What… happened? My head feels like it’s full of sand. Where… am I?

  Markus wakes in a bed far too comfortable to be his.

  His thoughts come together in slow, groggy pieces… until he notices the breathing machine at his side.

  Panic slams into him. He tries to throw himself out of bed—

  Nothing.

  His body refuses to move, heavy as stone.

  He waits. Breathes. The room is still; no threat moves in the shadows.

  His gaze drifts, tracing the edges of unfamiliar walls, the faint hum of the machine beside him.

  Then—

  “Markus.”

  The voice cuts through the quiet like a ripple in still water.

  His eyes snap toward the sound.

  A TV hangs on the wall across from him, tilted so even someone flat on their back could watch.

  To the left — a sink, a paper towel dispenser.

  To the right — a window, but no ground in sight. Too high up. What floor is this?

  “Markus, thank god you’re up.”

  His eyes slide past the voice, catching on the chairs instead.

  Who would even visit me?

  “Markus, I was so worried about you.”

  A pair of arms wraps around him — tight, desperate, refusing to let go.

  “You’re okay. Everyone else said you’d die, but I never gave up on you.”

  Instinct surges.

  He tears off the wires, forcing his weak body upright, fist coming up before he even understands why.

  Air burns in his lungs. His heart slams against his ribs.

  The words tumble out — shaky, breathless — like the moment has finally dragged him all the way back to life.

  “Markus, it’s okay. It’s okay.” She holds up her hands, palms out, like she’s trying to steady the air between them. “Just breathe. Can you tell me what you remember?”

  “What are you talking about this time? I swear, if this is—”

  “Come on, Markus.” Her voice wavers now. “This isn’t the time to joke. You have to remember something… anything.”

  He blinks at her, the fight draining from his face.

  “What… what happened, Alexia?” His voice is softer, almost careful. “I’ve never seen you this worried before.”

  The words land like a blow. Her breath catches, eyes widening — as if he’s knocked the air from her without touching her.

  “He just woke up. He may need a moment,” a new voice cuts in.

  Markus turns as an unfamiliar man steps inside — tall, crisp white coat, clipboard balanced in one hand.

  “I’ll be honest,” the man says, scanning his notes before looking up. “I wasn’t expecting you to wake at all. But here you are… no scars, breathing on your own—” he pauses, eyes narrowing just slightly, “—somehow.”

  Markus narrows his eyes, sifting through a fog of half-formed memories, trying to place the voice — the face.

  “Oh—sorry.” The man adjusts his grip on the clipboard. “We haven’t officially met while you were conscious. I’m your doctor. Dr. Mike.”

  He glances down at the page, then back at Markus with a measured calm. “I’m here to check your vitals and ask you a few questions. First…” His voice dips just slightly. “…can you think back to that day?”

  He frowns. “That day? What are you talking about?

  “Come on, you have to remember,” Alexia pleads, her fingers tightening around his arm. “The school caught fire. You ran in and—and…” Her voice breaks, the rest tangled in a sharp breath. She blinks rapidly, but the tears still gather.

  Markus reaches out, drawing her into a gentle hug. His palm rests between her shoulder blades, steady and warm.

  “Alexia…” His voice is soft, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything about a fire.”

  Dr. Mike steps forward without a word and places a folded newspaper in Markus’s hands.

  “Your actions caused quite a stir,” he says. “You even made the news.”

  Markus stares at the print, the bold headline blurring before his still-groggy eyes.

  The doctor sighs, his voice losing its brisk edge. “I’m going to be honest… I didn’t think you’d ever wake up.”

  He glances at the clipboard, then back at Markus, his gaze steady. “According to everything we know—medically—you should be dead. Third-degree burns. Severe lung damage from the smoke…” He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “And now? Not a scar. Breathing like nothing ever happened.”

  Markus glances at Alexia.

  She isn’t looking at him — just twisting the edge of her sleeve, her tired smile thin and breakable.

  “So… you’re saying I was—in a coma?” His voice comes out flat, almost mechanical.

  “How long was I out?”

  “It’s been a while since anyone’s come back from something that bad,” Dr. Mike says, flipping through his notes.

  “How long?” Markus presses, sharper this time.

  The doctor hesitates for a second. “About three months.”

  Dr. Mike studies him, clearly waiting for panic, disbelief, anything.

  But Markus stays motionless. Calm. Too calm.

  His gaze doesn’t waver, fixed somewhere past the wall as if the words have pinned him in place.

  “Three months,” he says quietly. “So that makes it… June.”

