The Cosmic Gym — Moonlight bleeding through the glass dome above. The training rings are silent, but the silence feels... heavier than usual. The kind of silence that presses down, not from without, but from within.]
The students gather in the center, sitting in a circle. No one's stretching. No one's charging up their Affinity. They're just... existing. And sometimes that's the hardest thing to do.
---
Yyvone is the first to speak, her voice trembling like a thread in the wind.
> Yyvone:
"When the Deviant wave erupted... I felt it. A tightening in my chest. Not fear exactly… more like uncertainty. Like my instincts were second-guessing themselves."
(She looks down at her hands. Threads flicker in and out of existence, like they're undecided too.)
"I thought I had clarity. Now I don't know if I have anything."
---
Sonia, usually the bold one, nods slowly.
> Sonia:
"Yeah... My hope constructs still work. I can feel the emotions, I can pull the spectrums... but when I try to use them…"
(She curls her fingers into a fist, and a flicker of light sputters before dying out.)
"It's like something inside me asks: 'Are you sure this is what you really feel?' And I hesitate... even if it's just for a second."
---
Ian, sword by his side, blade resting across his knees like it's listening too.
> Ian:
"My Horizon Slash... it's not cutting like it used to. I imagine the end point, I feel the energy, but my blade... it hesitates."
(He lets out a dry chuckle.)
"And when your sword hesitates, you start asking... maybe it's not just the sword."
---
Osei Jerry, arms crossed, eyes half-closed like he's meditating—but his voice is raw.
> Osei:
"My instincts... been clean since day one. But now? Every time I react, there's a ghost second where I think: 'Is this Devia or is this me?'"
(He leans forward.)
"That second? That hesitation? Could cost everything. And the worst part is… I know that. And I still feel it."
---
Kennedy, pacing, glitching in and out of sync with his own zone.
> Kennedy:
"My syntax protocol is reacting. Like... Devia left little backdoors in my logic. The environment talks back now. I write code, it rewrites itself. It's like my own power is asking: 'Why that rule? Why not this?'"
(He smirks bitterly.)
"I never thought I'd fear my own programming."
---
Charles, sitting beside him, his hand glowing with unstable sigils.
> Charles:
"My runes keep changing mid-battle. Stuff I used to anchor? It slips now. Like the world is trying to negotiate my commands instead of accepting them."
(He looks up at Jack.)
"Like it wants a reason now... not just a command."
---
All eyes fall on Jack. Their lighthouse. Their compass. Their moral GPS.
He exhales. Slowly. Like he's trying to get the weight off his ribcage.
> Jack:
"Storm Crucible's dead silent."
(He stares at his open palm. Nothing crackles. Not even a spark.)
"It didn't vanish. It's just... watching. Like it's waiting for me to give it permission again. Like it's saying, 'Clarity isn't enough anymore. I want reason.'"
He looks around the group. The flickering Avia around them. The twitching aura. The unspoken doubt in every heart.
> Jack (quietly):
"I rejected Devia outright. But I think... I still breathed it in. And part of me liked it."
A silence follows.
And then...
> Ian:
"Same."
> Sonia:
"Yeah."
> Charles:
"Guilty."
> Osei:
"I didn't even know I did."
> Kennedy:
"It's in the cracks, man."
> Yyvone:
"We all did... even if we didn't mean to."
---
They sit with it. That truth. That realization.
No attacks. No moves. Just raw awareness.
> Jack:
"The Champions left us here to become stronger... but maybe this isn't about strength anymore."
> Henry (leaning on the wall, arms folded):
"Yeah... Maybe it's about understanding. Maybe we're not supposed to beat Devia... maybe we're supposed to face ourselves."
> Yyvone:
"Then that means the next fight... isn't with Traxis."
> Sonia:
"It's with our own shadows."
---
A pulse of Avia flickers in the room. Faint. Honest. Almost... alive again.
It's not glowing bright.
But it's glowing real.
> Jack (smiling slightly):
"So what now?"
> Ian (smirking):
"We get our hands dirty."
> Charles:
"We dive deeper."
> Kennedy:
"We code ourselves again."
> Osei:
"We trust again."
> Sonia:
"And we feel again."
> Yyvone:
"Even if it hurts."
---
The training rings light up. One by one.
Not by command. Not by force.
By clarity trying again.
Even if it's harder than expected.
Even if the truth flickers.
Even if Devia whispers.
They'll move forward.
Together.
