(Jason, 5)

"Papa Harold!" I wave as Papa Harold's wagon approaches the house. He has someone else with him. Papa Harold never comes with someone else! He looks old, but not as old as all of my papas and mamas. "Papa Harold!"

"Hey, Jason!" Papa Harold waves back.

"Did you get me anything?" I ask, and he laughs. "Papa Harold! Did you get me anything?"

"Always," he laughs again as he stops his horses in front of the house. "What are you doing out here? Where's Papa Samuel?"

"Looking for me?" I'm in trouble, aren't I?

"What are you supposed to be doing right now?" He asks.

"Cleaning his room," Papa Samuel picks me up from behind and slings me over his shoulder. "Welcome back, Harold."

"Papaaaa!" I whine. "Lemme go! Papa Harold's got presents!"

"Mama Elena told you to clean your room," Papa Samuel tells me.

"It is clean!"

"Your toys are on the ground."

"Just one!" I protest. "I'm gonna play with it again later! Lemme go, I wanna see Papa Harold's presents!"

"Inside," Papa Samuel carries me inside. "Let Papa Harold put the horses in the barn, Jason."

Papa Samuel sets me down, then looks at Mama Elena, who's making a potion.

"Eek!" I exclaim. "The Mad Witch!"

"Stop calling me that!" Mama Elena exclaims, and I giggle and hide behind Papa Samuel. "Jason, if you don't stop calling me that, I'm going to have Papa Michael drill you in martial arts for a week."

Papa Michael taught me martial arts! He didn't start until I turned five, which was three months ago! He said that they can't push me too hard, or it would stunt my growth, but then he made me practice all day! That was no fun!

Mama Elizabeth's cookies were delicious, though, and I got them for putting up with him all day! So that was nice!

"Nooo!" I exclaim. "Anything but that! Papa Michael's a slave driver!"

"Where did you ever hear that term?" Papa Samuel asks as he picks me up and sets me on the couch.

"Hm…" I think. "I dunno?"

I remember hearing it, but I don't remember meeting the person I heard it from. Or being in that place. I do remember the place, just not being there. That happens sometimes, so I probably dreamed it. Papa Samuel said that dreams can be special, so that's probably what it is. I have special dreams!

Papa Harold enters with his friend, along with a large box. The box has my present in it!

"Look at how excited he is," the friend chuckles. "Hello, Jason, I'm Zachary."

"Papa Zachary?" I ask.

I have lots of papas! Four of them! And three mamas!

"No," he chuckles again. "But if you want to call me 'Uncle Zachary', I won't protest."

"Okay!" I say. "Hi, Uncle Zachary! Did you bring me a present, too?"

That makes my papas and mama laugh, and Papa Harold sets the chest down, before opening it and pulling something out. It's a cloth pouch. He sets the pouch on the coffee table, and I do my best to not try to open it to see what's inside. If I do, then Papa Harold won't let me have my present yet. I'll have to wait longer.

Then, Papa Harold sets down a thin cushion. Oooh! A test! Not a present, a test! If I best the test, I'll get sweets! Papa Harold pours out the items in the pouch. Gems!

"Can you identify these?" He asks.

"Lemme try!" I hop off the couch and sit in front of the table, then start inspecting one of the red ones. "This is a ruby!"

"Good job," he says, and I carefully set it to the side, then start inspecting the next one.

"Sapphire!"

I'm right for that one, and the garnet, and the diamond, and the other ruby, but there's a green one that stumps me.

"Sapphire?" I guess when I can't figure it out.

"Emerald," he pats my head. "You did good, Jason. Try to not guess sapphire for everything you don't remember."

"Okay!" I give him a hug. "Where's my present?"

Everyone laughs again, and Mama Alyssa and Papa Jared enter the house from the back door. They probably finished expanding the woodshed. Papa Michael and I chopped lots of it! Too much to fit into the old woodshed!

Mama Elizabeth thought it was funny, while Mama Elena told us to not do that again.

Papa Harold walks back to his chest as Samuel greets Mama Alyssa and Papa Jared, then Papa Harold gives me a stuffed wolf.

