Leon floated in the quiet between stars, listening as the woman wearing his mother's face finally decided he wasn't going to figure it out on his own.
Her confused stare softened into something closer to resigned patience, and she raised a hand as if guiding a particularly slow student through their first steps.
"Let's try this a different way," she said. "What do you know about a parallel line?"
He blinked.
Of all the things he expected, elementary geometry wasn't on the list. Still, he answered.
"Lines that never meet."
Her face brightened instantly. She even clapped, like a pre-grade teacher proud that a child managed to add without counting on their fingers.
"Good. Exactly. Now hold onto that."
Leon stared.
She continued before he could complain.
"I told you the altars act as time machines. They send trial takers into Pandora's past. Every time someone clears a trial, they affect that past, yet the Trial world, the future of Pandora you know, never changes. Why?"
