The years passed with a rhythm Floyd had never known in his previous life. Mornings began with sword drills under BohLin's sharp eye, followed by arcane lessons with Gabby that left his brain aching and his body... flushed, in more ways than one. The rest of his time he split between devouring books and exploring the lush, walled estate of the Jitters family.
But on the seventh year after his birth into this new world, something changed.
He met her.
—
It started with a simple errand.
"Go fetch the herb pouch from the apothecary near the south stables," his mother, Mareah, had instructed as she stirred a sweet-smelling potion in the kitchen. "Tell them it's for the Jitters household. They'll know."
Floyd, dressed in a fresh tunic and boots, nodded. He was glad for the break—it was his first time allowed beyond the gates alone, even if it was just across the family's vast property.
The estate was more of a stronghold than a house, sprawling across acres of protected land with courtyards, stables, gardens, and secluded training arenas. Magical barriers shimmered faintly in the air like waves of heat, warding off threats and spying eyes.
Floyd made his way along a gravel path lined with rune-carved stones. Flowers bent toward him with magical awareness, petals shifting slightly as if they recognized the young master.
And then, by the stone well near the stables, he saw her.
A girl with silver eyes.
She sat alone, her back resting against the stone ring of the well, legs crossed casually, a small glowing orb of light floating above her upturned palm. Her skin was pale but healthy, almost luminous in the sunlight. She had white hair, short and tousled, like frost spun into strands. Her clothing was simple—a soft tunic and riding pants—but the way she held herself suggested training, purpose, discipline.
And mystery.
Floyd blinked, slowing his steps.
She looked up—and locked eyes with him.
The orb in her hand vanished with a flick of her fingers.
"You're the boy they talk about," she said plainly. Her voice had a sharp clarity to it, like a sword unsheathing.
Floyd approached, cautious but curious. "People talk about me?"
"Word spreads fast among staff and wards." She stood, brushing dust from her pants. She was about his age, perhaps a little older in appearance—ten or eleven, though he knew better than to trust appearances in this world.
"I'm Floyd Jitters," he offered.
"I know. I'm Sophia." Her gaze held him for a beat longer than was comfortable. "I'm training under the house guard. Your father sponsors my lessons."
Floyd tilted his head. "You're not nobility?"
"No," she said simply. "I'm a ward of the estate. Orphaned from the Southern pass."
He didn't know what to say to that, but Sophia didn't seem to mind. She gestured toward the stables. "You were running an errand?"
"Yeah. Herb pouch. South stables."
"I'll take you."
—
As they walked, Floyd found her presence... grounding. She didn't hover or fawn over him like the maids sometimes did. She didn't try to impress him like some of the estate's younger recruits. Instead, she talked about swords, patrol rotations, and how the apothecary kept her awake at night with smelly smoke.
"You're different from the others," she said as they entered the cool shade of the stable building.
"I get that a lot," Floyd replied.
She glanced at him sidelong. "You don't act like a child."
He laughed nervously. "And you don't act like a servant."
"Because I'm not one. Not really." Her tone held a strange pride. "I'll be a warrior. A commander. Maybe even a sect leader one day."
Floyd felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. "I like that."
Sophia stopped near the stable doors. "Most nobles don't."
"I'm not most nobles."
She smiled. Just barely.
They reached the apothecary window, and Sophia knocked once with a practiced rhythm. An old man with a crooked nose and glowing hands handed over a small, rune-wrapped pouch.
"Tell your mother it's potent," he warned. "Freshly crushed."
Floyd nodded. "Thanks."
They turned to leave, but not before Sophia bumped her shoulder into his lightly.
"You fight?" she asked, voice lower now, more curious than sharp.
"I'm learning."
"Good. One day, we'll spar."
"I look forward to it."
She raised a silver brow. "You shouldn't."
—
That evening, Floyd sat at his window, the stars glittering above.
There was something about Sophia. Something rare.
She had no magic—at least none that flared visibly—but she burned with willpower. She reminded him of someone from his old life. Maybe even the person he wanted to be.
He smiled as he leaned back against the frame.
He'd found a friend.
And something told him their paths were meant to cross again and again—through battles, trials, and maybe more.
The wind carried the scent of herbs and training oil, and somewhere beyond the walls of the estate, a magic beast howled into the night.
But Floyd wasn't afraid.
Not anymore.
He was home.
—