The Cosmic Gym – Morning mist hangs just above the floor, like the breath of a giant waiting for the next whisper of fate. The students, still processing the truth in their flickering Avia, feel a sudden shift… a ripple in the atmosphere.]
Footsteps. Heavy, wise, and deliberate.
From the outer arch of the dome, two figures enter—Kainen, calm as ever with his stoic presence that bends shadows without trying, and Aprexion, quiet but sharp-eyed, his quiver humming softly like it knows something the room doesn't.
---
> Kainen:
"You fought Kranor's team."
(He doesn't ask. He states. Like gravity acknowledging a fallen object.)
"And you lost."
> Jack (standing slowly):
"We didn't—"
(He stops. Chuckles. Low and sheepish.)
"Alright. Yeah. We did."
> Aprexion:
(Eyes like ancient mirrors.)
"We expected that."
> Henry (raising a brow):
"Wait, you knew we were gonna lose?"
> Kainen:
"Of course. That was the point."
> Sonia:
"To fail?"
> Kainen (nodding):
"No. To feel failure. And what's worse… to doubt yourself in the echo of it."
> Osei (crossing arms):
"That echo's real. Been playing on repeat."
> Aprexion:
"Good. Let it loop a little longer. Let it gnaw. Because now you're ready for the real test."
They glance at one another. This doesn't feel like the usual battle call.
> Kennedy:
"So... what now? Another battle? New training arc?"
> Kainen:
"Worse."
> Jack:
"Worse?"
> Aprexion (with a faint smirk):
"You're going back."
> Yyvone:
"Back... to where?"
> Kainen:
"Earth."
Silence hits like a thunderclap with no sound.
> Kainen (continuing):
"Back to your roots. Your rawness. The version of yourselves that existed before clarity, before compression, before conceptual mastery."
"Your neighborhoods. Your trauma. Your childhood. Your victories. Your pain. Avia isn't just power. It's origin. If you don't remember who you were… how can you truly master what you've become?"
> Aprexion (stringing an arrow of concept):
"Go home. Confront your ghosts. Your guilt. Your roots. And don't come back until you've faced them like warriors of clarity."
---
They all go quiet.
Charles shifts, uncomfortable.
Ian grips the hilt of his blade a little tighter.
Yyvone's threads twitch like nerves.
Sonia looks down at her hands.
Osei blinks slowly.
Henry just stares forward.
And then...
Jack laughs.
It's not loud. But it's knowing.
> Jack:
"Avia really has a sense of humor, huh?"
They look at him, confused.
> Jack (grinning):
"We left Earth thinking the truth was out here. In the stars. The realms. The artifacts. The systems."
(He steps forward, hands in pockets, posture casual but eyes burning with realization.)
"But it was always there. Buried in the mess. In the broken roads. The beatdowns. The quiet moments where we almost gave up."
> Henry (smiling):
"That old fried rice spot I used to skip lunch money for... Bet it's still there."
> Sonia:
"I wonder if my old school counselor still hangs around... I owe her some honesty."
> Osei (softly):
"...Mom's grave. I think it's time I stopped walking past it."
> Kennedy:
"Back to where I got my first 'No.' Back to where I built my first imaginary world."
> Yyvone:
"Maybe my old orphanage needs healing... like I do."
> Ian:
"Guess I'll find Dad... even if he never wanted to be found."
---
> Kainen:
"Then go. Remember who you were. So Avia can meet who you're becoming."
> Aprexion (vanishing in a flicker of concept):
"The next level of authenticity is not in power. It's in permission... to be whole."
---
As they prepare for departure, the gym grows quiet again.
But not heavy this time.
More like...
Hopeful.
Like something ancient is waiting back home, just to say:
"Welcome back."
[Earth – Ghana, Accra outskirts. Late afternoon. The sky was overcast, as if even the clouds were holding their breath. Osei Jerry walked through his old neighborhood, unnoticed. Not because he wasn't seen—but because his Avian compression made his divine presence feel… mundane.]
He stood at the gate of a modest house. Brown rust on the edges. A familiar creak when he pushed it open. The smell—jollof from a distant home, wet dust, and the ache of nostalgia.
He stepped in.
The door was still the same. He hesitated before touching the knob… then turned it.
The door opened.
Empty.
Silence. Heavy. Honest. Brutal.
> Osei (softly, walking in):
"Mom... I'm home."
But the walls didn't answer.
Only the old ceiling fan squeaked, spinning lazily like it too was tired of pretending.