  “July,” Dr. Mike corrects, his tone careful. The weight of it hangs in the air a moment longer before he clears his throat.

  “I get that you probably want to go outside, but before that, we’ll need to run a few PET scans. Just to make sure there’s no brain damage.”

  “So… Markus, I’ll be waiting for you outside,” Alexia says, pausing with her hand on the doorframe. “But before I go, I want to give you this.”

  She presses something into his palm — a small, triangular stone engraved with a strange symbol he doesn’t recognize: 『魔』. Cool to the touch, but heavier than it looks. No bigger than a plum, yet it drags at his hand like solid iron.

  “It’s called a Mahoishi,” Alexia explains.

  She fishes a second one from her pocket and taps it lightly against his.

  “See? We match. Think of it like a good luck charm.”

  Her grin is quick, bright — almost too bright — before she turns and jogs out of the room.

  “We’ll talk more later!” she calls over her shoulder. “It’s good to be able to say that again.”

  Dr. Mike looks up from his clipboard.

  “You ready to start the scan?”

  Markus nods and swings his legs off the bed. To his surprise, they hold. No trembling. No soreness. Just… strength. Stronger than he remembers.

  They move together down the bright, sterile hallway. The air carries that faint antiseptic sting, and somewhere far off, a monitor beeps in slow, steady intervals.

  Dr. Mike talks as they walk — something about radioactive tracers and mapping cellular activity — but it all blurs into background noise.

  Should’ve paid more attention in science class, Markus thinks, nodding like he understands every word.

  He lies back in the scanner, the low, mechanical hum swallowing the room. A soft click. Then another. The sound of invisible work being done.

  Minutes later, Dr. Mike returns, a fresh printout in hand and a strange, stunned look on his face.

  “Everything’s good to go,” he says slowly. “Actually… it’s better than good. Your results are so clean, it’s almost scary. I’ve never seen anything like this in over ten years of practicing medicine.”

  Markus stares at the sheet — a blur of color-coded graphs, strange cross-section images, and numbers that mean nothing to him.

  “If anything starts to feel off,” Dr. Mike adds, “come back right away. Just to be safe.”

  Markus nods.

  Then, for the first time in three months, he steps outside. Sunlight spills across the hospital steps, sharp and blinding. He lifts a hand to shield his eyes, breathing in the warm air like it’s something rare.

  The brightness stings his eyes, but in a good way. The wind combs through his hair — cool, familiar, like something he used to know but had forgotten how to feel.

  “Heya, Markus!”

  Alexia barrels toward him and leaps into a hug, her arms locking tight around her newly upright friend. For a second, he just stands there, absorbing the solid warmth of her.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Great,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “The doctor has no idea how I healed so fast.”

  Alexia grins, fishing something from her pocket.

  “Yeah… you could say something magical happened.”

  He rolls his eyes but doesn’t press. After everything, maybe a miracle really is the simplest way to see it.

  “If it’s all the same to you,” Markus says, running a hand through his hair, “I’d kill for a cup of coffee. Might clear my head.”

  “Aww, don’t tell me you’re picking that habit back up,” Alexia teases, giving his arm a playful punch. “I remember you said you were buying the next round, so… we doing that now or what?”

  “I know I didn’t say that,” Markus mutters, side-eyeing her with a half-smile as she giggles.

  “Don’t worry,” Alexia says, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Your memory will flood back soon.”

  “Oh—I didn’t bring my wallet,” Markus says, patting his pockets. “Maybe we can swing by my apartment? I probably left it there.”

  Alexia freezes. Not the playful, teasing kind of freeze — but the kind where even the air seems to stop moving. The hum of traffic outside dims into nothing.

  Markus tilts his head. “What?”

  She hesitates, her gaze flicking away. “So… um… Markus…” Her voice trails off, like the words are snagging on something sharp.

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  That alone is enough to make his stomach tighten.

  She finally exhales. “You don’t have the apartment anymore. You were evicted.”

  “What?!” The word bursts out before he can stop it. A sharp breath follows, and he rubs the back of his neck, forcing the edge out of his voice. “Right. Of course. I didn’t pay rent. And I’m guessing I’ve been fired too?”

  Alexia’s expression softens. She steps closer and pats his shoulder, gentle but firm.

  “How about we go get that coffee? We can talk more there. Okay, Markus?”

  Her voice is softer now. “I know it’s a lot. We’ll take it slow.”

  He nods, and they start down the sidewalk toward the nearest Buck-Star.

