The hazy undercity sprawled out before them, a labyrinth of flickering neon lights, towering structures patched together with rusted metal, and endless alleyways bathed in the dim glow of electric signage. The air was thick with the scent of burning fuel and fried street food, a chaotic mix that clung to the damp concrete streets. Kite and Rad walked side by side, navigating through the bustle of late-night crowds while Ray hovered silently above them, his cybernetic eyes scanning their surroundings with quiet detachment.

“What do you mean the bracelets don’t accept me?” Kite’s voice rang out, sharp with frustration, as he threw out his hands dramatically. The onyx bracelets on his wrists glimmered in the neon glow, their mystic engravings faintly pulsating with dormant power, as if mocking him.

The bracelet on his left wrist was iron-clad, sleek, and heavy, its crimson glow faint but present, like dying embers waiting to be reignited. It was slightly heavier than its counterpart, a burden Kite could feel pressing against his bones.

The right bracelet, however, was more intricate, engraved with golden web-like filigree that caught the light like strands of silk. Despite its delicate appearance, it was just as formidable, humming softly against his skin.

Rad let out a low chuckle, adjusting the grocery bags in his grip. “Have you tried asking nicely? Maybe they’re just shy?” He smirked, his voice dripping with mockery.

Kite groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny, Rad.” He scowled at the bracelets, shaking his wrists as if to jolt them into working.

Ray, meanwhile, remained expressionless, his smooth white-and-black robotic frame untouched by the flickering lights around him. He hovered just a few feet off the ground, arms crossed as he observed Kite’s struggles with quiet amusement.

“Because those bracelets are possessed,” Ray stated, his voice carrying its usual calm, mechanical detachment.

Kite froze mid-step, blinking in confusion before whipping his head toward Ray. “Huh? Possessed?” His brow furrowed, his frustration momentarily replaced with intrigue.

Ray nodded before continuing, “By the two gods named Shango and Anansi.” Kite and Rad exchanged glances, their expressions mirroring the same mix of curiosity and concern.

“Gods?” Kite lifted his wrist, inspecting the intricate markings with renewed interest. “Is that why that kid from earlier was so powerful?”

Rad’s smirk faltered slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he considered Kite’s words. “Wait—doesn’t that mean the bracelets are cursed in some way?”

Ray simply nodded, his voice remaining eerily composed as he floated beside them. “If I am correct, those bracelets have been around for at least a couple of millennia… maybe longer.”

Kite’s eyes widened slightly, his earlier frustration melting into awe as he turned his gaze back to the priceless relics strapped to his wrists. “Whoa… that’s so cool!” he practically beamed, his excitement bouncing off the neon-lit storefronts as they passed a crowded restaurant teeming with chimera patrons.

Rad, however, was less enthused. “If that’s the case, then how the hell did they end up in that kid’s hands?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Did he just stumble across them in an alley or something?”

Ray took a long pause, his glowing eyes narrowing slightly as he tilted his head. A faint mechanical whir emitted from within his body, a telltale sign that his mind was searching through the countless universes he could perceive. Then, finally, he spoke.

“The child is royalty.” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, but the weight of the revelation landed like a bomb. “Born into a family filled with warriors and gods.” Rad and Kite stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes going wide.

“Wait, what!?” Kite nearly shouted, his body snapping toward Ray. “Royalty?” Rad muttered, his disbelief evident as he ran a hand through his hair.

Kite threw his hands in the air, gesturing wildly to his bracelet-clad wrists. “W-wait, hold on now—if that kid is royalty, then why the heck did he just hand these over to me like they were nothing!?” His voice cracked slightly, his panic growing.

Ray, ever the picture of calm certainty, answered without hesitation. “Because they are cursed.”

Kite felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple as he stared at Ray, mouth agape. Ray continued, unfazed. “All who wield those bracelets suffer various symptoms.”

Kite’s stomach twisted at the word symptoms. “Huh!?” he yelped, instinctively pulling his arms closer to his body as if that would somehow protect him.

Rad, meanwhile, let out a low snicker. “Damn, Kite’s gonna die just when I was starting to like him.” His voice was casual, but there was a flicker of genuine concern beneath the teasing.

Kite spun to face him, looking utterly betrayed. “This ain’t no laughing matter, Rad!” He then turned back to Ray, his eyes pleading, his hands clasped together in desperation. “Come on, Ray, give it to me straight—what are the symptoms?”

Ray’s lips curled slightly, the faintest hint of amusement playing at the edges of his normally stoic expression. “The symptoms are…” He paused dramatically, letting the tension build.

Kite gulped audibly, his pulse hammering. “An inclination towards violence, impulsiveness, decreased fear, and…” Ray trailed off again, his cybernetic eyes narrowing slightly, dragging out the suspense.

“Ray!” Kite all but screeched, his voice echoing down the street, drawing mildly concerned glances from passersby.

Ray’s smirk deepened, a mischievous glint in his starry eyes as he gave the lie. “And the loss of taste buds.”

The world might as well have stopped spinning. Kite went dead silent, his expression twisting from shock to horror in a matter of seconds.

“Wait… but that means…” His voice faltered, his gaze snapping to the grocery bags Rad carried. His mom’s home-cooked meals. The taste of ice cream. His favorite snacks.

Every food he loved—gone forever. Kite’s legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed dramatically to his knees, his hands shooting into the air in utter despair.

The bracelets glinted mockingly in the neon lights as his anguished voice rang out: “NOOOOO!” His wail of sorrow echoed through the undercity streets, causing a few people to stop and stare before hurriedly walking in the opposite direction.