He stood there in the middle of the room, looking around. Dust on the table. Her old kente cloth still on the armrest. A bowl, half-cleaned. The chair where she'd hum soft tunes when she thought he wasn't listening.
> Osei (half-laugh, half-ache):
"So... guess I'm staying alone."
He collapsed onto the couch. Turned on the TV. Flipped through channels. Static. Cartoons. News. Documentaries.
Everything felt like nothing.
Hours passed.
The sun faded, and the lights from outside painted strips of shadow through the window. He had almost dozed off when—
Knock.
Slow. Heavy. Familiar.
Osei froze.
Another knock.
He got up. Heart thudding for the first time in forever.
He opened the door—
And there he stood.
Nelson. His father.
The man was taller than he remembered. A little grayer. Eyes that carried bags and regrets. Wearing a plain shirt, torn at the collar. And guilt, heavy in his shoulders.
They stared.
No words.
Until—
> Nelson:
"...You've grown."
> Osei (flat):
"You haven't."
> Nelson:
"I… I didn't know you'd come back. I thought you were in the... sky?"
> Osei:
"I am. But sometimes the sky falls when it misses the ground."
Awkward silence.
> Nelson (rubbing his hands):
"I didn't come here to— I just... I heard. You came back. I wanted to see you."
> Osei:
"Why? So you can run again when I blink?"
> Nelson:
"No. I ran once. And I've been running ever since. Away from myself. From your mom. From you."
Osei looked away. His Avia flickered.
> Osei:
"She waited for you. Even in her last breath. You know that?"
> Nelson (quietly):
"I know."
Silence again. This time, it wasn't awkward.
It was loaded.
Real.
Then—
> Osei (with a bitter chuckle):
"You know... I don't need your apology. I'm not here to forgive. I just came back to remember."
> Nelson:
"And did you?"
> Osei:
"Yeah."
He looked at his dad. Really looked.
> Osei:
"I remember why I hated you. But also... why I needed you."
> Nelson (voice trembling):
"And now?"
Osei stepped outside. Stared at the stars barely peeking through the clouds.
> Osei:
"Now? I'm trying to figure out if I'm supposed to stay angry... or just let you be human."
> Nelson (voice cracked):
"Let me earn it. Let me try."
> Osei:
"You're late."
> Nelson:
"But I'm here."
They both stood there.
Not hugging.
Not yelling.
Just existing in the same space for the first time in a long time.
> Osei (softly, almost to himself):
"Maybe that's enough for tonight."
[Earth — Downtown Café, late morning. The chimes on the glass door jingled as Sonia stepped inside.]
The place hadn't changed. That same modern-boho setup with overpriced pancakes and fake smiles. The scent of cinnamon lattes and betrayal lingered.
She saw her.
Janet.
Hair dyed like she reinvented herself. New earrings. Same soulless smirk.
Sonia's fists loosened. She wasn't here to fight.
She was here… to feel.
She walked over, slow and deliberate, her boots echoing like poetic judgment.
Tapped her shoulder.
Janet jolted, nearly baptized herself with her almond milk latte.
> Sonia (smirking):
"Didn't mean to startle you. Oh wait—maybe I did."
Janet turned. Rolled her eyes. That fake laugh dripping with condescension.
> Janet:
"Well, look who crawled out the asylum. Sonia the Saint of Sentiment. You missed a lot. James and I are doing great, by the way."
> Sonia (tilting her head):
"You always liked broken boys. Easier to manipulate when they think you're the fix."
> Janet (raising a brow):
"Tch. You're still dramatic. Did the meds wear off? Or did the pity party end and you weren't invited?"
Sonia leaned in. No anger. No venom.
Just... stillness.
> Sonia (calm, raw):
"I don't need help, Janet.
I just needed to feel… without walls."
Janet blinked. Her smirk faltered. Because deep down, she knew those words carried weight.
> Sonia (stepping back):
"You mocked me for crying, for feeling too much. You shamed me into silence and called it 'tough love.'"
> Janet (trying to regain control):
"You were unstable. You needed boundaries."
> Sonia (soft, firm):
"No, I needed friends who didn't use my pain as a punchline."
The air was tense. Even the barista stopped foaming milk.
Sonia smiled—not the forced one, not the old mask. The real one. Wounded, but wide awake.
> Sonia:
"You can keep James. If he wanted love in chains, he found the right jailer.
But me? I've rebuilt myself in colors you'll never see."
She turned.
Took one last sip of truth.
> Sonia (before walking out):
"Enjoy your coffee. Bitterness suits you."