"It's made of," he tells me. "Lenel cotton, giving it an extra softness factor, and was stuffed with the same. Its eyes are made of everlast pine polished with lacquer to make them dark, with some ink for the irises. It runs for around one hundred varru on the market."

"Cool!" I hold the soft stuffie against my chest, then remember something. "Oh! The Mad Witch helped me make a potion!"

I run to the kitchen and climb up onto a stool, then grab the potion off the counter and carefully walk over to Papa Harold to show it to him.

"Look!" I say. "A stamina potion! Mama Elena said it'll restore stamina!"

"You got him to sit still long enough to make a potion?" Papa Harold asks Mama Elena.

"No," Mama Elena responded. "He was constantly moving."

"Hehe," I giggle. "I can't help it!"

"May I?" Papa Harold asks, and I give him the bottle. He opens it and sniffs the potion, inspecting the color, before capping it again. "This is a decent-quality potion, Jason. I'd say it might run for two hundred varru on the market."

"Cool!" I say. "Are you going to sell it with the rest of Mama Elena's potions?"

"I sure will," he pats my head. "If Mama Elena's okay with it."

"It's his creation," she says. "It took him six tries to make it right, so he's rather proud of it."

"Really?" Papa Harold looks at me, and I nod. "Good job, Jason! Why don't you go clean up your room? And don't forget the dirty clothes you hid in your toy chest."

"And you called me the Mad Witch again!" Mama Elena says as I take off to the stairs. "Michael, drill him for the next week."

"Nooooo!"

I run upstairs and properly clean my room. I even make my bed and take my clothes out back to wash them. If I do all this, maybe Mama Elena won't make Papa Michael train me for a week! He's a real slave driver, and makes me really exhausted with his training! I don't like that!

Outside, I roll up my sleeves, then get to work. Mama Elizabeth lets me help her sometimes, so I know what to do! I just have to be careful not to get soap and suds everywhere, like last time.

She doesn't like it when Papa Samuel tries helping with laundry. He just uses magic. Cleaning water! Super dry! Done! Just like that! Takes him maybe a minute to do a whole basket! I bet he could even clean someone's clothes while they're being worn!

I wish I could do magic, but no one will teach me. Maybe I should ask, instead of wait! But they always tell me to be patient and let them teach me when they feel I'm ready. But I'm ready now! I wanna be able to shape chairs out of stone and make water out of nothing!

"Hm," I look at the empty washing bucket, then at the pump to draw water out of. Mama Elizabeth makes water herself, but they still have the pump for if they don't feel like using magic to make water. Plus, it helps me, since I can't make water. "Yet!"

Holding my hands over the bucket, I give it a try. It's obviously easy, they're all old and can do it! If old people can do magic like that, then I can, too! It's really simple, too, just water!

"Abracadabra," I say as I form the magic in my mind. That's what Mama Elena says is how magic is used. They never use incantations, but I have a memory of spells being used to make magic happen. They're probably past the beginner stage, incantations are probably used for beginners like me. How did it work again? What was the way they shaped their energies to make the magic? "Fill with water oh so clear, I've got laundry to wash here! Alakazam!"

I feel a tug in me, and suddenly, the washing bucket fills with water as the spell works!

"Awesome!" I look around. "Where's the soap?"

(Harold, 70)

When I check on Jason, he's sleeping peacefully on his bed, his legs splayed out, the stuffed wolf tucked under one arm, his other hand sticking out to the side. He's wearing his nightshirt, the blanket already kicked off of him.

Bending down, I kiss his forehead, then tuck him back in. Jason can be so hyper at times, it's a refreshing change from the life we had before the seven of us moved out here. With Jason back under his covers, I make my way downstairs, where Elizabeth is serving tea and an evening snack to everyone.

"So," Zachary says. "You didn't mention that your adoptive son could use magic, Harold."

"I wasn't aware," I look at Samuel. "When I left a couple of weeks ago, we were still under agreement to not teach Jason magic until he was thirteen."

Jason cast the spell, likely unaware we were watching him. Elizabeth and Jared enchanted our windows so that we can see out from inside, but no one can see in from outside. We noticed him slipping out the upstairs window and decided to check out what he was doing, only to find him casting that unusual spell.