Rad burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Come on, Kite, the symptoms aren’t that bad,” he teased, still laughing.

Ray watched with a faint smirk, though his own amusement was tinged with something quieter—something knowing. Because, in the end… it didn’t matter.

Ray turned his gaze toward the distant skyline of the undercity, his fingers twitching slightly as he thought to himself. That kid will get the bracelets back in a few years anyway.

His expression darkened slightly, the mirth in his gaze replaced with something else entirely. A knowing, inevitable sorrow.

The rundown kitchen was a chaotic symphony of sizzling pans, bubbling sauces, and the rhythmic clatter of utensils. The countertops were cluttered with spice jars, half-used ingredients, and the occasional dish waiting to be cleaned. The old stovetop hissed and crackled, its burners glowing a faint orange as Mira whirled around the kitchen, moving with the precision of a seasoned chef and the speed of a whirlwind.

The faint yellowing of the kitchen tiles and the scratches on the wooden cabinets told of years of use, of countless meals prepared in this very space. The faint scent of herbs and spices clung to the walls, mixing with the rich aroma of buttery eggs and sizzling meats. A dented metal fan spun lazily above, barely keeping up with the warmth radiating from the stove.

Mira, moving as if she had done this dance a thousand times before, cracked eggs effortlessly over a large, well-worn frying pan, the thick golden yolks oozing into the melting butter, creating swirls of yellow and white as they combined. The edges of the eggs crisped slightly, a rich golden brown forming as she gave the pan a quick flick, ensuring nothing stuck.

She worked with fluidity and grace, her hands a blur as she tossed a pinch of salt, a dash of pepper, and a sprinkle of vibrant red paprika into the pan, the seasonings melting into the sizzling mixture. The aromatic explosion of spices filled the air, wrapping the entire room in the warm, mouthwatering scent of home-cooked perfection.

On the counter, a steaming pot of rice rested, each grain fluffy and perfectly separated, the gentle fragrance of jasmine rising with the steam. Next to it, a plate stacked with golden-brown meat glistened under the kitchen lights, its surface coated in a layer of glossy, caramelized sauce that dripped slightly onto the plate.

Mira, completely in her element, even took the time to juggle a wooden spoon, a spatula, and a pepper grinder effortlessly in the air, catching them in quick succession before whistling a cheerful tune. Rad watched in complete awe, his mouth slightly agape as his eyes flickered between Mira’s impossibly fast movements and the masterpiece of a meal coming together before him.

His stomach growled at the sight of the food, but he was too impressed to even comment. She does it so effortlessly! Rad thought to himself, his eyes darting across the kitchen, barely keeping up with her speed and finesse.

Even Ray was impressed as he hovered silently beside Rad, his glowing cybernetic eyes reflecting the vibrant energy radiating from the kitchen. The sizzling of oil, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, and the crackle of spices meeting the heat filled the air with a tantalizing aroma that even he could appreciate. His optics flickered slightly as he observed Mira’s rapid, near-impossible movements, effortlessly flipping a pan with one hand while seasoning a bubbling pot with the other.

She’s an even crazier cook than Aunt Laura was. Ray thought to himself, his normally impassive expression betraying a hint of amusement. He had witnessed skilled cooks before—his Aunt Laura herself was no stranger to whipping up a meal with flair—but Mira? Mira was in an entirely different league.

Meanwhile, just outside the kitchen, Dorian stood with his back turned to the culinary chaos, completely unfazed by the clatter of utensils and the high flames licking at the pan. He held the crumpled note in one hand, scanning the list one last time as he faced Kite, who practically buzzed with excitement. The two of them were completely accustomed to Mira’s over-the-top cooking style, treating the whirlwind of action behind them as nothing more than background noise.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dorian said, his deep voice cutting through the hum of the kitchen as he eyed Kite over the top of the note. The warm neon glow from the undercity flickered through the nearby window, casting a soft, golden light onto the room. The scents of seared meat, butter, and spices wrapped around them like an invisible embrace, thick and rich with flavor.

Kite, standing at full attention, rocked on the balls of his feet, eager to prove himself. “You got the cooking oil, eggs, rice, spices, and organic butter like I asked?” Dorian continued, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

Kite nodded quickly, holding up the slightly wrinkled receipt like a trophy. His green pupils gleamed under the warm kitchen lights as he grinned ear to ear. “Mhm! Got everything on there!” he said proudly, puffing out his chest.

Dorian smirked, letting out a small, approving chuckle before raising a hand. “Atta boy.”

With a swift motion, Kite eagerly slapped his palm against his father’s in a solid high-five, the satisfying smack echoing briefly over the sounds of the kitchen. Kite laughed gleefully, the warmth of the moment melting into the bubbling chaos that was Mira’s cooking.

The hiss of a perfectly seared cut of meat, the occasional flick of Mira’s wrist sending ingredients soaring through the air before landing precisely where they needed to be, it was all a symphony, a masterpiece in motion. The laughter, the heat, the rhythmic clatter of the kitchen, and the smell of home-cooked food all melded into a single, harmonious moment—one that felt undeniably, irreplaceably alive.

The sounds of clinking silverware and ceramic plates echoed softly through the room, mingling with the quiet hum of the ceiling fan that flickered above them. The table was set simply, but the meal before them was anything but ordinary.

At the center of each plate sat a generous serving of egg-fried rice, its golden grains glistening from the melted butter that had been carefully folded in. Fluffy yet perfectly crisp in places, the rice was studded with bits of caramelized onion and flecks of vibrant green scallions, their aroma mingling harmoniously with the rich, savory scent of soy sauce and toasted sesame oil.