  Neither speaks. The silence between them isn’t empty — it’s heavy, weighted with all the things neither is ready to say.

  Passing cars fill the air with a low, constant rush, a sound Markus latches onto so he doesn’t have to think too hard. He keeps his eyes forward, letting the city blur by.

  Up ahead, the familiar green-and-white logo glows in the window, spilling soft light across the sidewalk. The rich smell of roasted coffee drifts into the street — warm, familiar, almost enough to fool him into thinking today is just another day.

  Almost.

  Inside, the hum of espresso machines and the soft murmur of conversation wrap around them, a gentle shield from the city outside.

  Alexia steps up to the counter and orders two French lattes — Markus’s old favorite — without looking at him.

  When she hands him the cup, the heat seeps into his palms. She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t have to.

  “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind,” she says softly. “Especially… you know. The whole being-homeless thing.”

  Markus takes the cup and starts chugging the coffee like it’s water. “I remember where the nearest shelter is. I can just go back—”

  “No!”

  Alexia’s palm hits the table, the sharp crack snapping through the café. Heads turn. Conversations pause.

  She doesn’t care.

  “You’re not doing that,” she says firmly, leaning in. “I’ve got an extra room at my place. Aunt Linda already talked to my parents, and they’re fine with it. She handled everything.”

  He blinks, caught off guard. “Are you sure?

  “Yeah. I’m sure.” Her gaze doesn’t waver. “You really think I’d let you sleep in a shelter? Not happening.”

  The eyes of nearby customers still linger on them, and Markus shifts in his seat. He takes a slow sip of coffee, letting the warmth mask the knot in his stomach.

  “Well… thank you,” he mutters. The words feel strange in his mouth, but he leaves them there.

  Alexia’s face lights up. It’s rare for him to accept help without a fight, and from the look on her face, she’s going to savor this victory for a long time. “Don’t worry—things are gonna be fun. Actually, I’ve got something to show you.” She leans in, her voice dipping conspiratorially. “Take out the Mahoishi I gave you.”

  Markus sighs and fishes the small, triangular stone from his pocket, rolling its strange weight in his palm. “Things being ‘fun’ is exactly what worries me when you say it.”

  He holds it up between them. “Oh wow. Matching rocks. I feel so honored.”

  Alexia smirks but doesn’t bite. Instead, she takes his hand in hers, steady and deliberate, and presses his thumb to the center of the Mahoishi’s engraved symbol.

  At first, nothing happens.

  Then the stone gives a single, slow pulse — a faint blue light blooming from its carved symbol.

  Markus flinches.

  A sudden, sharp prick stabs into his thumb. The glow swells brighter.

  “Ow—what the hell?!”

  Before he can think, he yanks his hand back and hurls the Mahoishi across the café. It skitters under a nearby table with a clatter.

  “Alexia! What was that?! The rock stabbed me!”

  Alexia barely blinks. “It needed a blood sample to activate. No big deal.”

  “Oh, sure. A rock just took my blood. Hilarious.” Markus crouches to snatch the Mahoishi from the floor, glaring at her. “Care to tell me what’s actually going on?”

  Alexia’s smirk fades. She covers her mouth and lowers her voice.

  “I’ll explain everything when we get to my place.” Her eyes flick around the café, scanning each table, lingering on anyone who might be paying too much attention.

  “The Mahoishi should be done syncing by then, and… there’ll be fewer people around. This kind of thing? Definitely not for public display.”

  She leans in until her whisper brushes his ear.

  “If Aunt Linda found out I gave you one of these…” A nervous laugh slips out. “She’d kill me. Seriously.”

  The walk back is quiet. Not awkward—just heavy.

  Markus keeps glancing at the Mahoishi in his hand, his fingers turning it over and over like it might suddenly decide to explain itself.

  Alexia walks a step ahead, arms folded tight, eyes fixed on the sidewalk as if the cracks in the pavement have answers.

  Neither of them says much. The hum of traffic fades behind them, giving way to the whisper of wind through the trees and the faint, distant bark of a dog.

  Whatever this thing is—whatever it means—they both know the real conversation hasn’t even started yet.

  “Dada da dada! Welcome to your new home—make yourself comfortable!”

  Alexia rushes to the door and flings it open with a dramatic flourish, one arm stretched out like a game show host unveiling a prize.

  “Home isn’t home unless there’s some broken glass,” Markus mutters. “Can I break a window or two?”

  “I didn’t say make it your home,” Alexia shoots back, bopping him lightly on the nose.