"Do you really think I'd teach him to perform such a ridiculous incantation?" Samuel asks. "Jason must have figured out how to use magic on his own. He knows the pure basics of it – visualizing the spell and shaping mana into it – all he was missing was the experience of it and being taught it properly. The boy sees us use magic almost daily, it's no surprise he decided to give it a try. I'll have to talk with him about the incantations, though."

Usually, only a beginner magician would use one as a means of helping them visualize what the spell is intended for. Once they acquire more experience, they can either shorten them or even stop using them entirely.

Jason's incantation was definitely the boy saying the first thing that came to mind, and had nothing to do with actually visualizing the spell.

"What were those strange words he said at the start and end?" Alyssa asks. "Ab-ra-ca-da-bra and al-a-ka-zam? Is that how they were said?"

"Yes," Samuel nods. "I've yet to hear of such words before, so he likely made them up on the spot."

"That would not be the first time," Elena laughs. "Our boy is an energetic little bundle, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," Zachary smiles. "It seems I have kept from visiting for too long, and I apologize for that. Such is life, however. Harold has told me how you came across the boy, Samuel. Were you unable to identify the parents?"

"I was," Samuel nods. "We believe he came from a village that had been raided by ogres, as I found him only half a day's journey by carriage, if moving fast, from one. A small village in the neutral zone between here and Aldira. I attempted to locate any potential family, but no one had ties to that village, and no one else in the area knew of a couple with child."

"Well," Zachary says. "He seems excited enough to have all of you as parents. What is it like, to find yourself unexpectedly with a child at your age?"

"He has definitely livened up our lives," Jared smiles. "Just yesterday, he was attempting to help me make a piece of jewelry, a necklace for Harold to sell in his next run to town. The piece came out poor quality as a result, but he was proud of his help. He says that when he's bigger, he'll help me make weapons as well."

"Perhaps he can help now," Zachary smiles. "If you start teaching him magic, he can help you smelt the ores and temper the blades."

"Maybe we'll wait on that," Jared chuckles. "I don't think he has the attention span needed for that yet. How are things in Varil?"

"Peaceful," Zachary answers. "I even have a son and daughter, now."

"Really?" I ask. "You didn't mention them on the trip."

"I wanted to wait until I had all of you together," Zachary smiles. "They're Jason's age, though they likely won't be coming out here to meet him anytime soon. I might trust the seven of you and the journey, but their mother definitely won't."

It takes four days of traveling through the forest to reach us, and that's if one is traveling by carriage or horseback and knows where we are. After this forest, there's nothing but mountains, cliffs, and more forest. A couple of valleys, but not many. No civilization at all, surprisingly.

The journey to us is part of why Zachary can rarely visit – unlike us, most people have work to take care of. The goods we produce and sell are mostly to keep us occupied, though raising Jason has taken over a lot of that time. He's much too energetic at times. Another reason we sell the goods is because we rarely spend money, as we're able to live off the forest and the areas past civilization. Varil benefits from us taking a small amount of their money and putting it away, only sometimes returning it to them. The value of the Varil currency, the varru, stabilized once we began this a few decades ago.

"I take it Jason now lives in the room I used to sleep in when I visited?" Zachary asks.

"No," Alyssa answers. "Michael and I expanded the upstairs, it now covers part of our woodshed. The additional room there is Jason's."

"I should warn you, though," Samuel chuckles. "Jason does explore the entire house, so don't be surprised if you find one of his toys in a spot we missed."

(Jason, 5)

Yes! Papa Samuel's teaching me magic! I don't know why they decided not to wait until I was older, though, but cool! I can learn magic now!

"Okay, Jason," Papa Samuel says. "Do you know what the types of magic are?"

"Yes!" I answer.

"What are they?" He asks.

"Fire, water, earth, air, light, darkness, energy, force, mind, holy, curse, and special!"

"Okay," he smiles. "Now, I know you can use water magic, as we saw you fill the washing bucket last night-" oooh! So that's why! He knows! Oops! "But have you tried the others?"

"No," I shake my head. "I needed water, so I made some!"

"Okay," he smiles. "Now, Jason, you don't need to perform an incantation when you use a spell. We know you were just saying the first thing that came to mind yesterday."

"Hehe!"

"So," he sets a cup in front of me. "Fill this with water."

