The attic’s air hung thick with the scent of aged parchment and pine resin. Dust motes spiraled in the slanted sunlight as Liam pried open the rusted chest, its hinges shrieking protest. Inside lay a tome bound in leather so black it seemed to swallow the light, its title embossed in gilded letters that prickled his skin: The Foundations of Magic.

  Flipping the pages, Liam’s breath hitched. Diagrams of mana channels overlapped with equations eerily similar to quantum physics formulas from his past life. A marginal note in crisp English read: “Mana decay follows inverse-square law—adjust resonance frequencies accordingly.”

  This isn’t just a grimoire. It’s a hybrid—magic systematized through science.

  “Liam! Supper!” Lilia’s voice echoed up the stairs.

  He tucked the book under his tunic, its weight a secret against his ribs. At the hearthside, Mara ladled venison stew into clay bowls while Elric sharpened his scythe. Liam hesitated, then slid the book onto the table.

  “Found this in Grandfather’s chest. Do you know what it is?”

  Elric’s whetstone stilled. “Where’d you—? That’s been sealed since Papa’s last visit.”

  “But what is it?”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Mara traced the embossed title. “Your grandfather left it years ago. Said it was ‘for the curious.’ We tried deciphering it, but the script…” She frowned. “You understand it, don’t you?”

  Liam’s pulse thrummed. “It’s about magic. Advanced techniques, theories—things even you don’t know, Mama.”

  Elric’s chair scraped as he stood. “Best return it. Papa’s treasures aren’t for meddling.”

  “Wait.” Lilia snatched the book, amber eyes gleaming. “If it’s got battle runes, I want in.”

  “It’s not just runes.” Liam flipped to a diagram of intersecting ley lines. “This shows how to amplify healing spells using geothermal vents. Mama, you could cure the wasting fever!”

  Mara’s resolve wavered. “Your grandfather… He visited six years ago, after Lilia’s pyre incident. Gave me a salve that erased her scars.”

  Elric crossed his arms. “Papa’s always been… peculiar. When I left the capital for my fifteen-year exile, he handed me a compass that pointed away from danger. Saved me from bandits twice.”

  “Exile?” Liam seized the thread. “You never told me about the family traditions.”

  Elric sighed. “Our bloodline’s old—older than the Archipelago Kingdoms. Heirs prove their worth by surviving fifteen years abroad. Succeed, and you inherit a title one rank below your sire’s. Fail…” He mimicked an explosion.

  “Grandfather’s an archduke,” Liam pressed. “What’s that mean for us?”

  “Means he’s knee-deep in capital politics,” Lilia snorted. “Seven wives, twelve kids, and a palace that makes the Holy Grove look like a privy.”

  Mara shot her a warning look. “He visits every six years. Next moon, actually.”

  Liam’s mind raced. The book’s author was reincarnated—maybe Grandfather? Why else hide this here?

  “Can I meet him?”

  Elric’s beard twitched. “He’ll want to test you. Papa doesn’t coddle heirs.”

  “I’ll prepare.” Liam clutched the grimoire. “This book—it’s the key, isn’t it? To everything.”