  He chuckles, kicks off his shoes, and steps inside — crossing the threshold into whatever comes next.

  He’s surprised by how soft the carpet feels beneath his feet. Each step lands with a strange certainty — too solid, too stable. It will take time to trust that the floor isn’t going to give out under him.

  The place is spotless. No mold in the corners, no peeling paint, no mouse holes gnawed into the baseboards. Just… clean. The faint scent of laundry soap lingers in the air.

  “This place is really nice,” he says, glancing around. “Are you sure I can stay here?”

  Alexia nods and takes his hand, guiding him down the hall. She stops in front of a closed door and offers him a small, almost shy smile.

  “Now this—this is your room,” she says, swinging the door wide.

  “Surprise!”

  A slim older woman pops a party popper, the sharp crack echoing as a burst of confetti rains through the air.

  Markus blinks, instinctively taking half a step back as bits of colored paper drift onto his shirt.

  “Aunt Linda!” Alexia squeals, her eyes lighting up as she rushes forward and throws her arms around her. “I didn’t know you were visiting!”

  Still hugging her aunt, Alexia twists to call over her shoulder to Markus.

  “Wait—what are you doing in Ohio?”

  “I wanted to get Markus’s room ready for when he woke up,” Aunt Linda says, brushing a bit of confetti from her sweater. “So I furnished the room we agreed would be his.”

  She turns to Markus, her voice warm.

  “I was lucky to pick today of all days, wasn’t I? It’s been too long, Markus.”

  “It couldn’t have been that long,” Markus says. “I remember you being at the homecoming dance.”

  Aunt Linda raises an eyebrow. “Markus… that was over a year ago.”

  Alexia starts to giggle. “You really haven’t let go, have you?” she teases.

  “There’s no way it’s been that long,” Markus mutters, reaching out to playfully cover her mouth—

  Aunt Linda chuckles. “You two haven’t changed a bit.”

  She steps closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.

  “I hope your return to a normal life goes smoothly.”

  Then, almost casually, she slips the Mahoishi from his pocket and turns it toward Alexia.

  “Your father wanted Markus to have this, didn’t he?”

  Alexia doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at her.

  After a long pause, Aunt Linda sighs.

  “There will be people trying to recruit you now that you’re unemployed,” she says to Markus. “Be careful with them. Parasites, most of them. You don’t want to get tangled up in their games.”

  She hands the Mahoishi back, then turns to Alexia.

  “I know you’re mad,” she says gently. “But I’ll make sure the Alien Department stays away from him. I only gave him the stone so my mana healing would work better.”

  “I’m not mad at you,” Aunt Linda replies evenly. “But when I leave… your parents are getting a very long phone call.”

  Aunt Linda just laughs and cups her niece’s cheek before pulling her into a hug.

  She leans in and whispers something into Alexia’s ear — words Markus can’t catch.

  When she pulls back, her voice is soft but carries an edge. “Markus has been through enough. I wasn’t about to let your parents get their claws in him.”

  Alexia nods, and Aunt Linda gives them both a final glance before stepping back.

  “Well, you two are all grown up now. You don’t need your aunt hovering over you anymore.”

  She smiles, pulling them both into a quick hug.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer—I’ve got a business trip. But take care of each other, okay?”

  With that, she heads out, her heels clicking lightly against the floor.

  Alexia turns to Markus with a grin.

  “Come on. Let me show you the rest of the place.”

  She leads him through the house, room by room, pointing things out with casual enthusiasm. Markus follows a step behind, quiet, letting his eyes roam over every detail, still absorbing the fact that this is where he’ll be staying.

  Each space—each soft carpet, each framed photo, each bit of order and warmth—makes it more real.

  This is his new life now.

  And for the first time in a long time… it feels like he might actually have one.

  “Hey… Alexia.”

  He looks down, takes a breath, and exhales slowly.

  “Thank you. For all of this.”

  Alexia doesn’t hesitate. She steps in and hugs him tight.

  “Come on, you’re doing that thing again,” she says with a grin. “Of course you’re welcome here—especially after running into a fire for me.”

  She pulls back just enough to meet his eyes.

  “Please, Markus. Make yourself at home. I’m really glad you’re here.”

  Then, gently, she plucks the strange stone from his hands.

  “Now… come on.” Her eyes gleam with excitement. “Let’s head down to the basement. I’ll show you what the Mahoishi can really do.”

  She pauses at the top of the stairs, glancing back at him.

