Eugene sat at a heavy wooden table in the Hearth, arms crossed, his head resting against the back of the chair as Krungus paced in front of the flickering fireplace. The old wizard's red-lensed glasses reflected the firelight as he gestured animatedly with his hands, his long white robes swishing with each movement. The Hearth smelled of charred wood and old parchment, a scent Eugene was beginning to associate with the odd, cozy space that had somehow become a second home.

  "Right, listen closely, because I am about to impart wisdom that will fundamentally reshape your understanding of magic!" Krungus announced, his voice grandiose. "There are wizards, warlocks, sorcerers, witches, mages, and druids, each distinct in the way they wield magic!"

  Eugene let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing against him. He'd been looking forward to this lesson—any time he got a better grasp of how magic worked in this world, it felt like progress. But his mind kept drifting, lingering on a quiet sense of detachment he couldn’t shake. He felt present, yet removed, like he was watching everything from a few feet outside of himself.

  Krungus, oblivious to Eugene’s introspection, continued. "Now! Wizards, like myself, are scholars of magic. We study, experiment, and refine our craft through rigorous discipline. A wizard is defined by preparation. We amass knowledge and, through careful calculation, bend reality to our will."

  "Like scientists," Eugene muttered.

  Krungus blinked. "Scientists?"

  "Yeah, like Newton, Einstein, Marie Curie. People who study stuff and push the boundaries of human knowledge," Eugene explained. "They don’t just wake up knowing things—they experiment and learn."

  Qlaark, perched on a stool nearby, fluffed his feathers. "What’s an Einstein? A kind of sorcerer?"

  Eugene groaned and rubbed his temples. "Never mind."

  Krungus pointed a dramatic finger at him. "And then there are warlocks, such as yourself! Unlike wizards, warlocks take shortcuts. They form pacts with powerful entities—Jennies, in your case—gaining magic in exchange for servitude, loyalty, or something far more intangible."

  "Like making a deal with the devil," Eugene said absently.

  Qlaark frowned. "A devil? You’re bonded to one?"

  "No, no, it’s a—ugh, it’s just an expression," Eugene said. "It’s like in stories where someone gets magic or power by making a deal with something beyond them. Like in, uh… The Little Mermaid?"

  Krungus stroked his beard. "A mermaid gives people magic on your world? Fascinating."

  Eugene sighed. "No, she gives up her voice for legs. It’s just—look, keep going."

  Krungus nodded. "Then we have sorcerers. Unlike wizards, who study, or warlocks, who bargain, sorcerers are born with their magic. It runs in their blood, tied to ancient lineage or some grand cosmic force."

  Eugene sat up. "Okay, that’s like mutants from X-Men. Born different, got powers because of genetics."

  Krungus narrowed his eyes. "X-Men?"

  "Comic book superheroes. Genetic mutations give them powers. Sorcerers sound a lot like that."

  Qlaark’s beak clicked in confusion. "So your world is filled with these ‘superheroes’?"

  "No, it’s fiction!" Eugene groaned. "Never mind! What’s next?"

  Krungus huffed. "Witches. Ah, now this is where things get tricky. Witches straddle the line between wizard and sorcerer, practicing folk magic, often with a more instinctual or ritual-based approach. They work with the natural flow of magic rather than forcing it."

  Eugene nodded slowly. "Alright, so witches are kind of like… herbalists? Or maybe Wiccans? People who use nature-based practices to manipulate outcomes?"

  Krungus threw up his hands. "I have no reference for what you’re saying! But if it helps you understand, sure!"

  Qlaark smirked. "Your world sounds unnecessarily complicated."

  Eugene crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, at least we have television."

  "You have what?"

  "Never mind. Keep going."

  Krungus took a deep breath. "Mages are a broader category. A mage can be a wizard, a warlock, or even a sorcerer. It’s an umbrella term for anyone who wields magic."

  "So, like how ‘scientist’ can mean physicist, chemist, or biologist?"

  Krungus blinked. "…Yes, assuming those are sub-disciplines of science. That is an apt comparison."

  Eugene gave a thumbs-up. "Progress."

  Krungus rolled his eyes. "Lastly, druids. Unlike all the rest, druids draw their magic from the natural world. They channel the raw power of nature itself—earth, wind, fire, water, life. A druid does not study magic, nor do they make bargains. They simply are magic."

