A week passed in the blur of sleepless nights and quiet moments of wonder. When the twins were settled one afternoon, Leo retrieved a small wooden box from his belongings.
"What's that?" Marissa asked, looking up from where she sat nursing Annete.
Leo opened the box carefully, revealing a crystal sphere nestled in velvet. It caught the afternoon light, sending prisms dancing across the nursery walls.
"A measuring device," he explained. "For detecting magical affinity."
Marissa's parents, who had come to help with the newborns, exchanged curious glances.
"Is it safe?" Marissa's mother asked, hovering protectively near Alfred's cradle.
"Completely," Leo assured them. "It won't hurt them at all. It merely... senses what's already there."
Leo lifted the crystal, explaining how he did get it for himself through inheritance. "I never thought I'd use it for my own children."
He approached Alfred first, holding the crystal a few inches above the sleeping infant. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the crystal began to emit a soft brown glow.
"Earth," Leo whispered, a smile spreading across his face. "Like his father."
The glow was faint—expected for a newborn—but unmistakable. Marissa's father leaned closer, fascinated.
"What does it mean?" he asked.
"It means he has an affinity for earth magic," Leo explained. "Low level, but it's there."
Next, Leo moved to Annete, who had just finished nursing. As the crystal hovered above her, it glowed a warm orange-red.
"Fire," Leo breathed, surprise evident in his voice. "Medium level, at that."
Marissa gasped softly. "Both of them? They both have magic talent?"
Leo nodded, setting the crystal down.
"Our grandchildren," Marissa's father said, pride evident in his voice. "Future mages."
Leo cradled Annete closer, watching Alfred sleep peacefully. The revelation changed everything—their education, their future, the opportunities they would need.
"They'll need proper training," he murmured. "Both of them."
Leo stood at the window of their modest home, watching Alfred and Annete sleeping in their cribs. At six months old, they were growing fast, their magical affinities already creating subtle differences in their temperaments. Alfred was steady and observant, while Annete was quick to laugh and easily excited.
Riverstone had changed in the months since the twins' birth. What had once been a quiet trading post was now a bustling town with new construction at every turn. Refugees from the Usman conflict continued to arrive, and merchants, sensing opportunity, established permanent shops.
The town's rapid growth brought problems too. Three weeks earlier, a band of twenty raiders had struck at dawn, overwhelming the small contingent of guards at the north gate.
Leo had been walking the twins in the early morning air when he heard the commotion. After rushing Marissa and the babies to safety, he'd confronted the bandits in the market square.
"Leave now," he'd warned them, standing alone against their weapons and sneers.
Their leader, a scarred man with a broadsword, had laughed. "One man against twenty? Step aside, fool."
Leo had simply placed his palm against the ground. The earth rumbled, then split open beneath the bandits' feet. Fifteen of them fell waist-deep into the suddenly liquid soil before it hardened again, trapping them.
The remaining five charged. Leo's eyes narrowed as he cast Earth Shackles, binding their limbs. With a gesture and whispered "Earth Crusher," he pulverized their trapped limbs into bloody pulp.
The screams echoed through the marketplace.
"Anyone else?" Leo had asked the trapped survivors, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent square.
Word spread quickly after that. Riverstone had a protector—a mage of considerable power. The remaining bandits were executed, their heads displayed on pikes at the town entrance as a warning.
No raiders had troubled Riverstone since.
Five years flashed by in a heartbeat. Alfred and Annete raced through Riverstone's cobblestone streets, their laughter echoing between the buildings that had sprung up during their short lives.
"Can't catch me!" Annete called, her blonde hair streaming behind her as she darted around a fruit vendor's cart.
Alfred followed more deliberately, his movements measured yet quick. "Don't need to catch you. Just need to wait."
The vendor, old Mrs. Halder, smiled as they passed. She held out two apples. "For the little mages," she said with a wink.
The children skidded to a stop, eyes bright. They accepted the gifts with practiced courtesy, something their mother had drilled into them.
"Thank you, Mrs. Halder," they chorused.
Everywhere they went, it was the same. The blacksmith slipped them small iron figurines he'd crafted during slow periods. The baker always had a fresh sweet roll when they passed. The town guards stood straighter when the twins approached, offering respectful nods that made Alfred puff out his small chest.
"They're not just being nice because of Father, are they?" Annete asked one evening as Leo supervised their early magical training in the garden behind their home.
Leo paused, considering his daughter's perceptiveness. "Partly," he admitted. "But also because of who you are—what you might become."
"Future mages," Alfred said solemnly, repeating what he'd heard countless times.
The twins' reputation extended beyond mere potential. At four, during the harvest festival, Annete had accidentally set a decorative banner aflame when excited. Rather than causing panic, the townsfolk had applauded her abilities.
When Alfred, at five, had stopped a runaway cart by instinctively raising a small earthen barrier, the mayor himself had visited their home with gifts.
Their childhood unfolded in this peculiar bubble of admiration and expectation. They played in the fields surrounding Riverstone, climbed trees in the nearby woods, and splashed in the river during summer—all while under the watchful eyes of a town that had collectively decided these children were its most precious resource.
"Annete! Alfred!" The butcher's wife called from her doorway. "I've fresh honey cakes if you've time."
The twins exchanged delighted glances. Another day of warmth and indulgence in a childhood blessed by affection from all sides.
"Focus," Leo instructed, his voice gentle but firm. "Alfred, feel the earth beneath you. Annete, feel how the flames dance."
The twins sat in their designated spots in the garden behind their home—Alfred cross-legged directly on the soil, Annete a safe distance from a small, controlled fire pit. Their faces scrunched in concentration as the afternoon sun beat down.
"This is boring," Annete whispered after twenty minutes, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
"Shh," Alfred replied without opening his eyes. "Father will make us start over."
Leo, standing nearby, pretended not to hear. Every day for the past six months since their fifth birthday, this scene repeated itself. Two hours of meditation—no shortcuts, no excuses. Even when it rained, they moved to the covered porch, with Alfred sitting on a box of soil and Annete before the hearth.
Unlike his own rushed, desperate education in magic, Leo was determined his children would build proper foundations. No breathing techniques yet—those would come later. First, they needed to feel their elements. They did not have his talent for magic but he was sure they could reach the mage level with time.
"The earth has patience," Leo explained to Alfred one evening after a particularly frustrating session. "It waits, it endures. Your element teaches you its nature if you listen."
To Annete, he offered different wisdom: "Fire lives in the moment. It changes constantly. Watch how it responds to the slightest breeze."
The twins found different challenges in their practice. Alfred often fell asleep, lulled by the steady presence of earth. Annete struggled to sit still, her natural temperament mirroring her element.
"Why can't we learn spells?" Annete asked one day, watching enviously as Leo demonstrated Earth Wall to reinforce the town's new eastern gate.
"Because magic isn't just about power," Leo answered. "It's about control."
The townspeople observed these daily sessions with respectful distance. Some parents even began similar practices with their own children, hoping to discover hidden affinities.
"Two more minutes," Leo called, checking the position of the sun. "Feel the element. Don't try to control it. Just acknowledge its presence."
The twins sighed in unison but maintained their positions. Despite their complaints, small changes were becoming evident. Alfred could now sense small brown particles around him the surface. Annete could make a candle flame flicker by concentrating because of her better affinity for fire magic.
Small steps on a long path Leo was determined they would walk properly.