The basement of our home in the cul-de-sac had been hastily rearranged into a makeshift training space. Furniture pushed against the walls, old mats from the kids’ workout days laid across the floor. I stood before my family, feeling a strange mixture of pride and urgency as they sat cross-legged on the mats before me. Time was our enemy now as the countdown to The Fall accelerating with each passing day.

  “Before we begin practical training, you need to understand what we’re actually doing when we use mana,” I said, pacing slowly before them. “In the previous timeline, The System gave us a framework; a user interface, if you will that made manipulation intuitive. Without that interface, we need to understand the fundamental principles of what Mana is.”

  I stopped and held out my hand, concentrating until a small sphere of blue energy materialized above my palm. The family leaned forward, captivated by the gently pulsing light.

  “In its purest form, mana appears blue; neutral and full of potential,” I explained. “The color changes only when we impose our will upon it. Think of it as water taking the shape of whatever container holds it.”

  I focused my intent, and the sphere shifted to a deep purple, threads extending from its surface like a web.

  “Our intent, our character, our very essence colors the mana we manipulate,” I continued. “That’s why Aurora’s healing manifests as golden light, why Margo’s connection to plants shows as green energy. The mana itself doesn’t change; our relationship with it does.”

  Xavier raised his hand. “So when The System returns, will we still be able to use these more... personalized expressions of power? Or will we be forced back into the preset skills?”

  A smile tugged at my lips. He always thought ahead, considering implications beyond the immediate challenge.

  “An excellent question. I believe the skills we develop now will merge with The System’s framework,” I answered. “But more importantly, understanding mana now gives us an advantage when The Fall occurs. Others will be fumbling with new abilities while we’ll already have mastered the basics.”

  Aurora, ever practical, leaned forward. “So how do we actually do this without The System helping us?”

  “Four steps,” I replied, holding up four fingers. “Understanding, Construction, Manifestation, and Mental Image. These are the foundations of all mana manipulation that I’ve used in the old world.”

  I gestured for them to stand and form a circle around me.

  “First, Understanding. You must comprehend what you’re trying to accomplish. If you want to create fire, you need to understand heat, combustion, and energy transfer. For healing, you need knowledge of biology, cellular regeneration, and balance.”

  I pointed to Margo. “That’s why it’s so important that you study plant biology, not just attempt to grow things through instinct.”

  She nodded reluctantly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “So, all those books weren’t just busywork.”

  “Exactly. Knowledge is power; literally, in this case. The more deeply you understand something, the more effectively you can manipulate it with mana.”

  I moved to the second point. “Next is Construction. This is where you build the framework for your ability using mana. Think of it as creating a blueprint or a channel through which your power will flow.”

  I demonstrated by forming thin lines of purple energy between my fingers, creating a geometric pattern that hummed with potential.

  “The precision of your Construction directly impacts the efficiency and effectiveness of your ability. Sloppy Construction means wasted mana and unpredictable results.”

  Nadia, always impatient, shifted her weight from foot to foot. “And Manifestation?”

  “That’s where you push your will through the Construction you’ve created,” I explained. “You’re essentially bringing your intent into reality. This is where most of the mana consumption happens.”

  The pattern between my fingers suddenly solidified, the lines thickening and brightening.

  “The final step is Mental Image; what you actually want to create. The clearer and more detailed your mental image, the more precise the result.” I closed my fist, and the pattern collapsed into a sphere of intense purple light. “Without a clear Mental Image, your mana might take a form you didn’t intend or completely dissipate entirely; cancelling the magic.”

  I released the energy, letting it fade away. “These four steps happen almost simultaneously when you’re experienced. Right now, we need to practice them separately, understanding each component before combining them.”

  I looked at each of my family members in turn. “Let’s begin with the first step; finding your mana. Close your eyes and focus on your heartbeat. Mana circulates with your blood, flowing through your entire body. Try to sense that current, that cool energy beneath your skin.”

  They closed their eyes, their faces showing varying degrees of concentration. I watched as Aurora found her connection almost immediately, a subtle golden glow emanating from her skin. Xavier followed soon after, a faint shimmer of light outlining his form. Margo’s connection manifested as tiny green sparks at her fingertips.

  Maeve and Nadia struggled longer, their faces tense with effort. I moved between them, offering guidance.