  Eugene thought for a second. "So, they’re like environmentalists?"

  Krungus threw up his hands. "I give up."

  Qlaark laughed, ruffling his feathers. "I must admit, Eugene, I enjoy watching Krungus become more frustrated than usual."

  Eugene smirked, but as the moment settled, so did a familiar weight. The Hearth was warm, the fire crackling, the conversation lively—yet something in him still felt distant, like a thread stretched too thin between two worlds. He wanted to laugh more, to stay present, but his thoughts kept drifting, unsettled and unmoored.

  Krungus exhaled heavily. "Well, now that I have filled your head with wisdom, let us eat. I trust you won’t confuse a communal meal with whatever strange Earth ritual you have?"

  Eugene’s smile flickered. "Yeah… let’s eat." As he reached for the nearest dish, he let the warmth of the Hearth sink in, pushing away the distance he felt, at least for now.

  The Hearth Behind the Stars was warm and alive with the clatter of emptied plates and the last murmurs of a satisfying meal. Eugene leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead as Krungus, ever tireless, was already flipping through the pages of his levitating tome. The wizard’s gold-rimmed glasses caught the firelight, his quill scratching notes at an alarming speed, his lips moving slightly as he muttered calculations under his breath. The scent of burnt parchment and ozone lingered in the air from earlier spellwork, a reminder that even within the Hearth, magic was a living, shifting thing.

  Qlaark, meanwhile, was already on his feet, bouncing slightly on his heels with uncontainable energy. "Alright, enough digesting! Let’s see what explodes first."

  Eugene chuckled, shaking his head. "Can we not use the word 'explode' when we're testing how magic messes with my body?"

  Cozimia, draped lazily over an ornate chaise, swirled the contents of her crystalline glass with languid amusement. "Oh, but darling, you must admit, there’s a certain excitement in the unknown. Watching you fumble around with power is endlessly entertaining."

  Hazel Fortuna sat nearby, shuffling her deck of cards with one hand, her gaze half-lidded but keen. "Something tells me this is going to be... eventful. If I were a betting woman—which, of course, I am—I’d say we see some accidental furniture destruction in the next ten minutes."

  Krungus snapped his tome shut with a resolute clap, sending a tiny pulse of magic through the air. "We are wizards, Eugene. Even if you are a warlock, you will conduct yourself like a professional. We will follow a strict methodology to measure this amplification effect. We will be meticulous. We will—"

  "Or we can just throw magic at the walls and see what bounces!" Qlaark interjected with a grin.

  Krungus let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing his temples. "I sometimes wonder why I bother."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Eugene smirked. "Because deep down, you love this chaos."

  Krungus glared over the rim of his glasses but said nothing. He merely turned on his heel and gestured toward the open space in the Hearth. "Right then, let's begin. And no one is throwing anything until I say so."

  With a flick of his wrist, Krungus began setting up a series of protective spells around the room—shimmering wards flickered into existence, geometric patterns hanging in the air like suspended glass. The air hummed with magic as layers of defensive barriers settled over them. They interlocked like puzzle pieces, each inscribed with ancient sigils designed to absorb or redirect magical energy should something go wrong.

  From a small bag at his waist, Krungus pulled out several neatly rolled scrolls and waved them at Eugene. "These, my dear warlock, are contingency spells. Each one can rewind time about six seconds, should something… untoward occur."

  Eugene raised an eyebrow. "Six seconds? That’s pretty specific."

  "Any longer and it becomes unstable," Krungus said with an approving nod, tucking the scrolls into his belt within easy reach. "Now then—go crazy."

  Eugene cast Hospitable Rebuke, intending for it to gently push Qlaark back.

  Eugene expected the spell to create a gentle push, like a guiding hand.

  Instead, Qlaark was violently launched into a bookshelf, knocking over three floating candles and sending a jar of glowing jellybeans scattering across the floor. The bookshelf itself shuddered under the impact, its magical enchantments flickering as if trying to decide whether to resist the force or simply collapse entirely.

  Qlaark, grinning from the pile of books, gave a thumbs-up. Despite the numerous defensive barriers he had cast upon himself, he still felt the impact. "That was awesome!"

  Krungus flipped through his notes, his quill scratching furiously. "Fascinating. Clearly, the Hearth is increasing force outputs by an uncalculated magnitude. Eugene, repeat the spell—but with restraint this time."