Soft scrambled eggs were delicately woven throughout, their silky texture contrasting beautifully with the gentle crunch of seared vegetables. Beside the rice lay thick slices of meat, their deep, golden-brown crust glistening under the kitchen lights. The surface of each cut was lacquered in a sticky, umami-rich glaze, a perfect balance of sweet and savory that clung to the tender flesh.

The caramelized outer edges promised a satisfying bite, while the juicy, marinated interior all but melted at the press of a fork. Wisps of fragrant steam curled up from each plate, filling the air with a comforting warmth that made even Ray pause for a moment, silently taking it all in.

“You know, Mira, you really outdid yourself this time,” Dorian said, his voice rich with appreciation as he took a bite, the flavors immediately grounding him in the familiar warmth of home.

Kite, practically vibrating with excitement, wasted no time digging in. Scooping up a heaping spoonful of rice, he hummed in satisfaction before turning to Ray, holding the spoon out to him with an eager grin. “Yeah, the food’s really good, Mom!”

Ray hovered beside him with a frown, arms crossed, his glowing cybernetic eyes flickering between Kite and the offered spoon. His fingers twitched slightly before he finally gave in, taking a small bite. He chewed slowly, the flavors unfolding across his artificial palate, salty, savory, just a hint of sweetness from the glaze on the meat.

After a moment of contemplation, he nodded. “It is tasty,” he admitted, his voice quiet but sincere.

Mira beamed, her emerald green eyes glinting beneath the dim, flickering light. “Aw, thanks, everyone. I’m glad you all like my cooking,” she said warmly, her voice carrying the pride of someone who had spent years perfecting her craft.

Yet, amidst the cheerful atmosphere, Rad remained silent, his spoon moving slower than the others. He ate hesitantly, each bite measured, as if part of him couldn’t quite let himself enjoy it. The gleeful chatter of Kite and Mira filled the space, their voices a steady hum of warmth, but Rad sat in contrast—present, yet withdrawn.

Dorian, ever observant, caught the hesitation. He turned to the quiet boy, his voice gentle but firm. “Your name’s Rad, right?”

At the sound of his name, Rad stopped mid-bite, his shoulders stiffening as he quickly swallowed. “Y-yeah,” he answered, forcing a sheepish smile, trying to appear as casual as possible despite the sudden attention.

Dorian studied him for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. “That’s a nice name, Rad.” His tone was genuine, carrying no judgment, only sincerity.

Rad blinked, as if unsure how to respond to something so simple yet unexpectedly kind. Before the moment could stretch into awkwardness, Dorian turned to Kite, shifting the conversation. "How’s the school project coming along? You two getting along with the baby?”

Mira perked up at that. “Oh yeah! You haven’t told us what you’ve been up to lately, Kite.”

Kite chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Oh… uh, yeah…” A sheepish grin spread across his face as he scrambled to filter through his recent experiences. Probably shouldn’t tell them about the vampires…

“Me, Ray, and my friends,” he said, gesturing toward Rad, “went on like… a scavenger hunt for guitar pieces.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow as he took another bite. “Guitar pieces?”

Kite nodded eagerly, stuffing a spoonful of rice into his mouth before continuing. “Mhm! I think they were possessed or something, though, ‘cause, like, after I pieced them back together, this weird ghost guy came out of the guitar.”

Rad, finally speaking up, added, “Yeah. I think his name was Orion Vance or something.”

Mira and Dorian exchanged puzzled glances. “Orion Vance?” Mira repeated, her brow furrowing.

“You haven’t heard of him?” Rad asked, surprised. “He’s supposed to be some legendary guitarist.”

Dorian shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think they ever taught us about him in school.”

“Not that your father ever paid attention in class,” Mira teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Kite’s eyes widened with excitement. “No way! You two went to school together? That’s so cool!”

Dorian chuckled as he nodded. “Yup. Though me and your mother didn’t always get along so well.”

Mira groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes. “He was always so loud and obnoxious,” she sighed. “Not to mention he was constantly getting into arguments with the teacher.”

“Hey now, it’s not my fault Mr. Coswald’s class was at seven in the morning,” Dorian shot back nonchalantly. “Maybe if I’d gotten more sleep, I’d have been more Inclined to do his surprise pop quizzes.”

Mira scoffed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “You say that like it was the teacher’s fault, Dorian! And the quizzes only had five questions!”

Kite and Rad leaned in, intrigued by the glimpse into their past. Even Ray, ever the stoic observer, hovered slightly closer, arms still crossed but clearly listening.

Dorian sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “They were hard questions.”

Mira erupted into laughter, pointing an accusing finger at him. “The quizzes were multiple choice, and you somehow always bombed them!” Her laughter was infectious, causing Rad and Kite to join in, their chuckles mixing with the warmth of the kitchen.

Dorian smirked, leaning back in his chair as he folded his arms. “Whoa, Dad,” Kite said between laughs, wiping a tear from his eye. “I didn’t know you were once a troublemaker.”

Dorian’s smile softened, his tone shifting ever so slightly. “Yeah, well… I didn’t always make the best decisions back then.”

Something in the air shifted. The lightheartedness of the conversation dimmed just a little, enough for Rad to notice. He tilted his head, his voice quieter than before. “Really?” he asked. "You don’t seem like that kind of person…”

Mira’s laughter faded, and her expression became more subdued. She glanced at Dorian, as if waiting to see how he’d answer.

Dorian exhaled slowly before finally speaking. “Well… I used to be in a gang.”