"Okay!" I hold my hands up and focus on the cup as I shape my mana the way they do. "Abra-"

"Without an incantation."

"Okay!" I finish the spell, and water fills the cup. That's awesome! I'm not a beginner anymore! "There! I did it, Papa Samuel!"

"Yes, you did," he smiles. "Now create a breeze."

I haven't seen them do that before, but he thinks I can do it, so I can! I hold out my hands and imagine a wind pushing out and hitting Papa Samuel, and shape my mana to make it happen, and it does! The wind hits Papa Samuel in the chest, and he stares at me for a few moments, then starts laughing!

"Good job!" He sets a candle on the table. "Light this, could you?"

"Yes, Papa Samuel!" I hold my hands by the wick. "Hey! I made this one!"

"Yes, you did," he pats me on the head. "And now, you get to light it."

"Cool!" I imagine the candle lighting, and after shaping my mana into the spell, I make it happen! "I did it!"

"Yes, you did," he chuckles. "Now make a rock."

I hold my hands together and think about rocks, and when I shape my mana into the spell, it happens!

"Good job," he smiles. "You can do the four basic elements just fine, Jason. We'll wait on the others for now and focus on these."

"Okay, Papa Samuel!"

"Now," he says. "Do you know the difference between magical power and mana?"

"Um," I think about it. "Mana is the energy that flows everywhere, and everyone has it in different amounts. You have lots of it, almost three times as much as the Mad Witch! Only twice as much as Mama Elizabeth. We use it to shape our spells and make magic and enchantments!"

"We've never mentioned the differences in our mana to you," Papa Samuel asks. "Can you see mana?"

"Yeah!" I nod. "Why? Is that weird?"

"All of your papas and mamas can," he smiles. "I was just surprised you could tell I had twice as much as Mama Elizabeth and three times as much as Mama Elena, you're a very smart young boy to be able to do that."

"I'm very smart," I nod.

"Yes, you are," his smile grows wider. "So what's magical power, then?"

"Magical power determines how strong your spell is," I say. "You need the mana to cast the spell, and the magical power to make it work. If your magic is too weak, the spell won't work, even if you can use the mana. I read that in your books. They said that magical power is tied directly to your mana, too."

"You were reading my books?" He asks.

"Yeah," I shift a little. "Was that bad? They were interesting!"

"Are you reading one right now?" He asks, and I nod. "Go get it?"

I run up to my room and open up the bottom drawer of my dresser. I move a few of my pants and grab the big book, then carefully make my way downstairs. It's heavy, so it's hard to carry. I set it on the table, and Papa Samuel looks at it.

"You can read this?" He asks.

"Yeah!" I nod. "I don't know all the words, but it's good!"

"Where are you at?" He asks. "The bookmark?" I nod. "Read me a few lines of it."

"Okay!" I open up the book, then go to the start of the chapter I have marked. I'm not going to start reading to Papa Samuel from the middle, that's silly. "'Christopher kissed Esmeralda as he lay her on his bed, his fingers working the straps of her dress-'"

"No, no, stop!" Papa Samuel interrupts me.

"Papa Samuel!" I say. "No interrupting when someone is reading a story!"

"Not that story!" Why is Papa Samuel's face red? "I forgot about that part of the story. You can't read that anymore, Jason."

"Why not?" I ask. "It's just sex."

"Just-just sex?" He asks. "What do you know about sex?"

"Mama Elena and Papa Harold do it every night when Papa Harold is home," I tell him. "They use lube she makes, because she's too old and dry, and-"

"Stop!" He interrupts me. "No more talking about sex until you're older, Jason."

"Why not?" I ask. "It's in most of the books I've read."

"We are going to limit your access to the library," he tells me.

"But Papa Samuel," I say. "I've already read a lot of them! Ten whole books! I'm a big boy, I can read!"

"Yes, you can," he smiles. "And now that I know that, I'm going to teach you how to write, too. I think I'll have Papa Harold help when he's home, and Mama Elizabeth, too. Let's return to your magic lesson."

"You don't want me to finish reading the chapter for you?" I ask.

"No," he closes the book and moves it to his side of the table. "From now on, ask us before borrowing a book from the library, Jason."

Papa Samuel's being silly.