  “But promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll be our little secret.”

  “Really? Alexia… it’s a rock. You throw it. That’s what rocks do.” Markus squints at the stone now back in his hand.

  “You know, a normal rock. One that stabs you and takes blood. Totally normal.”

  Unfazed, Alexia spins on her heel and heads for the basement.

  “Come on, Markus.”

  “If you say this is cool, fine — but afterward, can we just chill?” he mutters, following her down the creaky steps.

  The basement is mostly empty — concrete floor, bare walls, a single dim bulb swaying overhead. The air smells faintly of dust and old paint.

  Alexia stops in the center of the room and turns toward him.

  “Okay. Put your thumb back on the same spot where it took your blood.”

  She holds up her own Mahoishi, showing him the motion.

  “Like this. Go ahead — turn it on.”

  He takes a deep breath and presses his thumb to the symbol.

  The stone pulses.

  A sudden gust of wind tears around him — no source, no warning. Magic coils through the air like invisible smoke, wrapping around his body.

  Strength floods his limbs. His senses sharpen. He feels faster, heavier… alive.

  Then he looks down.

  From the backs of his hands, two long black whips begin to grow — dark, coiled, leathery — unfurling like serpents from his skin. He runs a hand along one; it’s stiff, durable, like hardened hide.

  “Whoa…” he breathes. He takes a step back and cracks one of the whips against the floor. The sound is sharp, clean, satisfying.

  This power… I could do so much with this. Think of the people I could protect. The kids whose parents would come home safe because of me…

  But then it shifts.

  The energy swells — too fast, too much.

  The rush becomes a roar in his veins.

  He stumbles, dropping to one knee, gasping. His body trembles under the pressure. It’s like the magic is trying to take him with it, control him, use him.

  “Alexia—” he grits out through clenched teeth.

  “It’s too much.”

  Alexia rushes forward and shuts off Markus’s Mahoishi with practiced speed.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice tight. “I completely forgot about mana sickness. You’ve never had magic in your body before — it’s rejecting it.”

  She drops to her knees beside him.

  “We’ll have to build up your tolerance if you ever want to use magic again.”

  Still catching his breath, Markus glares at her.

  “Alexia, what the hell was that?”

  “That was magic,” she says, gentle but firm. “I know it was a lot. But trust me — once you learn how to channel it, it’ll feel incredible.”

  He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay wide, stunned — not just from the pain, but from the sheer force of what he felt. That rush of power… and then the crushing weakness that followed.

  “I get it now,” he murmurs. “Just for a second… I saw what it could be.”

  He glances down at the rune on the Mahoishi, still faintly glowing in his palm.

  “When can we do that again?”

  Alexia’s expression hardens.

  “Not today.”

  She takes the Mahoishi from his hand and places it in a small box.

  “If you really want to practice more, we can tomorrow — but you have to promise you won’t use it again until then. Mana sickness is no joke. It took me years to build up resistance.”

  He reaches for the box, defiant.

  “Surely there’s a way to speed that up—”

  Before he can finish, Alexia slams the box shut.

  “No. You heard what Aunt Linda said. You’re not getting dragged into the family business.”

  He looks up at her, frustration tightening his jaw.

  “I almost lost you in that fire. What was I supposed to do — just let you die?

  Her eyes flash.

  “So now you know how I felt.”

  Alexia shoves Markus back — not hard, just enough to jolt him out of his momentum.

  “You could’ve died,” she says, her voice cracking. “The doctors said you wouldn’t make it. They said—”

  Her words crumble, caught in the lump rising in her throat. A tear slips free, then another.

  Without hesitation, Markus wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.

  “Markus…” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I visited every day while you were in the hospital. I watched them lose hope. I watched you slip away.”

  He holds her tighter.

  “Alexia… it’s okay. If it means that much to you, I won’t touch the Mahoishi again. I promise.”

  He meets her gaze.

  “With you on my side, I know everything’s going to be alright. I’ll wait until you think it’s the right time.”

  Alexia searches his face, tear-streaked and unsure.

  “You really promise?”

  He nods once, steady.

  After a long pause, she reaches for the box and gently places it in his hands.

  “Alright. We’ll practice tomorrow. Together.”

  Then she darts up the stairs, calling back with a smile,

  “Come on, Markus!”

  He watches her disappear up the steps.

  “Coming,” he says softly.

  And for the first time in what feels like forever, he’s not in a rush.

  No job. No homework. Just… peace.

  For the first time in months, Markus lets himself breathe.