Kite and Rad’s eyes widened. “A gang?” Kite echoed, his spoon frozen midair.

Dorian nodded, his voice quieter now. “Granted, I was at the very bottom in terms of rank, but I sure did have ambitions.” He chuckled, though there was little humor in it.

Rad raised an eyebrow. “So… what happened? I hear the guys at the bottom don’t last very long.”

Dorian sighed, his fingers tightening slightly around his fork. “I was one of the lucky kids. I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t big, but I was smart. Tech-smart. I could solve almost any problem.”

He paused, the weight of old memories settling over him. “I’d help with breaching security, scouting locations, disabling alarms… But on one of the heists, things went bad. Everyone but me got caught.”

Rad frowned. “Everyone but you?”

Dorian nodded, his jaw tightening. “Since I was the tech guy, I wasn’t in the middle of the action. I got away scot-free… or so I thought.”

He took a slow breath. "A few weeks later, my dad found my gear. He found everything I had hidden. And my dad… just so happened to be the Chief of Police.”

Kite nearly choked. “Wait—what?! You never told me that!”

Dorian chuckled lightly, but there was no real humor in it, just a quiet, exhausted acceptance. “Yeah, well… Me and him don’t have the best relationship anymore,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of years of unresolved pain. He hesitated, exhaling slowly before continuing.

“After my dad found my equipment, he was furious. Threatened to turn me in, even brought out the handcuffs and everything.”

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The memory clung to him, thick and suffocating. Dorian swallowed hard, his fingers subtly clenching around his fork. “But… he couldn’t follow through on it.” His voice wavered, his usually steady demeanor cracking at the edges. His grey eyes glistened faintly under the dim kitchen light. “I remember… he started crying as he handcuffed me. Yelled out every curse in the book.”

His jaw tensed as he stared down at the table, his gaze unfocused, lost in the past. “‘My own son!”’ His voice grew hoarse as he echoed the words that had been burned into his memory. “‘My son is a criminal!’”

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders tightening as if bracing himself for the final blow. “Then finally… he looked me right in the eyes and said—” Dorian’s voice dropped to a whisper, hollow and aching. “‘I failed you.’”

A heavy silence filled the room, suffocating, inescapable. Dorian’s heart clenched, the old wound tearing open just from speaking the words aloud. “But none of his words hurt nearly as much as the ones he said when he told me to leave his house and never come back.”

Rad’s stomach twisted, his arms folding tightly across his chest. So that’s why… he thought, his throat tightening. He went through the same thing…

Dorian took a deep, shaky breath, but it did little to steady the weight pressing against his ribs. “Never saw my father again since that day,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

Mira’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she picked up where he left off. “The next day, I found Dorian dumpster diving for food and scraps.” She swallowed, her emerald eyes dimming as she recalled the sight. “The poor kid was covered in grime, and his face was soaked with tears.”

Dorian nodded, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his plate. “Mira took me in when no one else would have,” he said quietly. His lips twitched into something resembling a smile, though it barely reached his eyes. “I owe her my life, honestly.”

Across the table, Kite’s hands trembled slightly as he gripped his spoon. He struggled to find the right words, his usually bright demeanor dimmed by the weight of his father’s past. “…I’m sorry to hear that, Dad,” he said, his voice soft, almost childlike.

Dorian glanced up, meeting his son’s uncertain gaze. He forced a small smile, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. “It’s fine, Kite,” he reassured him, his voice gentle yet firm. “I learned my lesson, and hopefully… you don’t go down the same path I did.”

Ray’s face remained a blank slate as he watched silently, his expression locked in its usual mechanical stillness as he hovered beside the table, silent and unmoving. His glowing cybernetic eyes reflected the dim kitchen lights, their violet and green hues flickering subtly as he observed the weight of the conversation before him.

The air was thick with emotions, pain, regret, understanding, but Ray’s features betrayed none of it. Yet, if one were to look closely—closer than the casual glance, beyond the cold exterior of polished metal and synthetic skin—they would notice it. A barely perceptible movement.

His cybernetic fingers, so often steady and controlled, twitched. Just once. A minute, involuntary tremor that betrayed something deeper.

His gaze, though distant, wasn’t unfocused. It was fixed, locked onto Dorian with an intensity that bordered on something almost human, an emotion he wouldn’t allow himself to express. His cybernetic white fingers curled ever so slightly before straightening again, as if suppressing a reaction, a memory, a truth he could not voice.

Because deep within Ray’s troubled mind—beneath the logic, beneath the countless calculations and probabilities—there was something else. Something heavier than data. A certainty he wished he could ignore. Because no matter how much Ray tried to push it away, he knew the truth.

A long silence settled over the table, stretching between them like an invisible weight. The only sounds were the faint clinking of utensils against ceramic and the distant hum of the ceiling fan overhead. The warm aroma of the meal still lingered, but the once-lively energy had faded into something quieter, something heavier.

Kite exhaled, staring down at his empty bowl, idly turning his spoon between his fingers before setting it down. “Well, I guess I’ll head to bed now,” he said, his voice carrying a tiredness that wasn’t just from the meal. He rose from his seat, picking up his bowl and placing it in the sink with a practiced motion.

“Goodnight, Kite,” Mira called after him, her voice as gentle as ever.

“Goodnight, son,” Dorian added, his tone steady, but carrying the subtle warmth of a father’s care. Kite turned and waved, flashing one of his signature grins before heading toward the stairs.