  Eugene tried again. Qlaark flew into a coat rack, knocking it over with an indignant squawk. The coat rack, apparently having had enough, shimmered and turned into a tiny walking broom, scuttling away from Qlaark with visible irritation.

  Krungus adjusted his glasses. "Remarkable. The amplification factor remains uncontrolled. Again."

  Qlaark, from the floor, held up a shaky hand. "Hey man, I’m all for science, but maybe we—AAAHHHH!"

  Eugene tried again, and Qlaark bounced off the ceiling, arms flailing before he crashed down onto a plush armchair, which promptly sighed and reshaped itself to accommodate him more comfortably.

  Hazel Fortuna casually flipped a card from her deck, a knowing glint in her eye as she decided to nudge Eugene’s magic for the sake of "science."

  Eugene attempted to summon a simple teacup.

  Eugene expected the spell to create a teacup in his hand.

  Instead, a fully set dining table materialized, complete with roast pheasant, freshly baked bread, and a jazz band playing softly in the corner. A candelabra flickered to life atop the table, setting the mood as the band struck up a smooth, soulful tune. A silver-haired waiter bowed politely before vanishing into thin air.

  The Hearth, misinterpreting Eugene’s request, assumed he needed a meal.

  Qlaark, pulling out a chair, grinned. "Oh, I love this experiment."

  Krungus furiously scribbled in his notes, adjusting his glasses. "Curious. The Hearth’s amplification favors excess when left vague. We must measure constraints next."

  Hazel, still grinning as she reshuffled her deck, lifted a brow. "Or we can lean into the fun."

  Eugene exhaled slowly, staring at the elaborate feast. "So… if I try to conjure a candle, am I gonna get a whole damn lighthouse?"

  Krungus, still writing, barely looked up. "Only one way to find out. Do proceed."

  Qlaark, through a mouthful of bread, gave a muffled cheer. "Best test ever!"

  Eugene focused on creating a Welcoming Ward, channeling his magic with as much precision as he could manage. This time, he made a deliberate effort to keep his request to the Hearth clear and controlled.

  Eugene expected the spell to generate a simple, personal-sized golden shield in front of him.

  Instead, golden light exploded outward as the Hearth responded with enthusiasm, conjuring an entire fortress of shimmering energy around them. Towering walls of glowing gold sealed the Hearth within an impenetrable dome, trapping everyone inside.

  Qlaark knocked on the barrier experimentally. "Uh… cool spell?"

  Cozimia, unfazed, took another sip from her crystalline glass before casually stepping forward and phasing through the golden energy as if it weren’t there. She turned back with an amused smile. "Try again, sugar. You forgot to ask nicely."

  Krungus crossed his arms, looking entirely unimpressed. "You didn’t specify an exit condition. Rookie mistake."

  Eugene sighed, placing a hand against the barrier. With some effort, he banished the shield, the golden fortress dissolving into soft embers before vanishing entirely.

  He shook his head. "It’s like the Hearth listens too well."

  Krungus nodded, flipping a page in his tome. "Precisely. You must not just control magic—you must guide it."

  Eugene took a deep breath, preparing for the next test. This time, they were testing Hospitality’s Reckoning, one of the strongest offensive spells in his arsenal. Even unamplified, it packed a serious punch. With the Hearth’s influence? He wasn’t sure what to expect.

  He braced himself, carefully shaping the spell. He expected a concentrated blast of energy, powerful but controlled.

  The moment Eugene cast the spell, reality seemed to fracture.

  A deafening shockwave erupted, sending out a force that felt like a bomb mixed with an earthquake. The Hearth trembled violently, furniture upended, bookshelves toppling over as arcs of golden energy lashed out in unpredictable directions. Plates shattered, candles guttered out, and for a terrifying moment, the sheer power of the spell overloaded every safeguard Krungus had placed.

  Krungus, caught off guard, reached for one of the time-rewind scrolls at his waist, but the raw force of the blast sent it flying from his fingers. His eyes widened as he fumbled for it, panic flashing across his usually controlled expression.

  For a brief, stomach-dropping second, they were all about to die.