  “Don’t force it, Maeve,” I said softly. “You’re trying too hard. Mana responds to intention, not brute force. Think of it as coaxing rather than commanding.”

  She nodded, her expression relaxing slightly. After a few more moments, a subtle blue haze began to form around her hands.

  I turned to Nadia, who was visibly frustrated. “Focus, Nadia. Think of your physical training. You already have an intuitive understanding of weight and force. Find that knowledge within yourself and connect it to the cool energy surging in your veins.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and suddenly small objects around he; pencils, coins, a water bottle, began to hover slightly above the floor. Her eyes snapped open in surprise, and everything clattered back down.

  “I felt it!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement. “Like... pressure pushing outward from inside me.”

  “Excellent,” I said, genuinely pleased with their progress. “Now that you’ve each found your connection, we’ll work on your individual specialties.”

  For the next hour, I worked with each family member individually in our cramped but functional basement space, helping them understand their unique relationships with mana.

  Xavier sat cross-legged; his hands cupped before him as he attempted to connect with mana for the first time. Unlike the others who were still searching for their affinities, Xavier had already made his choice.

  “I want to work with light,” he’d told me earlier. “Something about it just... calls to me.”

  I knelt beside him now, observing his concentration. “Light is a fascinating choice,” I said. “It has aspects of both waves and particles, exists across multiple spectrums, and interacts with nearly everything in our world.”

  “How do I start?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concentration.

  “Begin by observing,” I suggested. I positioned a flashlight a few feet away, aiming its beam at the wall. “Don’t try to create light yet. First, understand it. Watch how it moves, how it reflects, how it behaves.”

  Xavier nodded, his gaze fixed on the beam cutting through the dim basement. “It travels in straight lines,” he murmured, “unless something interferes with it.”

  “Exactly. Now, try to feel the mana within you, and imagine it extending toward that beam. Don’t try to control the light yet; just try to sense it.”

  For several minutes, Xavier sat motionless, his focus unwavering. Then, almost imperceptibly, his fingers twitched, and the light beam wavered slightly.

  “Did you see that?” he asked, excitement breaking through his concentration.

  “I did. That’s excellent progress for a first attempt,” I encouraged. “You’re establishing a connection between your mana and the light. Keep practicing that connection before attempting manipulation.”

  I left him studying the beam with renewed focus, his determination evident in every line of his body.

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  Maeve sat in the corner of the basement; her eyes closed in deep concentration. Unlike her siblings, she hadn’t immediately declared what power she wanted to pursue.

  “I’m still deciding,” she’d said when I asked.

  I approached her now, sensing her frustration. “How are you progressing?”

  She opened her eyes with a sigh. “I don’t know what to focus on. Everyone else seems to have a clear direction.”

  “What interests you?” I asked. “What ability would complement your natural tendencies?”

  Maeve thought for a moment. “I’ve always been good at getting from place to place quickly. Finding the fastest route, the most efficient path.”

  “Spatial awareness,” I noted. “Have you considered teleportation?”

  Her eyes widened slightly. “Is that even possible?”

  “All things are possible with mana,” I replied. “Teleportation is about understanding the nature of space itself; realizing that the distance between two points isn’t fixed but flexible.”

  “How would I even start with something like that?”

  I handed her a pencil. “Begin with something small. Hold this in your hand and visualize where you want it to go. Not too far at first; maybe just a few inches away.”

  Maeve looked skeptical but took the pencil. “So I just... imagine it moving?”

  “Focus on the pencil, then on the space where you want it to be. Imagine those two points connected by a string of mana shorter than the physical distance between them.”

  She closed her eyes, her face serene with concentration. After nearly a minute, her brow furrowed slightly. The pencil in her hand shimmered almost imperceptibly, then disappeared.

  Her eyes flew open in shock as the pencil clattered to the floor, a foot away from where she sat.

  “I... how did I...” she stammered, staring at the pencil.

  “That’s it,” I said, genuinely impressed by her natural aptitude. “That’s the foundation of teleportation; understanding that space can be folded when properly manipulated by mana.”

  “It didn’t go where I intended,” she said, looking at the pencil with fascination.

  “Precision will come with practice. For now, just work on the basic principle. And we’ll need to get you some books on quantum physics; understanding the theoretical framework will give your abilities more structure.”

