Magic

26th January 1988

This year, to put it mildly, has been a whirlwind of excitement and progress.

Firstly, the seeds of influence he meticulously planted in the minds of his peers have begun to bloom. A growing number of children now look to him with reverence, their eyes and ears extending his reach across the orphanage and beyond. His method? A clever rewards system, incentivizing the sharing of knowledge with candy, toys, or simply his time.

Like a conductor orchestrating a symphony, he manipulates the gears of this mechanism, gathering intelligence and authority unto himself. With each passing day, as the children mature and their responsibilities expand, so too does his power and influence.

But this, he knows, is merely a footnote compared to his true ambition—a discovery that transcends the mundane world.

Magic.

An enigmatic force surged within him, unique to his being. Its origins eluded the grasp of scientific inquiry, existing beyond the boundaries of rational explanation. It was a power steeped in the mysteries of time immemorial, woven into the fabric of ancient lore and whispered of in the tales of old.

Its revelation had been serendipitous, a chance encounter when he yearned for a book and it obeyed, drawn to him as if by an unseen force. Was it a manifestation of his insatiable thirst for knowledge, or a testament to his innate desire for control? The answers remained elusive, shrouded in the enigma of his newfound abilities. For now, they were his alone to wield, a gift awaiting its chosen bestower until he could unlock its secrets and share its blessings with others.

"Like a deity," he once found himself thinking, momentarily overwhelmed by a sense of grandeur and authority.

In his secluded chamber, he contemplates this newfound gift, its allure consuming his every thought. No longer content with mere control, he now seeks dominion over the very forces of nature.

As he scribbles furiously in his journal, his mind ablaze with possibilities, a knock at the door interrupts his reverie.

Instantly, his demeanour shifts, a mask of eagerness replacing his contemplative expression as he greets the matron.

"Who is it?" he calls out, his voice tinged with curiosity.

The door glides open to reveal the matron, her cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the shadows of the corridor.

"How's our little caretaker doing?" she chortles, her voice free of its usual rasp, pulling him into a closed hug.

"I'm fine," he replies with a smile, basking in her warmth. "There's no greater joy than looking after the little ones." receiving a slight laugh in response

"If you don't get adopted soon, you'll be taking my job," she teases, her eyes sparkling with affection.

"I'm truly grateful you took me in," he murmurs, tightening the embrace.

"And I'm grateful I did," she responds, ruffling his hair fondly.

With a kiss on the forehead and a wink, she bids him goodnight, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more, the door sliding shut without a sound.

His emotional façade slipped away once more as he delved into contemplation.

"Hmm, she's been intruding more frequently lately. Though her observations are rudimentary, they hinder my ability to conduct the 'serious' experiments crucial for my magical advancement," he mused within the confines of his sanctuary.

"Perhaps I could orchestrate her removal and replace her with a less perceptive matron," he pondered, weaving intricate plans to achieve this objective.

After weighing the risks and rewards, he decided against immediate action. The perks of being the favoured child far outweighed the occasional interruptions caused by her watchful eye.

Furthermore, his magical research had not yet delved so deeply that it necessitated additional resources that might draw undue attention from the staff.

No, that milestone was reserved for the future, when he, and only he, had ascended to the pinnacle of his power—a destiny he could feel coursing through his veins.

Time was on his side. The years ahead promised to transform the orphanage into a bastion for his research, the inaugural step in his odyssey into the depths of magic.

Focusing on the latent energy pulsating within his blood, he attempted to coax it forth, channelling his will through the appendage he found most receptive, his hands with finer control enabled through his fingertips.

The results were mixed, as they often were. Sometimes, his efforts yielded nothing. Other times, he felt a tug or a push, albeit feeble.

This time, he directed his attention to a bucket weighted with rocks, initiating a controlled test of his endurance. With a click of a watch, he exerted himself, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he strained against the resistance until the watch clicked once more, signalling the end of the trial.

Recording the results meticulously in his journal, he noted the parameters of his abilities: maximum weight, pushing force, and endurance.

Through these empirical observations, he discerned a pattern: his powers were steadily growing, unaffected by time of day or physical exertion but intricately linked to his emotional state. Pulling was most potent in moments of euphoria, while pushing surged forth fuelled by malice.

The fluctuations in his magical prowess, often exceeding recorded limits in moments of heightened emotion, warranted further investigation—a task he approached with methodical precision.

With a final flourish, he closed his journal, his gaze drifting to the window.

"One step at a time," he murmured softly, fortifying his resolve.

"Soon, we'll progress to the next phase, once our preparations are complete," he reflected inwardly, plotting the intricate manoeuvres that would inch him ever closer to his ultimate destiny.