Later that night, Mom called me into the living room. Her voice had that edge to it again—soft, but firm enough that you could feel something heavy sitting behind it.
"Kaleb," she said, "I need you to understand something."
I came around the corner. "What is it?"
She motioned for me to sit. The lamp beside her flickered, washing the room in pale gold. The vials—those same ones she'd shown us weeks ago—still sat on the coffee table. She'd brought them out again.
"I kept all of your powers for moments like this," she said quietly.
"I know," I said, glancing at them. "You told us that already."
"Yes," she nodded, "but I didn't tell you what I planned to do with them."
That got my attention.
She folded her hands, the light catching the faint tremor in her fingers. "You've seen the state the world's in, Kaleb. Fights breaking out between metas in the streets, Sentinel tightening their control, and the Harbingers resurfacing. We can't keep pretending this house is safe anymore."
I leaned back against the couch. "So what are you saying?"
She hesitated before answering. "I'm saying… maybe it's time we think about restoring what was taken from you."
My throat went dry. "You mean… injecting them back?"
Her silence said everything.
"Mom, no," I said, shaking my head. "That's—no. We don't even know what those powers are. You said it yourself—you kept them hidden because they were dangerous."
"I said they were unpredictable," she corrected softly. "Dangerous depends on who's using them."
"That's not comforting," I said flatly.
"I'm not trying to comfort you," she said, voice rising just a bit. "I'm trying to prepare you. You've been powerless for months now, and Sentinel knows it. Joe knows it. If they can't use the Nexus, they'll come after whatever's left—us."
I stared at her. "So your solution is to make us like them again?"
"My solution," she said slowly, "is to make sure you're not defenseless when they come."
"Mom, you don't even know what my power does," I said. "What if it's something worse? What if—"
"Then we'll deal with it together," she said.
Her voice cracked on the word together.
For a while, the only sound was the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Finally, she spoke again, quieter. "When I removed them from you, I thought I was saving your lives. But the world isn't the same anymore, Kaleb. I can't protect you the way I used to. Not from Sentinel. Not from what's coming."
Her eyes glistened, reflecting the faint light from the vials. "I won't let them hurt you again."
I rubbed my hands together, trying to steady my breathing. "So this is what we've come to—injecting mystery powers because the world's losing its mind."
Her expression softened. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."
"You always said power changes people," I said quietly.
"It does," she replied. "But you've changed too. You've seen what happens when power is taken away. Maybe… maybe it's time you remember what it feels like to have it again."
I didn't answer. The vials glimmered faintly on the table, each one alive with its own pulse: Ooker's green, A aliah's violet, mine—black.
Aaliah and Booker were upstairs, probably pretending not to listen. We all knew this conversation was inevitable, but none of us thought it would come tonight.
"Defensive measures," Mom said, almost to herself.
I looked at her. "That's what you're calling this?"
She met my eyes. "You call it fear if you want. I call it keeping you alive."
When she finally went to bed, I stayed on the couch. The vials reflected the lamplight like tiny stars trapped in glass. Part of me wanted to destroy them—end the question before it started. But another part couldn't look away.
Because deep down, I wasn't sure what scared me more: being powerless in this world—or finding out what I really am when I'm not.