.” She gestured to the campfire. “Fire tends to draw strong reactions. Teerom, if you would.”

  Teerom nodded and muttered a short incantation. His hand glowed faintly as he cast a shimmering, nearly invisible layer of energy over Paley’s skin. “Protection Magic,” he explained. “You won’t get burned.”

  Paley reached hesitantly toward the flame. The fire licked against his hand, a weightless, harmless touch. He felt its mana - wild, alive, dancing with chaotic energy - but still, it resonated with that same familiar core.

  Madella’s calm expression finally broke into visible confusion. “All four… feel the same to you?”

  He nodded again, a flicker of worry in his eyes. “Is that bad?”

  “No,” she said slowly, though her tone suggested otherwise, “but it’s… very not common. It means this test won’t work on you. You might have a unique Magic Type - something beyond the four core elements.” She leaned back, still processing. “We would need a proper mage to examine you then.”

  Teerom whistled, low and long. “You’re full of surprises, Paley.”

  The rest of the day passed in the warm, easy rhythm of chores. Paley threw himself into helping, eager to prove his worth. He swept floors, patched a leak in the roof, and even scrubbed the dinner pots when Madella wasn’t looking. At one point he asked, his voice half-shy, if he could help with the cooking. She smiled and handed him a knife with a knowing look. “Careful with that,” she warned, though he seemed more focused on not disappointing her than on the sharpness of the blade.

  Later, as the rich smell of stew began to fill the cottage, the youngest of the orphans, Amasha, plopped down beside him on the floor. He was small, with dark hair that stuck up like a feather duster and eyes full of mischief.

  “Hey, Paley,” Amasha began, swinging his legs. “Wanna talk about the Monkey King?”

  “Who’s that?”

  Amasha gasped as if Paley had just insulted a god. “You don’t know the Monkey King?! He’s the coolest hero ever! He’s half-monster, half-human - super strong, super fast! He could leap across mountains and punch demons straight back to the Demon Realm!”

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  Paley tilted his head. “Half-monster?”

  “Yeah! There are lots of half-monsters out there. Some are scary, but the Monkey King wasn’t. He protected people. He used this crazy magic: World Bender Magic!” He puffed his chest out proudly, as if he’d just uttered a legend - though, he technically did.

  Paley smiled. “What does that do?”

  “No idea,” Amasha said cheerfully. “But it sounds awesome!” He hopped up and began shadow-boxing an invisible foe. “Hiya! World Bender Strike!”

  His arm whipped forward in an exaggerated punch - but this time, it didn’t stop where it should have. His small fist tapped Paley squarely on the nose.

  Caught off guard, Paley fell backward, crashing right into Madella as she carried a frying pan full of sizzling oil. The pan flipped, launching its contents into the air. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The oil glinted mid-flight like a spray of molten glass.

  Without a single thought, Paley raised his hand.

  The oil froze - suspended in midair. Each droplet hung weightless and shimmering. For a single moment everything was still. Then Paley blinked, his focus breaking, and the oil settled harmlessly back into the pan with a soft thump.

  Madella stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief. “That was… Air Magic?”

  Paley shook his head faintly, his own heart hammering against his ribs. “I… I don’t know.”

  Teerom, who had seen the whole thing, stepped forward with a grin that was far too wide for the situation. “No way. You’re telling me you didn’t even try?”

  Paley rubbed the back of his neck, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. “It just felt like the right thing to do.”

  Jurie, who had been watching from the doorway, crossed her arms. “So what does that mean?”

  Teerom’s eyes gleamed with a sudden, wild light of understanding. “It means,” he breathed, “he might be a Quimnia.”

  Madella turned sharply, her voice tense. “Teerom-”

  “What? It fits!” he insisted, his words tumbling out faster with every breath. “A Quimnia can use all four elements! Aneros was one - one of the Four Quimnia that stopped the Great Demon Invasions! He fought off a whole army of cultists with just Earth and Wind magic-”

  Jurie rolled her eyes, but a faint blush touched her cheeks. “You and your hero stories.”

  “Hey, they’re true!” Teerom shot back. “And if Paley’s one of them - well, that’s insane!”

  Madella frowned, still shaken from the near-disaster. “We can’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Then let’s test it,” Teerom urged, his excitement palpable. “Paley - try to conjure something. Anything.”

  Paley nodded nervously, the eyes of every orphan fixed on him. He focused, trying to recall the feeling of warmth from the fire earlier. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Teerom handed him a cup of water. Even Rauba leaned forward slightly, her usual impassivity gone.

  “Start with this.”

  Paley dipped his fingers in and concentrated. The surface rippled - and then, as if obeying a silent command, a small spiral of water lifted into the air, spinning gently.

  A collective gasp went through the small crowd. Even Madella took an involuntary step back.

  Teerom’s grin widened. “Okay… now try wind.”

  Paley closed his eyes. A whisper of air brushed past their faces, rustling their hair, gentle but deliberate.

  Jurie’s eyes were wide. “He did it.”

  “One in a billion people,” Teerom breathed, his voice filled with awe. “Now… Earth.”

  Paley hesitated, then pressed his hand to the ground. The soil trembled faintly. A few pebbles lifted an inch into the air before settling back down.

  “Four?” Teerom whispered. “All four?”

  Madella’s face had gone pale. “That’s not possible.”

  But Paley wasn’t finished. A flicker of thought, an instinctual pull, and the cloth on a nearby table began to smoke. In seconds, it burst into a controlled flame that danced harmlessly on the fabric, flickering like a captive heartbeat.

  Even the wind outside seemed to hold its breath.

  Teerom exhaled, a shaky, reverent sound. “It’s real… he’s really-”

  Madella moved then, stepping forward and kneeling before Paley. Her hands trembled as she cupped his face, her eyes welling with tears. “No,” she whispered, her voice choked with a sudden, terrible grief. “Not a child.”

  Paley blinked, confused by her sorrow. “Why are you crying?”

  “Because,” she said, her voice breaking, “the Quimnia... if one appears... it means a Demon Invasion is coming; worse than the one before it.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy and cold as stone.

  She hugged him tightly, a desperate, protective embrace, as if she could shield him from fate itself. “Please, don’t tell anyone. If the nobles learn what you are, they’ll take you. They’ll turn you into a weapon.”

  Paley hesitated, then slowly rested his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself,” he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. “But I feel at home here. If being a Quimnia would take me away from that…” He paused, his gaze meeting hers, clear and certain. “Then I’m not a Quimnia. I’m just Paley. If that’s okay with all of you.”

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then Teerom’s face broke into a wide, shining grin. “You’re stuck with us, bud.”

  Bacha clapped her hands. “You have no parents, so you're one of us!”

  Even Jurie allowed a small, genuine smile, though she crossed her arms to hide it.

  Madella laughed through her tears, a sound of profound relief, and hugged him again. Around them, the orphans cheered, the small clearing echoing with their laughter and warmth. As the sun sank below the trees, Paley looked at each of their faces - Teerom’s proud grin, Madella’s gentle smile, Amasha’s bouncing excitement despite not yet knowing what a Quimnia truly is - and made a quiet promise to himself.

  If they’re my family now, he thought, then I’ll protect them. I’ll get stronger. Whatever this power means - I’ll use it to keep them safe.

  The fire crackled softly beside him, steady and bright; a small, fragile flame, burning against the coming dark.