Rad watched silently as Kite disappeared, his gaze following him longer than necessary, as if watching him walk away left an odd, hollow feeling behind. Ray, ever silent, hovered through the air to follow Kite, his movements smooth and unhurried—but he was stopped in his tracks by Mira’s soft voice.

“You’re not hungry?” she asked, her tone light, but filled with genuine warmth.

Ray paused mid-air, turning to face her with a slight frown. “No. I am a robot, remember?” His voice was flat, matter-of-fact, a reminder that he was not like them.

Mira only chuckled, reaching into a small bag she had set aside. The soft crinkle of the packaging filled the quiet space before she pulled out a small, sleekly wrapped candy, a solid liquid treat, made specifically for automatons. She held it out with a knowing smile.

“Stay awhile, would you?” she said, her emerald-green eyes gleaming. “I heard automaton children love candy.”

Dorian smirked as he leaned back in his chair. “She made us take a stop on the way home just for that. Honestly, I think she’s taken a liking to you, Ray.”

Ray’s fingers twitched slightly at that—barely noticeable, but to someone as observant as Dorian, it spoke volumes. Something about being addressed directly with kindness, about being acknowledged not as a monster, but as someone still worth caring about, it unsettled something within Ray.

His cybernetic gaze lingered on the candy for a long moment, avoiding Mira’s soft, patient expression. For a second, he considered rejecting the offer. He didn’t need food in this form, nor did he still crave affection the way others did. He shouldn’t care. And yet…

Moments later, he found himself nestled in Mira’s lap, his small, robotic frame cradled in her gentle embrace. Her arms wrapped around him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in ages, her touch was soft as she stroked his head with an absentminded tenderness, as if it were second nature to her.

Every so often, she would press another piece of the blue candy against his lips, and despite himself, Ray accepted it without protest. Rad ate quietly, his eyes flickering toward them every so often, watching the way Mira held Ray with such ease, with love—the kind of love that neither of them had ever truly known.

He chewed slowly, his stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the meal in front of him. Dorian noticed.

“You know, Rad…” Dorian’s voice was softer now, careful, deliberate, as he watched Rad closely. Rad blinked, lifting his head slightly, his spoon pausing midway to his mouth.

“You can stay here as long as you like,” Dorian continued, offering a small smile. “We could always use a helper around the house.”

Rad’s heart skipped a beat. His grip on the spoon tightened slightly as he processed the words. For a moment, he thought he had misheard, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then Mira spoke, her voice just as gentle.

“Yeah,” she murmured, still cradling Ray in her arms, her fingers caressing his head gently. “I’ve always wanted another kid, you know.”

Ray was still, but his expression had changed over time, just the slightest shift, so small it would be easy to miss. His once-sharp, detached gaze had softened, a distant sorrow flickering beneath his emerald-green eye as it faintly glowed with a somber hue. He stared upward, his expression unreadable, his thoughts lost somewhere far away. Drifting to a happier, more carefree time in his life.

Rad, meanwhile, could barely find his voice. His throat tightened, his lips parted, but only hesitation came out. “…A-are you sure?” he asked at last, his voice unsteady, small. “I mean… I was just planning to stay the night, then maybe…”

He trailed off, gripping his arm. His next words were barely a whisper. “I just don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”

Dorian’s expression softened further, his gaze filled with something steady, something reassuring. “You won’t be, Rad,” he said simply. “We’ll take care of you.”

Rad’s breath caught in his throat. The words hit him harder than he ever could have expected. He opened his mouth, as if to respond, but no words came. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped his spoon, his vision blurring just a little.

A single tear slipped past his lashes, falling silently into his bowl. Mira saw it but said nothing, only offering him the same warm, unwavering smile as she gently rocked Ray in her arms. “It’s no problem at all,” she murmured.

An hour would soon pass as Kite sat cross-legged atop his bed, the dim glow of the undercity barely filtering through his curtains, casting long, soft shadows across his cluttered room. His fingers ghosted over the two mystical bracelets encircling his wrists, their weight both physical and unseen, something deeper, something ancient.

The bracelet on his left wrist was a heavy, iron-clad band, its surface smooth but dense with power. Faint, worn engravings traced its edges, archaic symbols carved into the dark metal, pulsing ever so slightly with a deep crimson glow—like dying embers waiting to be reignited.

Along its surface, tiny veins of red lightning crackled, flickering erratically as if restless, eager, alive. The metal was slightly warm to the touch, carrying the residual heat of something far greater than him, the slumbering storm of the Thunder King.

The longer Kite wore it, the more he could feel it, a silent rumble just beneath the surface, as if the bracelet itself was holding back a tempest. The right bracelet was its opposite—delicate in design, yet just as formidable.

Its dark, metallic-like base was intricately woven with golden web-like filigree, strands of enchanted silk captured in a frozen moment of craftsmanship. The fine etchings gleamed under the faintest light, catching every movement like shifting strands of a cosmic web.

Unlike its counterpart, this bracelet hummed softly, a barely perceptible vibration against Kite’s skin. It wasn’t restless, it was waiting, watching, calculating. A whisper of mischief clung to its surface, subtle yet ever-present, biding its time.

Kite swallowed, his fingers tensing around the bracelets. “Come on…” he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his voice. “Why won’t you accept me already?”

His thoughts raced back to earlier, to Ray’s cold, precise words. “Because those bracelets are possessed. By the two gods named Shango and Anansi.” Kite’s stomach twisted as the implications sank in.

Is it because I’m not royalty? Kite thought bitterly, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. The idea gnawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. That’d be pretty crummy… I really got ripped off.