[Earth – Kennedy's Apartment, 2:17PM
The door creaked like it recognized him.
Dust motes floated midair like tiny memories, unmoved by the fourth-dimensional visitor.
The walls were still plastered with animation sketches, color-coded timelines, ideas once blooming with ambition.
And then...
That painting.
Gilo. The first dream that breathed.
Kennedy stood still. The air thick with what could've been.
> Kennedy (soft chuckle):
"Still smiling, huh? Even after they erased you."
He placed a hand on the frame. A flash—his Affinity flickered. Syntax warbled around him, as if Gilo's essence still rippled within.
Then, the TV.
The broadcast blared with the kind of pomp only corporate betrayal could wear.
Coda Studios presents: The Genius Behind the Future – Felix Morgen.
That face.
That smile.
Felix, the silver-tongued thief. The man who wore Kennedy's ideas like a tailored suit.
> Felix (on screen):
"At Coda, we don't just create worlds. We build futures."
Kennedy blinked.
His fingers twitched. Reality in the room glitched—his coffee table briefly turned into a storyboard. His chair spoke in Gilo's voice for a second.
> Kennedy (to himself):
"Redan wanted blood. I almost gave it to him.
But Gilo wouldn't've wanted that. He wasn't built from revenge…"
He looked at the sketch of Redan, The voice that whispers when justice feels delayed.
> Kennedy (bitter laugh):
"Felix… you didn't just steal a project. You rewrote my voice.
But I've evolved, man.
My framework's divine now. And your foundation? It's made of lies and pixels."
He pulled out an old flash drive—the one he hid behind the mirror.
Plugged it into his pocket console. A pulse of Avian code fused with Devia adaptation.
> Kennedy (grinning):
"Let's see what happens when you try to air a lie inside a truth-tuned reality zone."
The lights dimmed. The walls began adjusting.
Reality was Kennedy's stage now.
And the encore?
Was coming.
[Earth – Charles' Apartment, Near the Old Train Station, 5:43PM]
The door opened with a quiet creak, like it too had aged gracefully.
Inside, it was warm. Not because of the heating, but because of him.
His father—sitting by the lamp-lit table, tinkering with that old analog watch he'd been trying to fix for years.
When Charles walked in, time didn't just pause—it compacted.
Every suppressed moment, every sleepless night, every "what if" and "I should've" dissolved.
> Charles' Father (smiling, eyes misty):
"So... you came back.
And you've changed... I can feel it. Not just the glow—your rhythm's cleaner."
Charles didn't speak.
He simply walked over and embraced him.
Not just a hug—a sync.
His code flickered gently, lines of unspoken love weaving into that shared moment like elegant scripts.
> Charles (softly):
"You're alive... because I didn't give in. Because of Avia."
His father gave a knowing nod, gripping his shoulder.
> Charles' Father:
"And you were always meant to be more than efficient, son.
You once told me 'logic is the architecture of trust.'
I see now… you've built more than just programs—you've built people. Yourself included."
He gestured to the broken watch.
> Charles' Father:
"I never fixed this thing.
But you?
You fixed something in this world...
And in yourself."
Charles smiled—a rare kind. The kind that wasn't trying to prove anything.
He sat down beside him.
> Charles:
"You know...
A good coder doesn't just fix problems…
He prevents them."
His father chuckled.
> Charles' Father:
"Exactly what I used to tell you. And you remembered."
---
At that moment, Charles' Affinity pulsed quietly—Sigil Surge.
The furniture glowed faintly. Runes embedded in the coffee cup.
Even the watch... hummed softly, ticking again.
> Charles (looking at it):
"Looks like we both fixed something after all."
Outside the Orphanage | Dusk | Soft wind, sky weeping lavender]
Yyvone stood there, clutching the edges of her jacket like she was trying to hug herself tighter than the world ever had.
The orphanage door felt miles away. Her heart? Even farther.
That building didn't just hold memories—it echoed abandonment. It was the place she thought she'd heal, but instead…
she got handed over to silence.
> Yyvone (whispers, shaky):
"They left me in that hospital like I was a misplaced file... like a thread that didn't belong in the pattern. I was just... pain with legs."
And then—footsteps.
From around the corner came Nurse Elda.
Gray coat, clipboard in hand, and the same awkward smile she wore back when she used to check Yyvone's pulse without checking her soul.
She froze.
> Nurse Elda (stammering):
"Y-Yyvone...? You're… walking? My God, you—how are you—?"