  Maeve nodded, already reaching for the pencil again, her expression transformed by newfound purpose.

  Margo sat surrounded by houseplants we’d gathered from around the home, her fingers gently touching the soil in a pot containing a small fern.

  “Plants,” she’d declared immediately when I asked about her affinity. “I’ve always loved them, understood them. It just feels right.”

  Now, as I approached, I could see her frustration. “Nothing’s happening,” she said without looking up. “I’m trying to feel the plant, to connect with it, but it’s just... sitting there.”

  “What are you trying to accomplish?” I asked, kneeling beside her.

  “I want it to grow,” she said. “But I don’t know how to make the mana do that.”

  “Maybe you’re approaching it backward,” I suggested. “Instead of imposing your will on the plant, try listening to it first. Plants already know how to grow; they’ve been doing it for millions of years. Your role isn’t to force growth but to facilitate it.”

  Margo looked skeptical. “How do I listen to a plant?”

  “Close your eyes. Place your hands near it, not touching. Try to sense the life energy already flowing through it. Plants have their own circulation systems, their own methods of converting energy.”

  She followed my instructions, her expression softening as she concentrated. After a few moments, a hint of green light began to shimmer around her fingertips.

  “I can feel it,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “It’s... hungry. For light, for water, for nutrients.”

  “Good. Now imagine your mana as a supplement to what it needs. Not changing its nature, just supporting it.”

  The green glow intensified, spreading from her fingers to encompass the small fern. Before our eyes, the plant seemed to straighten, its fronds unfurling slightly as if stretching toward the sun.

  Margo’s eyes flew open. “Look! It responded!”

  “Excellent,” I said, genuinely pleased with her progress. “That’s the beginning of plant manipulation; understanding what living things need and providing it through mana.”

  “I didn’t make it grow, exactly,” she said thoughtfully. “I just... helped it do what it wanted to do anyway.”

  “That’s precisely the right approach. The most effective use of mana works with natural principles rather than against them. You’ll need to study plant biology more deeply to understand all the ways you can support and enhance their natural processes.”

  Margo nodded, already turning her attention to the next plant, a newfound confidence in her movements.

  Nadia, our youngest, had been the most decisive about her choice.

  “Gravity,” she’d announced without hesitation. “I want to control gravity.”

  Now she stood in an open area of the basement, frustration evident in her posture as she stared at a small rubber ball on the floor.

  “It won’t move like everything else did before,” she said as I approached. “I’m trying to make it lighter, to float, but nothing’s happening.”

  “Gravity is a fundamental force,” I explained. “It might help to approach it through your physical training. You’ve been studying Jiu Jitsu, right?”

  She nodded, looking puzzled at the connection.

  “Jiu Jitsu is all about leverage, balance, and controlling your opponent’s weight. In a sense, you’re already manipulating the effects of gravity through physical technique.”

  “So how does that help me with actual gravity control?”

  “Try this,” I suggested. “Instead of staring at the ball, move through one of your forms. Focus on the feeling of weight, of pressure, of force. Let your body remember what those sensations feel like.”

  Nadia looked skeptical but began moving through a series of martial arts stances. Her movements were fluid, practiced, displaying the discipline she’d developed over years of training.

  “Now,” I said softly, “as you move, imagine those same forces extending beyond your body. The weight you feel in your stance, project it outward toward the ball.”

  She continued her movement, adding a stomp and palm thrust toward the ball. To both of our surprise, the floor seemed to shudder slightly, and the ball rolled several inches away as if pushed by an invisible hand.

  Nadia froze; her eyes wide. “Did I do that?”

  “You did,” I confirmed. “You’re beginning to extend your awareness of physical forces beyond your body. That’s the foundation of gravity manipulation.”

  “But I didn’t make it float,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  “One step at a time,” I advised. “You’ve established a connection between your mana and gravitational force. Build on that foundation. Continue your physical training, but now with an awareness of how it relates to the force you’re trying to control.”

  Nadia nodded, her determination visibly renewed as she resumed her stance, eyeing the ball with newfound purpose.

  Finally, I approached Aurora, who sat quietly in a corner of the basement, her eyes closed in meditation.

  “How are you progressing?” I asked, sitting beside her.

  She opened her eyes slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s strange,” she said. “When I try to connect with the mana, I feel... warmth. Like sunlight inside me.”