  Then, by sheer reflex, Krungus managed to snatch the scroll mid-air, tearing it open just in time. The golden blast reversed upon itself, rewinding the devastation by six seconds. The Hearth snapped back into its pristine state, the only evidence of the disaster being their stunned expressions and racing heartbeats.

  There was a long, heavy silence.

  Qlaark was the first to laugh—short, breathless, and distinctly nervous. "Hah. Okay. So maybe… maybe that one’s too strong."

  Eugene swallowed hard, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. "Yeah. Uh. Let’s… let’s not do that one again."

  Krungus exhaled slowly, adjusting his glasses with a shaking hand. "I thought my safeguards were overkill." He let out a humorless chuckle. "They were not nearly enough."

  Cozimia, still lounging as if nothing had happened, swirled her drink. "Well, that was exciting." She glanced at Eugene, smirking. "You do know how to put on a show, sugar."

  They all chuckled, but it was the kind of laugh that carried just a little too much tension, the kind that came after realizing they had barely survived something incredibly stupid.

  The aftermath of Hospitality’s Reckoning left them all rattled, standing amid the Hearth’s magically restored furniture, their nerves still catching up to the six-second rewind that had saved them from oblivion. Eugene wiped his hands on his jeans, exhaling sharply as he tried to steady himself.

  Qlaark, still grinning that nervous grin, stretched his wings and flopped into a chair. "Okay, so. That was a thing. Maybe let’s not do that again for at least... ever."

  Krungus, rubbing his temples, muttered something under his breath as he adjusted his glasses. "Agreed. Let’s take a moment before we all perish due to reckless incompetence."

  Eugene sat down heavily, rolling his shoulders. His heart was still pounding, but as his breathing evened out, something clicked in his mind. The Hearth wasn’t just amplifying his spells—it was amplifying his subconscious intent. Every time he’d cast, the magic had followed what he wanted deep down, not just what he had consciously shaped.

  He looked at Cozimia, who lounged effortlessly on her chaise, watching him with an amused expression.

  She swirled the last of her drink, golden liquid catching the firelight. "It’s not just about casting a spell, sugar. It’s about understanding what you really want to happen."

  Eugene frowned, turning the thought over in his mind. It made sense. The Hearth wasn’t just a place—it was a living space, responding to his magic with the same intuitive hospitality Cozimia embodied. It gave not what was asked for, but what was needed—or at least, what it thought was needed. And if his own subconscious was tangled up in his casting, then he needed to be more than just careful.

  He needed to be precise.

  Standing again, he rolled his shoulders, shaking out the last of the tension. "Alright. One more try."

  Krungus raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply crossing his arms and watching.

  Eugene took a breath and focused—not just on casting, but on shaping the spell’s outcome in his mind before letting the magic flow. He pictured a precise shield, no excess, no overcompensation. A barrier that would appear exactly when needed and vanish just as easily.

  He cast.

  A golden shield flickered into existence in front of him, exactly as intended—compact, controlled, and stable. He held it for a moment, then with a thought, dismissed it. The magic unraveled smoothly, disappearing without resistance.

  Krungus nodded, begrudgingly impressed. "Finally, some competence."

  Qlaark gave a slow, exaggerated clap. "He’s done it. He’s finally done magic like a normal person."

  Eugene smirked. "Took me long enough. Though, to be fair, amplification from three Jennies and an alien tower might make things a tad more difficult."

  Cozimia tipped her glass toward him. "And that, sugar, is progress."

  Qlaark, bruised but grinning ear-to-ear, stretched his wings and declared, "I’m calling it—this session was a success. Science wins."

  Krungus, squinting over his notes, barely looked up as he pulled a scroll from his bag and handed it to Eugene. "Since I am apparently your mentor now, study these equations on magical feedback loops. Your spells lack finesse."

  Eugene took the scroll with a sigh, unrolling it just enough to see a dense wall of arcane formulas and annotations in Krungus’s impossibly neat handwriting. "I liked it better when you were helping me not to blow up the Hearth. I don’t have a clue what these equations mean."

  Krungus snorted. "And yet, you survived the day. A coincidence? I think not."

  As they settled back into their seats, the Hearth shifted almost imperceptibly—pillars straightening, candlelight burning just a little warmer, the air carrying the faintest hum of recognition. It was responding to Eugene’s growth, acknowledging his progress. It recognized him more clearly now—its new master was starting to understand its nature.