Yyvone didn't answer. She just stared.
Her healing threads were pulsing gently beneath her sleeves. But it wasn't time to heal others right now.
Elda's smile faded.
> Nurse Elda (nervous chuckle):
"You look… strong now. That's… that's good. We didn't think you'd come back. I-I mean, we hoped you would but—"
> Yyvone (cutting her off, voice raw):
"You hoped I wouldn't remember."
Elda flinched.
Silence.
> Yyvone:
"That night… when I fell down the stairs.
You didn't even run.
And when the ghoul tried to claim me...
I was already half-corrupted—not by him, but by what you all didn't say.
You wanted to give up on me.
I was a burden to you."
Elda's hand trembled.
> Nurse Elda (softly):
"It… it wasn't like that, Yyvone. We just… we didn't know how to help you. You kept getting worse. You wouldn't talk. We thought maybe a... facility could... do better—"
> Yyvone:
"No one tried, Elda.
And now you're trying to 'explain' because you think the walking girl is your forgiveness card?"
Silence again.
A bird flew by, cutting the tension in the sky for a second.
> Yyvone (voice cracking, but fierce):
"You didn't break me, Elda.
You just proved that sometimes the place meant to shelter you becomes the reason you build walls."
Her threads flickered in the air—soft blue.
They wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl of self-made safety.
> Yyvone:
"I didn't come back to punish you... I came to forgive myself for being abandoned."
Elda's lip quivered.
A tear finally fell—but not Yyvone's.
Yyvone turned around.
> Yyvone (without looking back):
"Tell the others... I walk now.
And my thread?
It's stitched from scars."
Ghana Combat Arena | Twilight Gold Skies | Wind howling like drums of past victories]
The arena was as huge and unforgiving as Ian remembered.
It hadn't changed—not one bit.
The same red stone floors, the same crowd seats that once held judgment, applause, and disappointment.
And in the center?
A boy once called "Sword Rebel."
But now—he was no boy.
> Ian (soft grin):
"Back where the blade first bent… but didn't break."
Just then—footsteps. Fast. Familiar.
Selina Okesi, his mother, draped in her elegant deep gold wrap, her black hair braided into battle curls, ran into the center of the arena and wrapped him in a hug so tight, it cut deeper than any sword ever could.
> Selina (choking):
"I know you visited a few weeks ago, but I couldn't… I just—
I couldn't let it happen again. You vanishing."
> Ian (chuckling softly):
"I didn't vanish. I just stepped where the world wasn't looking."
They held each other.
For a moment, the arena was a sanctuary.
---
After a while, Ian sat down on the old stone bench near the edge of the field. The same one his father used to sharpen his swords on.
He could still see the marks.
The dents.
The weight of legacy.
His father's voice echoed in the wind...
> Nathan Okesi (memory):
"You're stronger than the glass, Ian...
Now you can slice it into pieces."
Ian closed his eyes.
He always thought it meant cutting through others.
But now… he understood.
> Ian (to himself):
"He didn't mean to destroy.
He meant... clarity.
He meant slicing through my own illusions...
My fear. My doubt.
My hesitation."
He stood up, unsheathed his blade.
And without warning—SLASH—
He sliced through the air so cleanly the wind shivered.
His Horizon Slash glowed faintly, responding not just to power—but self-awareness.
> Ian (smiling):
"I used to want to escape my name.
Now?
I carry it."
As he turned to leave, the arena no longer looked intimidating.
It looked... like a story that had finally turned the page.
Old Garage in Ghana | Dim light flickering | Electric hums like whispers from forgotten dreams]
Henry rushes in like lightning—his hands crackling faintly with electric residue.
Straight to the shelf of rusted bolts and broken boards, where his childhood inventions once lay in ruin.
But they weren't ruined anymore.
Everything...
Fixed.
Polished.
Buzzing quietly like they'd been waiting for him.
> Henry (confused):
"Nah… I didn't do this. Unless my past self got future me to rewind time again…"
He turned.
And there he was.
Standing like he was always part of the background...
Grandpa Kofi.
Except this time… dude was in a glowing celestial robe—etched in sigils that shimmered with both stars and silence.
> Henry (backing up):
"Yo grandpa… either you joined a cult or you upgraded your style."
> Grandpa Kofi (smirking):
"Style? Boy, I am the style. You just catching up."
> Henry:
"Wait—what's going on here? Are you... in cosplay?"
Kofi walked forward, tapping his staff gently on the floor.
