7:00 a.m. – Domestic Disaster Hour
Both Nyxar and Ember woke up at almost the exact same time. The difference was simple: Nyxar functioned immediately. Ember… didn't.
While Ember blinked blearily at the ceiling, Nyxar was already halfway through his morning routine — a surprisingly organized one for someone who barely understood what "morning" meant.
He got up, stretched once (more out of habit than need), and proceeded to:
Wake up Bug and Spirit, who were entangled mid-argument even in their sleep.
Make food. Why? "Because I can," was his philosophy.
Brew coffee. Because apparently that's what humans did to "feel alive."
The narrator added dryly: Whatever "enjoyment" meant to Nyxar, it somehow involved burning through a full bag of beans before sunrise.
☕ Ember.exe Has Stopped Working
Ember stumbled into the kitchen five minutes later, looking like she'd just lost a battle with gravity. Her hair looked like a small lightning storm had gone off inside it.
She sat down, automatically accepted a cup from Nyxar, and took a long sip.
"Good coffee…" she mumbled.
Then her brain booted up.
Memory file: 'You're sleeping with me now.'
She froze mid-sip.
Slowly, her eyes widened as the entire conversation from last night replayed in perfect clarity.
The cup clinked against the table.
She stared intensely at her breakfast as if the eggs held the answers to life.
"...Why did I say that?" she muttered under her breath.
"Who possessed me to say that?"
"And why…" she squinted, cheeks puffing up slightly, "did it feel so… normal?"
The narrator chimed in, ever so helpful: Because it's called "catching feelings," Ember.
Ember glared upward like she could see the narrator. "I didn't ask you."
🍳 Breakfast Chaos
Bug and Spirit floated over — one excited, one ominously silent.
Bug immediately started eating, while Spirit hovered her food with telekinesis, feeding it to Bug piece by piece.
Bug side-eyed her. "You know you could just eat, right?"
Spirit: "I don't eat. And if I waste food, Nyxar will waste me."
Bug looked between her and Nyxar, who was expressionlessly slicing vegetables with absurd precision. "Fair point."
After a moment of peaceful chewing (if you could call floating food "peaceful"), Bug looked around suspiciously. "Is it just me, or has there been no real trouble lately? I mean, aside from yesterday's spar—which we all knew was going to end with Sophia in a spine-shaped pretzel."
Spirit sighed, resting her chin on her ethereal hand. "Yeah… it feels weird. We need some excitement. Maybe a curse, a monster, or a mild explosion."
The narrator whispered ominously: Be careful what you wish for.
📖 Nyxar & The Living Book
Meanwhile, Nyxar was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating with his hands like a feral nobleman while staring at his floating grimoire.
He wasn't reading it so much as conversing with it. The pages flipped on their own, faint words glowing across the parchment.
Spirit hovered over him. "What are you doing?"
Nyxar replied simply, "Reading."
Bug leaned over his shoulder. "You mean talking. That book's got more personality than you, and it writes back. Don't pretend otherwise."
Nyxar didn't respond.
The book's pages turned again, revealing glowing text.
Grimoire: What do you want to ask this time?
Nyxar: "Is it possible to change the medium of summoning?"
Grimoire: ...What do you mean?
Nyxar: "Can I make summons appear differently? Like… through my shadow. Or through you."
Grimoire: I don't know. Never tried.
Nyxar blinked once — the emotional equivalent of someone gasping dramatically. His face stayed blank. His brain did not.
He wrote again: "What about changing their size?"
Grimoire: Maybe. But it'll change their power. Smaller = less magic used, but also less strength. Bigger = more magic, more power. Example: Bella's weight changes with size. Mantises' claws get shorter and duller when small, sharper and longer when big. Bears... mostly just hit harder no matter what.
Nyxar nodded, utterly satisfied, while maintaining an expression that said absolutely nothing.
The narrator quipped: He may have just unlocked the ability to make death cuter. Wonderful.
🍽️ Meanwhile, Across the Table
Bug and Spirit were still arguing — now about which of them was more useful.
Spoiler: Neither.
Spirit: "I do recon work."
Bug: "I do everything else."
Spirit: "You eat."
Bug: "You float and sass. We all have roles."
Nyxar's fork clattered onto the table (even though he hadn't been using it). Both of them froze immediately.
Bug whispered, "He looked at us."
Spirit whispered back, "Don't move. He detects motion."
Across from them, Ember was still zoning out, staring at her reflection in her coffee cup, silently re-evaluating every life decision that had led her to living in a house with a quiet murder wizard, two chaos fairies, and an alive book.
The narrator summed it up nicely:
So to recap — Spirit and Bug are arguing over food they don't share, Ember's having an existential crisis about emotional intimacy, and Nyxar may have just invented adorable mass destruction. Typical morning.