Side Story: New Era (Part II)

“What’d you tell our son this time?” Edlyn leaned into Eli like a cat to a sun-warmed step, her smile rippling like tea in light.

“Nothing much,” Eli said, voice calm as still water. “He seems to have picked up a strange power. I just explained a few things.”

“Mm-hm. Sure.” She slid onto his lap, eyes laughing like crescent moons. “You two—grand schemer and little schemer—hiding something from me?”

Eli’s hands settled on her waist like anchors on quiet tide. “It’s really that simple. He can nudge airflow a bit.”

“Magic?”

“No. Not magic.” He frowned, gaze steady as a plumb line. “No spell arrays, no rune keystones. This world doesn’t even have elemental spirits. Basically, magic can’t be born here.”

“Is that so?” A pinch of worry tightened, then Edlyn sat up straight, her tone steady as a drawn bow. “Then mine isn’t magic either.”

“Hm?” Eli looked at her, surprise bright as struck flint.

Edlyn lifted a finger. Above her pale, slim hand, a knot of black flame bloomed like ink set on fire, whooshing under the push of her power.

“You have it too?” Eli blinked, surprise turning like a weather vane.

“Found it by accident, not long ago.” She snuffed the flame and scratched her head, sheepish as a kid caught red-handed. “Our gas stove broke. I was fussing with it, and this just… showed up.”

“Tsk.” Eli rubbed his temple, a helpless smile curving like a crescent. “A bit much, aren’t you?”

“Just telling it straight.” She shrugged, easy as a leaf on a ripple.

“So this is what you call an ability?” Edlyn raised her hand again, eyeing the flame like a jeweler studying a rare gem. “An anomalous state that needs no mana to feed it.”

Eli smiled and slid his hand into the fire, skin unflinching as forged steel. He nodded and pulled back. “Around three thousand degrees. Against ordinary people, that’s plenty.”

“Not just that.” Her eyes sharpened like stars after rain. “I can strengthen it with my mental force.”

The flame burst like fireworks, then wound itself into a tiny cyclone, then tightened down to its first shape—only darker, denser, like night steeped in ink.

Eli lifted a brow, approval warm as lamplight. “You’re picking it up fast.”

“Of course I am. Do you know who you’re talking to?” Edlyn tipped her nose, proud as a peacock.

“This heat jumped dozens of times.” Eli’s gaze thinned like a blade. “Can you push it further?”

“Not for now.” She frowned, focus narrowing like a lens. “If I add more mental force, it smothers the flame.”

She pressed on—and the fire winked out like a candle in wind.

“So.” Eli’s smile was a light breeze across water. “This world’s anomalous energy has started rubbing off on us.”

“Is that a problem?” Edlyn asked, eyes bright and steady as amber.

“Not at all. Might be good.” He chuckled, mind already turning like gears. “Another power to study for a long while. Shame it likely won’t affect me. This mutation isn’t mine.”

“Want to borrow it for fun?” She blinked, teasing as spring rain.

“I’ll pass.” He shrugged, grin crooked as a fox’s. “I’d probably break the toy.”

“Back to business.” Eli ruffled her hair, fingers light as wind through wheat. “Parent-teacher conferences tomorrow. What’s the plan—same as always?”

“Sure. I’ll attend Anna’s; you take Yale’s.” Edlyn sprawled across him, loose as a cat on a sill.

“Done.” Eli smiled and flashed a covert V sign, sly as a schoolboy.

“Wait… I still think you and our son are lying to me.”

“Uh… okay. The truth, then.”

“I’m listening.”

“You know about Mrs. Bonnie next door.”

“Mm. And?”

“Turns out Yale’s got a big sense of justice.”

“Whoa.”

“He wants to deal with that incident.”

“Didn’t you say we shouldn’t get involved?” Edlyn frowned, worry pooling like dark tea. “And the anomalous beings here are a lot like our world’s Bloodkin—maybe they are the Bloodkin. The Bloodkin’s combat power has always been top-tier. Is this okay?”

“Probably fine.” Eli’s voice was calm as mountains under cloud. “If humans here can coexist with Bloodkin, there’s a reason. We’ve only brushed this world’s anomalous side for a few years; we know little. But right now, it looks like Bloodkin are being pressed hard by humans.”

“Your heart’s too big. You’re not even worried about your son?”