Despite himself, he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Okay… one last time, Just like how Ray probably does it,” Kite whispered, exhaling deeply through his nose. He forced his shoulders to relax, his posture straightening as he closed his eyes.

“Just breathe in… and focus.” The room fell into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside. Kite’s hands rested atop his lap, the cool metal of the bracelets pressing against his skin. He slowed his breathing, letting the tension drain from his body as he concentrated.

For a moment, there was nothing. Just stillness. Then—A faint crackle.

The air around him shifted, charged with an unseen energy. His left bracelet responded first, a thin arc of red lightning dancing along its surface, snapping against the air like static before vanishing. The energy coursed just beneath the metal, a raw, contained force waiting to be unleashed.

Kite’s lips parted slightly as he whispered the words, barely audible, yet heavy with intent. “Tuko Pamoja.”

The response was instantaneous. A blinding flash of yellow and crimson light erupted from his wrists, engulfing the entire room in an ethereal explosion of color. The air vibrated with an untamed power, surging through Kite’s veins, through his very core.

The walls trembled faintly, and for a split second, the weight of something otherworldly pressed down on him, a presence far greater than himself, stirring from its slumber. The bracelets had awakened.

The searing flash of yellow and crimson light faded, leaving Kite gasping as the world slowly came back into focus. His breath was uneven, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The room, once swallowed in darkness, was now humming with an unnatural energy—electricity buzzed in the air, like the aftermath of a distant storm.

As his eyes adjusted, Kite’s body tensed. Two figures now stood at the foot of his bed.

The first was a towering warrior, his frame massive and sculpted like a living monument. His deep brown skin pulsed with raw energy, veins crackling with coursing red lightning that flickered over his muscular arms. His thick, fiery red braids, woven into warrior’s locks, hung over his shoulders like strands of living flame. His eyes burned white-hot, glowing with unyielding power, and his broad chest rose and fell with the weight of restrained fury.

Draped over his powerful frame was a red and white tunic, embroidered with ancient symbols of power and war. A fur-lined black and red cloak billowed behind him, though there was no wind to stir it. His arms were wrapped in white cloth, though lightning danced beneath the bindings, like something struggling to break free.

His black warrior’s trousers were tucked into golden, thunder-etched boots, every step he took sending faint tremors through the floorboards. And behind him, hovering as if awaiting his command, was a massive, double-headed axe, glowing with divine energy. The very air around it shimmered, crackling with caged thunder.

Beside him stood a strikingly different presence—one that carried a sense of calm calculation in stark contrast to the storm incarnate beside her. Her obsidian-black skin gleamed with an iridescent sheen, reflecting light like a spider’s exoskeleton.

Her braided silk hair cascaded over her shoulders, seemingly woven with strands of shimmering webbing that occasionally pulsed with subtle movement. Golden secondary eyes dotted her forehead, giving her an eerie, all-seeing presence. Her slender fingers, adorned with sharp, delicate nails, were folded over her arms as she regarded Kite with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

She wore a flowing black and gold robe, woven from enchanted silk and webbing, its movement as fluid as liquid shadow. A large circular opening on the back allowed her spider sac to protrude, pulsing faintly as if teeming with unseen illusions. A golden belt cinched around her waist, decorated with carved symbols of stories, riddles, and trickster gods.

Her ankle bangles jingled softly, though her movements made no sound. Her expression was unreadable, but a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.

The warrior’s presence was overwhelming, like standing before a raging storm. The woman’s was more subtle, a quiet tension, like the moment before a web tightens.

Kite’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide with astonishment. His breath hitched in his throat as his mind scrambled for words. Lightning crackled angrily around the massive warrior, his fists clenched at his sides, while the woman merely tilted her head, studying him with idle curiosity.

Kite struggled to speak, his words coming out in a stammer. “W-Who—Who are you guys?”

The woman chuckled softly, unfolding her arms. Her voice was layered, as if multiple voices whispered alongside her own.

“I am Anansi, the Trickster Weaver,” she purred, her gaze flicking toward the bracelets on his wrists. “And that impatient storm beside me?” Her golden eyes gleamed mischievously. “That would be Shango, the Thunder King.”

Shango let out a low, dangerous growl, his arms folding across his chest as his blazing white eyes narrowed at Kite. “You dare ask who I am, boy?” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, filled with a barely restrained fury. “You summon gods into your chamber, and you do not even know our names?!”

Kite blinked, still processing the impossible reality in front of him. Then, his awe transformed into uncontained excitement.

“That’s so cool!” he blurted out, practically vibrating. Shango’s glare darkened, his body tensing with irritation. Thunder rumbled through the walls, shaking the very foundation of the house.

“Cool?! COOL?!” The storm god’s fury crackled around him. “Do you even comprehend the gravity of what you have done?! Do you have any idea what these bracelets are?! You are unworthy to wield them, let alone summon ME!”

Kite shrank slightly under the intensity of Shango’s wrath, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh… Sorry?” he muttered sheepishly before perking up. “But why’s that a bad thing?”

Shango’s scowl deepened. “The boy who wore these before you was royalty!” Shango snapped. “He inherited the bracelets from his family, his ancestors! They do not belong to an outsider like you!”

Kite blinked. “Well, if that’s the case, then why’d the kid from before give them away so easily?”

Anansi chuckled, raising a hand to stifle her amusement. “Perhaps we were poor company,” she mused, her smirk widening.

Shango whirled toward her, glaring. “And whose side are you on, Weaver?”

Anansi grinned, her golden eyes gleaming. “My own.”

Kite snickered. “Ha! So you guys bicker a lot?”

“Constantly,” Anansi replied smoothly.