  “What are you focusing on?” I asked.

  “Healing,” she said. “It feels most natural to me. I’ve always tried to take care of everyone, to help when they’re hurt. This feels like an extension of that instinct.”

  As she spoke, a faint golden glow began to emanate from her skin; barely visible, more a suggestion of light than actual illumination.

  “That’s remarkable,” I said. “Your mana is already responding to your intent, even without specific training.”

  “Is that unusual?” she asked.

  “Some people have natural affinities that manifest more readily than others. Your connection to healing seems to be one of those.”

  Aurora looked at her hands, where the golden light seemed to gather most strongly. “How do I develop this further?”

  “Study anatomy, medicine, how the body heals itself naturally,” I suggested. “The most effective healing magic works with the body’s natural processes rather than imposing something foreign on it.”

  She nodded. “I’ve already started studying basic medical procedures for dummies. I intend to progress the difficulty slowly.”

  “That knowledge will make your healing abilities more precise, more effective,” I assured her. “And as you develop, you might find there’s more to your power than just healing damage. Protection, enhancement; these could be extensions of the same basic principle.”

  The golden light pulsed slightly brighter, as if responding to her growing understanding. “I think I can do this,” she said, her voice gaining confidence. “It feels... right.”

  “It is right,” I said, taking her hand. The warmth of her mana flowed between us, comforting and strengthening. “You’re going to save so many lives, Aurora.”

  Her eyes met mine, and I saw a reflection of the golden light in their depths. “We all will,” she said. “Together.”

  After three hours of intensive practice, everyone began showing signs of fatigue. Mana depletion manifested differently in each of them; Xavier squinted against light sensitivity, Maeve seemed slightly disoriented, Margo’s skin had taken on a pale, almost translucent quality, Nadia’s movements had slowed, and Aurora’s golden glow had dimmed to a faint shimmer.

  “That’s enough for today,” I announced. “Mana reserves build gradually, like muscle. Push too hard too fast, and you’ll do more harm than good.”

  “When can we try again?” Nadia asked, her enthusiasm undimmed despite her obvious exhaustion.

  “Tomorrow,” I promised. “But tonight, I want you all to reflect on what you’ve learned. Particularly the relationship between Understanding and Manifestation. Knowledge and power are inseparable in mana manipulation.”

  They nodded, beginning to gather their things. As they began to disperse, I added one more thought.

  “What we’re doing isn’t just about survival when The Fall comes. It’s about changing the outcome. Last time, humanity was caught unprepared, thrown into chaos by abilities we didn’t understand. This time, we’ll be ready.”

  Xavier paused at the foot of the stairs. “You really think we can make a difference? Against the entire world changing?”

  I met his gaze steadily. “I know we can. Because we understand what others don’t; that power without knowledge is chaos, but knowledge directed by purpose is unstoppable.”

  As my family filed out of the training room, I allowed myself a moment of genuine hope. Their progress was remarkable, faster than I had dared to expect. Perhaps the traces of mana that remained in them from the previous timeline, or perhaps the genetic memory of abilities once mastered; whatever the reason, they were rediscovering their powers with astonishing speed.

  I remained in the basement after they left, sitting cross-legged on the training mat. My own connection to mana felt different now; deeper, more complex. The threads I could manipulate had grown stronger, more responsive to my will. But there was something else, something I hadn’t shared with my family yet.

  Closing my eyes, I reached inward, to the mental space where I had created the Mind Palace. The construction remained stable, growing more elaborate with each visit. But beyond it, in the darkness of my own consciousness, I sensed something vast and ancient watching.

  I whispered to the presence I knew was listening. “Are they developing quickly enough?”

  No answer came; not that I expected one. She spoke only when it served her purposes, not mine. But sometimes silence was its own form of communication.

  I opened my eyes, resolving to increase the intensity of our training tomorrow. The family’s progress was encouraging, but the clock was ticking. The Fall would come whether we were ready or not, and this time, I intended for humanity to not just survive but thrive.

  Rising to my feet, I turned off the lights in our basement and headed upstairs to where Aurora waited. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new progress. For now, though, we had this moment of peace in our small home, a precious commodity in the face of what was to come.

  “We have a chance,” I thought as I climbed the stairs. “This time, we have a real chance.”