"Now," he says. "One way to increase your magical power is to practice exerting it every day. What I want you to do is gather your magic like this."

He holds his hands in front of him, and the air starts looking funny, before a violet glow-type mist-thingy fills the air between his hands and around them and his forearms. That looks so cool! And I can feel his magic doing that, too!

"Okay!"

I hold my hands out and focus my magical power, then do what he says, filling the air with my mana and magic. I manage to make a purple thingy, too, only I make it bigger and stronger than Papa Samuel's because he's being silly!

"That-that is good," he tells me. "Hold it for as long as you can, okay?"

"Yes, Papa Samuel!"

I have to stop fast, but Papa Samuel looks happy, so I did good! I think?

"You'll do that three times a day," he says. "Every day from now on, okay?"

"Do I have to?"

"If you want cookies, you will."

"Okay!"

"When you've recovered your mana," he says. "Do it again."

I do as Papa Samuel says. After the third time, Papa Harold comes to me.

"Since I'm selling something you made," he tells me. "I'm going to buy it from you, then sell it to the market."

"Why?" I ask. "Mama Elena doesn't sell them to you."

"We split earnings between us," he tells me. "But we aren't going to do that to you. Once you have a little bit of money earned from selling things to me for me to sell on the market, you'll have to start buying ingredients for potions and the things you need for crafting from us. This way, you can have your own money, learn to use it, and be responsible."

"I'm responsible!"

"I know," he smiles. "And this will teach you how to be even more responsible, okay?"

"Okay!" I say.

"So," he says. "I'd like to buy the stamina potion from you for one hundred and sixty varru."

"You said it's worth two hundred!"

"I said I could sell it for that on the market," he tells me. "But a merchant has to make a profit, too. We have to feed our horses, repair our wagons, eat, sleep, and so on, so we need to make extra money. If I bought it from you at two hundred varru, then sold it for two hundred varru, I would make nothing off of it, only you."

"But it's mine!" I say.

"Yes," he nods. "Think of it like a payment to me for selling it for you. I know what to do and where to go to sell it, and can negotiate with others on your behalf. Selling it to me for one hundred and sixty varru so I can sell it for two hundred varru would be the same as me selling it for two hundred varru, giving that money to you, then you giving me forty varru as payment for doing the selling for you."

"Oh," I say. "Okay! So you sell it for one-fourth as much? And that's your fee for selling it?"

"Yes," he nods. "Though it isn't always like that, that's what I do."

"Okay!"

"You knew it was one-fourth?" He asks. "You're already doing math?"

"Mama Elena," I tell him. "Uses it lots in her potions! One hundred and sixty is sixteen and zero. Two hundred is twenty and zero. Sixteen is four fours, while twenty is five fours! That's one four more than sixteen, which is four, so it's one-fourth more! One four of twenty is one of five fours, so that's one-fifth!"

"Good job," Papa Harold smiles. "Mama Elena is teaching you well."

"Thanks!"

(Samuel, 69)

"He picked up on the price difference fast," Harold tells me once we hand Jason off to Michael from some martial arts training. "And seemed to understand that merchants sell them for higher than they were bought for."

"Yes," I nod. "Jason is quite smart for his age. He's also learned to read just from the few stories we've read to him to help him to sleep."

Most of the stories we tell him, we don't need to read to know. Some are ancient children's tales that most know by heart, while others are stories we lived through.

"He's not an expert or anything," I tap the thick tome. "But he's more than three-quarters of the way through Imaerua, and has already gotten through two separate sex scenes. I'm going to have to talk to Alyssa and see about enchanting sound-proofing onto his room, he can apparently hear you and Elena, and our walls aren't that thin."

Harold sighs.

"Our boy is a bit too intelligent for his age," he comments. "At least in some regards. He's already picked up fractions."

"He can only do halves, quarters, and fifths," I chuckle. "Anything else messes him up."

"Most five-year-olds can't do addition and multiplication as high as him," Harold points out.

"Maybe," I shrug. "But we aren't exactly treating him like a little kid in some areas. None of us ever had any of our own, and are doing things as they come. For an intelligent child, that's enough to pick things up. Zachary and I are going down to the lake to do some fishing. Would you like to join us?"