“A fledgling has to leave the nest.” He rubbed her head again, gentle as dusk wind. “If you don’t let him live, he won’t grow.”

“Too much coddling’s not good, Edlyn~”

“Tch. Weren’t you the one who first said they shouldn’t get involved? And you’re lecturing me?”

“All right, all right~”

After the conferences, Yale told Eli the truth.

He’d been a little obsessed with using his ability—mind drifting like a kite—so he got distracted in class. He promised he’d fix it.

Eli didn’t press. He let the boy choose his own road like a river finding its bed.

About a week passed.

Tonight, the moon would be full, round as a silver plate on black silk.

Yale stood by his room door, slung his backpack, and checked his gear, calm as a diver before the plunge.

A dagger about ten inches, a few bandage kits, a walkie-talkie, a flashlight with spare batteries, three glow sticks, a cross, a clove of garlic, and some energy bars—each item laid out like chess pieces on a cold board.

He picked up the walkie-talkie and coughed twice, voice low as night rain. “Hello? Eagle here. Come in, come in.”

Two boys crackled back through the static like moths in glass.

“Lion copies. Lion copies.”

“…Penguin copies.”

Yale smiled, the curve light as a breeze. “Meet at my front door. We move now.”

Five minutes later.

Three boys crouched in Eli’s yard like cats in tall grass. Yale checked his watch, face cool as steel. “Sync time. Ten p.m. sharp.”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

“Mm… yeah.”

“Yale, are we really doing this?” The blond boy hesitated, voice trembling like a plucked string.

“I swear, Eugene, don’t tell me you’re scared.” The redhead grinned, teeth bright as a match strike.

“Shut up, Harry. If not for you, Yale might not be coming.” Eugene shot him a glare sharp as a thorn.

“Tch. I didn’t tell him. He heard it from Winnie.” Harry turned away, disdainful as a cat.

Yale shouldered his pack, steady as a pine in wind. “We decided. You’re curious too. I’ve watched her for a week.”

“Is she really a vampire like in novels?” Harry blurted, eyes glittering. “Or did you get it wrong? Maybe Mrs. Bonnie’s just… mentally ill.”

“We still need proof to get the police involved.” Yale gave him a look, clear as a cold blade.

“Then we’re asking to die…”

“Die my foot. This is an adventure! Adventure!”

“Hope so. God bless, God bless…”

They vaulted the back wall and dropped into Mrs. Bonnie’s yard, bodies falling like shadows.

Weeds ran wild, a waist-high sea hissing in the dark.

They drew their flashlights, white cones cutting the night like knives, searching every corner.

“How about we split up?” Harry blinked, eager as a spark. “I’ll take the yard front and back. Yale, you check the first and second floor. Eugene, you take the third and fourth?”

“I refuse! In horror movies, ‘split up’ means ‘straight to the grave’! That’s suicide!”

Yale and Harry pressed fingers to lips, shushing like wind through reeds. “Shh! Quiet! What are you doing!”

Eugene clapped a hand over his own mouth and crouched, heart thudding like a drum.

Up on the third-floor window, unseen by them, an old face surfaced in the dark like a drowned moon. It stared across the yard, hunting. Then a low growl rippled out, and it vanished like breath on glass.

Goosebumps raced up Eugene’s arms. He grabbed his friends’ sleeves, fingers cold as ice. “D-did you hear that?”

“Hear what? Stop spooking yourself.” Harry’s whisper was thin as paper. “Why’re you so scared?”

“B-but didn’t Yale say there’s a vampire!”

Yale froze, the truth snagging like a hook. He’d only guessed—his dad had said “Bloodkin,” and nothing more.

He didn’t know what Mrs. Bonnie had become.

He eased his tone, a blanket over sparks. “Okay. I was guessing.”

“See?” Harry said, triumphant as a rooster.

Eugene’s face tightened, color draining like tea leaves. “But… something here is really off.”

“Relax already.” Harry tugged him forward, steps light as a fox. “Quit spiraling.”

In Eli’s home, Eli shut his eyes, lashes still as fern fronds. His mental force unfurled like mist at dawn, spreading and spreading until it blanketed the vast neighborhood like a quiet sea, then held.

He’d said he wouldn’t meddle. But there was no way he’d let his son bleed under that moon.