A pulse of dream-light surged through the ground, resonating with Henry's core.
> Grandpa Kofi (serious now):
"I never told you the full story, Henry…
When I said I saw the Creation Stone grant Valitor his powers—
That was only part of the truth."
Henry's brows scrunched.
> Henry:
"Part? How do you half-see godlike empowerment??"
> Kofi:
"Because that wasn't the stone that chose me...
I wasn't chosen by Creation.
I was chosen… by The Dream Stone."
> Henry (mind glitching):
"...The what now???"
> Kofi (grinning like a kid who snuck into a movie set):
"A stone that doesn't give you what you want…
It gives you what you need.
It's rare. Ethereal. Elusive.
It listens not to ambition—but to lack. To longing. To destiny unfulfilled."
Henry blinked twice.
> Henry:
"So... you wished to become an Airien knight... from Earth???"
> Kofi (matter-of-factly):
"I always wanted to be part of the mythos, boi! I even used to write letters to King Centron.
Didn't know the stone was listening."
> Henry (laughing in disbelief):
"So you manifested yourself into the Airien lore... with dream logic???"
> Kofi (with that grandpa wisdom tone):
"Sometimes, to belong, you gotta dream louder than the noise of rejection.
I dreamed myself into a world I believed in.
And now I'm here to help you do the same."
Henry took a breath.
Everything—his weird electrical instincts, his knack for understanding power pulses, his unnatural sync with Avia—
It made sense now.
He was never just some kid who stumbled into power.
He was descended from a Dreamer who made his way in.
> Henry (charging his palms):
"Guess it runs in the voltage."
> Kofi (chuckling):
"That's my boy."
---
The Dream Stone.
An entity unknown to most realms.
Not aligned with Avia, Corruption, or Devia.
Not even bound by logic or myth.
It's a wild card.
A narrative outlier.
And now, Henry's legacy is tied to it.
Jack's Childhood Home | The aroma of Jollof dancing in the air like memories revived]
The moment Jack opened the door, it hit him like a wave of home.
That spicy, smoky scent of Cindy's jollof, perfected over years of kitchen mastery and motherly love.
Even his soul perked up like it remembered the taste before his tongue did.
There she was, apron still tomato-stained at the edges like some ceremonial relic.
Back turned.
Still humming to the same 90s gospel track she never remembered the name of.
> Cindy (without turning):
"If it's the wind again trying to play with my door, I told you I've got holy oil now—"
(pause... the footsteps... they're too familiar)
"Wait..."
She turned.
Eyes locked.
Heartbeat stuttered.
> Cindy (softly):
"Jack...? You're back?"
(wipes her hands on her apron, already tearing up)
"I thought after you visited weeks ago, maybe the world pulled you too far away again..."
But Jack didn't say anything.
He just moved in.
Wrapped his arms around her like time was something he could fight with a hug.
> Jack (his voice trembling slightly):
"I missed you."
> Cindy (hugging tighter):
"Oh, Jack... I missed you too, my boy. Avia itself couldn't have carried more warmth than this moment."
They stood there in silence.
The jollof rice sizzled in the background like the world knew not to interrupt.
After a while, she pulled away, motioned toward the kitchen.
> Cindy (cheerfully nosy now):
"Sit down, sit down—you still like the smoky bits at the bottom, eh? And tell me everything. What's going on in those magic clouds of yours?"
Jack chuckled, sitting down like a kid again.
> Jack:
"It's... a lot. Traxis, Devia, the students—everything's changing, Mom.
Avia's shifting. People are doubting. Even me…"
> Cindy (playfully squinting):
"Even you? Mr. Analysis Eyes? If you're shaken, then the sky might as well fall."
She stirred the rice with one hand and reached into a cabinet with the other, like multitasking wisdom was her superpower.
> Cindy:
"The Creation Stone's been stopping by, dropping hints like it's my old friend Kwabena from church.
It said you're walking a path that'll test not just your strength—but your softness too.
But you already know that."
> Jack (quietly):
"I don't know if I'm ready."
> Cindy (serving him a bowl, smiling warmly):
"Avia never wanted perfection, Jack. Just honesty.
It's doing better than any parent ever could... because it knows you.
But even so... I'm still here.
And I know you too."
She sat across him, wiping a little tear from her eye.
> Cindy:
"Now eat. Before this jollof uses its Avian Affinity to vanish."
Jack laughed.
For the first time in a while…
He felt anchored again.
Back home.
Back where Avia and love cooked in the same pot.