Shango let out an irritated sigh, turning back to Kite. “Enough of this nonsense. If you are to summon us, you must at least understand what you are dealing with.”

Anansi’s smirk faded slightly, her expression growing thoughtful. Kite’s excitement dimmed as he noticed the shift in their demeanor.

“How did you guys end up in these bracelets, anyway?” A long silence stretched between them.

Then—almost at the same time—Shango and Anansi chuckled darkly. “It is a long story,” Anansi mused.

Shango grunted, his white-hot eyes narrowing. “One of hubris and folly.”

Kite’s interest piqued even further, his legs swinging slightly over the bed. “I got time.”

Shango and Anansi exchanged glances before finally beginning their tale—The Duel of Strength and Cunning

Shango’s booming voice filled the room first. “In the time before kings, I and the Trickster Weaver stood at opposing ends of a debate.”

Anansi tilted her head, her silken voice following. “He believed true strength lay in power, battle, and facing one’s enemies head-on.”

Shango nodded firmly. “And she claimed true strength was found in cleverness, deception, and outwitting one’s foes.”

Kite hummed. “So like… brains vs. brawn?”

Shango huffed. “In cruder terms… yes.”

Kite smirked. “I bet Anansi won.”

Shango gritted his teeth, while Anansi laughed musically. “Not so fast, little one. Neither of us won.”

Shango crossed his arms, his eyes glowing fiercely. “Instead, we made a wager.”

“We each created a warrior,” Anansi added, her golden eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

Shango’s voice rumbled like rolling thunder. “My warrior wielded pure strength, capable of crushing entire armies.”

Anansi smirked. “Mine wielded trickery and illusion, defeating any enemy without lifting a blade.”

Kite leaned forward, fascinated. “What happened to them?” Shango and Anansi fell silent for a moment.

Then, together, they said: “They failed.” Shango’s expression darkened, his glowing white-hot eyes narrowing as he folded his arms across his massive chest. Lightning crackled around him, illuminating the room in flashes of crimson and gold.

“The warriors we chose were among the greatest of their time,” Shango began, his voice heavy with remembrance. “But both were consumed… by their own weaknesses.”

Anansi tilted her head, her many golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. “They were legendary once… until their own hubris led them to ruin.”

Kite sat motionless, his previous excitement slowly being replaced with something heavier. Shango’s voice rumbled with power as he spoke first.

“Shujaa.” Shango’s eyes narrowed. “The warrior I chose,” he continued, “was named Shujaa the Indomitable. A colossus of a man, born with the might of a thousand warriors.”

Shango’s fingers flexed, as if he could still feel the weight of his chosen’s strength. “He fought with a will of iron, his fists alone capable of crushing boulders. With every battle, his rage burned brighter, his power greater. He was my finest champion.”

Kite gulped. “What… happened to him?” Shango’s glowing gaze darkened.

“He became too strong. Too reckless. He abandoned reason for fury, allowing Shango’s Wrath to consume him.”

Shango’s hands clenched into fists, arcs of crimson lightning snapping around them. “He razed entire battlefields, seeking war over peace, blood over justice. Until… one day… he became nothing more than an uncontrollable inferno of destruction. His body burned with uncontainable energy—until it could no longer hold itself together.”

Kite’s stomach twisted as he spoke. “…So, what? He just—”

“He exploded.” Shango answered bluntly. A brief Silence soon passed.

Kite blinked, horror creeping up his spine. “Wait. What?!”

Shango nodded grimly. “Shujaa was reduced to nothing but dust and thunder, his soul forever lost.”

Kite swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the bracelets. Anansi’s voice slithered through the silence, soft but sharp.

“And then… there was my champion.” She stepped forward slightly, the golden filigree on her robe shimmering like shifting silk.

“My warrior was Mwizi the Shadow.”

Kite’s brow furrowed. “Mwizi…?” Anansi smirked, though there was a somberness to her tone.

“A genius. A phantom. His mind was sharper than any blade, his tricks deadlier than any army. He never lost a battle.” Anansi stated.

Shango scoffed. “He also never fought his battles.” Anansi’s golden eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was sadness behind them.

“He never had to,” she admitted. “Why fight, when you can turn your enemies against each other? Why strike, when you can vanish into the shadows before the blade even falls?”

Kite felt a chill creep up his spine. “So… what happened to him?”

Anansi’s smirk faded. “He grew too deceptive. Too lost in his illusions.” Her fingers traced over her golden belt, as if remembering something distant. “He tricked even himself.”

Kite’s eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean?”

Anansi’s voice was quiet now, almost… regretful. “He could no longer tell what was real and what was illusion. His mind fractured, his identity lost. He became… nothing.”

Kite’s chest tightened. “You mean he—” Shango finished the sentence.

“He faded into the abyss, lost forever.” Shango spoke. Another silence settled between them.

Kite’s demeanor stiffened, his hands trembling slightly as he stared down at the bracelets on his wrists. The weight of their previous wielders’ failures sank in like stones in his gut.

And then—Anansi’s voice cut through the silence, her smirk returning.

“Well, little one…” she mused, watching Kite’s troubled expression. “Now that you wear the bracelets…”

Kite’s breath hitched. “…we are now permanently tied to your soul.”

Kite’s head snapped up. “W-what?!”

Shango nodded, his white-hot gaze unrelenting. “Until the day you die, you bear our burden.”

Panic seized Kite as he fumbled with the bracelets, trying to yank them off.

“Ahahaha—” Anansi burst into laughter as Kite struggled hopelessly.

