Casey walked along the pool's stone edge, its cool, damp surface pressed into his bare feet.
He planted himself, set his stance, and drew in a deep breath of the drafty air.
The chill reached his lips, and white filled his line of sight. A frozen storm shrieked through the fence's pikes, and tore into the tall grass beyond the yard.
Gradually the air stilled.
Cold vapor drifted from his mouth as his teeth chattered. Sweat from his earlier workout had frozen into a stiff, brittle sheet against his skin.
The lawn, hedges, and fence were coated in icicles.
His eyes lit up. The power rushing through him felt unreal. He had done this. Him.
After settling his emotions, smiling Casey headed back towards the door. The faint crackling of frozen fabric didn't bother him at all.
Sword in hand, he turned to close the door and froze.
A blurry figure stood in the frosty wind.
Casey stared for several seconds before it slowly faded from sight.
Probably just some irregularity from casting a new spell. He'd ask his father later.
The kitchen opened into the backyard. His dad stood at the stove; cooking and singing a church song. Casey didn't recognize it, but it had a upbeat, lively, vibe. It 'd make old people feel young. Or act young. Most people would never believe he could be like this.
Casey shook his head, and smiled. His dad was a corn ball.
The scent of sausages and eggs filled the room. They rested on a white ceramic plate and glistened boldly.
"Dad, come look at the fence. I made it freeze over, then I saw..."
"Case, go take a bath first. Breakfast will be here when you're done."
"Alright, dad."
He went to his room, and handled the routine quickly. Casey returned in red denim shirt, yellow pants, and a light brown boot.
"Case, first thing's first, you didn't do bad." His dad sat at the table, a very full plate in front of him. "Light blue at eighteen? That's amazing."
He looked similar to yesterday; a pink dress shirt, black pants, leather shoes, and handsome for his age. The only real differences between their faces were a few wrinkles and a salt-and-pepper beard.
"I feel like I could try more spells, dad." Casey said, holding up his hands. "Like controlling heat and stuff… but honestly? I'm kind of scared to try it."
"If you tried fire right now, you'd probably burn yourself. After a breakthrough, you shouldn't cast too soon. Composite mana needs time to refill. The nodes progress faster, but the body has to catch up to it."
"I see… makes sense." He paused. "You probably should've told me that earlier."
"You're not stupid enough to use fire."
"Yeah, but I like surprising people."
His dad snorted. "Anyway, come to church with me tomorrow? Over the next few weeks we're covering the basics. And you need to get back in there, so you don't end up like some of these idiots wandering around lost."
"Tomorrow? You already took my whole day with the servicing thing."
"If you come, I might give you a car."
"A car for church? Yeah… you're definitely hiding something. I'll come next week?"
Casey slowed his eating. The earlier incident scratched at the back of his mind.
"Dad… have you ever seen a figure after a breakthrough?"
His stopped eating. "Like what?"
Casey paused and thought about it for a second. It was strange to say. "I guess a ghost?"
"Yeah. When I first reached dark purple at twenty-four. Spirits usually watch someone they think might be dangerous. But seeing one at blue. Did you, Case?"
"Yeah. It stood at the fence, watching me."
His father frowned. "That's not good. I might need to make some calls. But if it was blurry, it's probably a weak one."
He pulled out his phone immediately.
"Darold, I'm coming over. We may have a problem." He paced outside while talking.
When he returned, he handed Casey a silver pendant etched with words Casey couldn't read.
"That'll cover you. The watch should've been enough, but this will help until light purple."
"Light purple? I wish."
They finished eating, and Casey left home. His dad didn't seem overly worried, so Casey decided to trust him.
............
By the time the mechanic finished everything, a quiet purple sky had settled in.
Casey drove toward the eastern end of Old Providence.
His thoughts lingered on the morning, especially the weight of the pendant pressing on his chest.
With a sigh, he turned on the truck's radio.
Lawns, quarry patches, bushes, sometimes all three at them, slid past the him.
Houses varied along the road. Some were old. Some were patched up. There others new but cheaply built.
No kids were outside now. The air felt moist, cool, and smelt fishy. People in the west liked being outdoors. Groups of them gathered near bars, under trees, beneath streetlights; playing loud domino games, having arguments, laughter, drinking, or smoking — all blending into one restless noise.
Casey parked across from the purple-and-white restaurant High Tide. A small dark overhang sheltered the outdoor section.
Behind the quarry lot sat a large pond. A nearby ramp let boaters launch into it — the water eventually connected to the ocean somewhere in the distance.
Rico had texted earlier. And said that they needed to talk. He wouldn't explain why. That meant it was important.
Apartments surrounded the restaurant. Bimini's strict building codes required concrete and block near the shore in case of storms. Three-story buildings lined the coast, railings rusted from the salty air. Mostly brown or white, because those were those were easier to redo.
Pole lights illuminated a nearby basketball court, where music was blasting. A huge crowd cheered.
Casey focused on the restaurant.
After checking both directions, he crossed the street and climbed the stairs.
Inside, the space was wide open with tough outdoor white tile. There were fans that spun quickly on the walls. Casey made it through the crowd and ordered a dinner.
He sat and messaged Rico.
Not long after, a lazy-looking guy walked in. White T-shirt, fitted ripped jeans, and red sneakers.
The same age as Casey and dark-skinned. Rico had grown a really nice beard. He walked over and pulled Casey into a hug.