“Nope.” Shango smirked, watching the boy squirm.

Kite gritted his teeth, pulling harder. “Come on…! Just… come off already—”

The bracelets remained locked onto his wrists. Kite groaned loudly, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on! Can I at least get a refund?!”

Anansi wiped a fake tear from her eye. “Oh, little one, if only it were that simple.” Shango grinned smugly, arms crossed. “You should’ve read the fine print.”

Kite scowled. “You guys suck.”

Anansi chuckled. “Well, perhaps our previous wielder was simply more cautious.”

Kite paused. “…Wait. That kid before me. How did he take them off?”

Shango exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “He never fully accepted us.”

Kite raised an eyebrow as he spoke. “Huh?”

Anansi leaned in slightly, her golden eyes twinkling. “He was a special case. He never embraced our power, never let us truly claim his soul. He remained on the fringes, always one step removed.”

Kite groaned, exasperated. “Oh, great. How convenient.”

Anansi giggled. “Indeed.”

Shango’s smirk faded slightly, and his gaze turned serious as he pointed at Kite’s bracelets.

“These are more than weapons, boy.” His voice was firm, unyielding. “They are symbols.”

Kite’s expression shifted, his curiosity reawakening. “Symbols of… what?”

Shango’s eyes blazed like twin suns. “Hope. Justice. Humility. Leadership.”

Kite blinked. He hadn’t expected that. Shango took a step closer, the weight of his presence pressing into Kite’s chest.

“You will have to prove yourself worthy,” he said. “Only then may you tap into our powers.”

Kite’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes flickered down to the bracelets—now glowing faintly in response to Shango’s words.

A new kind of excitement flickered in Kite’s chest. Shango and Anansi both caught it immediately.

Their smirks widened. Then—Anansi’s form began to fade, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Farewell, little one… we will be watching.” Shango’s body began to dissolve into streaks of crackling lightning, his blazing white eyes locking onto Kite one final time.

“Make me proud, Kite Caulder...” His form shimmered, breaking apart into pure thunder and light. And as he vanished completely, his voice echoed like distant thunder. “Or die trying.”

Kite sat frozen for a moment, his gaze lingering on the spot where Shango and Anansi had vanished. The air still thrummed with energy, a lingering charge of static and mystery that made the room feel heavier than before.

Slowly, his eyes drifted down to his wrists, where the Twin Bracelets still glowed faintly, their distinct crimson and golden hues flickering softly like embers waiting to ignite. His fingers brushed over the intricate engravings, feeling the subtle hum of divine power beneath his skin. A slow grin spread across his face as he whispered, “So cool…”

The wooden creak of his door snapping open made him jolt. His eyes snapped toward the noise just as two familiar figures entered the room.

“Uh… Kite?” Rad’s quiet, hesitant voice broke the silence as he stepped in cautiously, followed closely by Ray, who hovered just behind him, his violet and emerald cybernetic eyes flickering with their usual unreadable calculation.

Kite’s grin didn’t falter. “Oh, hey guys.” His tone was casual, as if nothing unusual had just occurred.

Rad’s expression twisted in concern as he took a step closer. “Why were you talking to yourself?”

Kite raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “What do you mean? You didn’t hear them?”

Rad blinked, exchanging a confused glance with Ray. “Uh…” He looked around the dimly lit room, brows furrowing. “No? Are you okay?”

Kite’s grin faltered slightly, confusion flickering in his green pupils. “Huh… Weird.” He chuckled after a beat, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, I’m fine. What about you? Why are you two up here?”

Rad opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, Ray’s calm, synthetic voice cut through the air like a blade. “Father…”

Kite’s breath hitched slightly as Ray raised his palm forward, fingers splaying outward with an eerie sense of precision. A low hum vibrated through the walls as a massive cosmic portal tore itself open in the middle of the room.

A blistering, star-flecked tear in reality unfurled before them, swirling with deep purples, endless blues, and streaks of radiant white light—as if the very fabric of space had been peeled apart, exposing the raw infinity beyond. The portal didn’t just shimmer—it pulsed, alive, its swirling edges sparking with bursts of celestial energy that flickered like dying stars.

From within, a powerful, chilling wind howled through the breach, rustling their clothes and sending shivers down their spines. The force of it sucked the air toward the abyss, pulling at their bodies as if the portal itself was beckoning them forward.

Beyond the swirling threshold, an impossible expanse of deep-space stretched infinitely, dotted with nebulae burning in hues of violet and gold, their radiant gases shifting and spiraling like cosmic oceans. Countless stars flickered in the distance, some exploding in slow-motion supernovas, their violent births painting streaks of crimson across the void.

A single colossal celestial body loomed in the distance, its surreal, glass-like surface reflecting the surrounding galaxies as it hovered in the abyss, unmoving and eternal.

The air grew dense, tingling with an undeniable energy. Kite and Rad’s bodies were suddenly engulfed in a shimmering cosmic aura, their outlines glowing with traces of deep blue and silver light. A thrumming power coursed through them, making their hair stand on end, their skin alive with an energy they had never felt before.

Rad looked down at his arms, watching the ethereal glow dance along his skin, his fingers twitching as he felt the strength coursing through his veins. His eyes widened in awe. “Whoa…” He whispered under his breath.

Kite’s reaction was far less subtle, his entire face lit up with exhilaration, his emerald green eyes gleaming with excitement as he spun to face Ray. The robotic boy remained hovering in place, his usual expressionless demeanor intact, though there was something different this time.

A small smirk played at the edges of his lips. Then, Ray spoke.

“Would you like to go on an adventure?”