"Feel it yet?" Lance asked, his eyes on the road.

Goose bumps formed over V's arms the moment they entered Covington. The fatigue of their twenty-hour journey immediately vanished, replaced by an intense vigor, similar to how he felt during times of deep meditation. "What's happening?" V said, trying to contain himself.

"Every action has consequences," Lance said. His face was still, his tone biting. "Ensolians are powerful ethereal beings, never meant to dwell in the physical plane. Your mother destabilized Covington's tether to this plane by coming here, and your uncle's stunt exacerbated the issue."

His words, though revelatory, lacked their intended impact. Primarily due to V's shock at Lance's sudden change in demeanor. Their car ride was chock-full of bad jokes and silly observations as they traveled from city to city. But in almost an instant, he dropped his irreverent personality. Was this the real him?

V took a series of deep breaths, centering himself to the best of his ability. This sudden influx of energy was almost overwhelming.

"It will take time to adjust," Lance said. "Especially for someone as advanced as you. All spiritually sensitive people feel something similar upon entering Covington, though not nearly as intense."

V shifted his focus back to his eventual reunion with his loved ones. Envisioning them was the only thing that kept him sane as they drove past vast swaths of rural country. Seeing the same stretches of geography, though striking in their natural beauty, quickly became unbearably dull.

As they forged ahead, V absorbed his surroundings, each landmark and recognizable building evoking a different memory. Covington's only roller rink had a complete redesign. A barbershop he used to frequent turned into a restaurant, and one of his favorite restaurants became a payday loan business. Despite the myriad of differences, a comforting familiarity lingered in the air. He sank into his seat, soaking it all in.

"We're close," Lance said as he initiated a turn. They proceeded to drive through miles of farmland. V never had much of an interest in the more rural parts of Covington, but as they passed a series of open fields and rolling hills, he marveled at the countryside's tranquil beauty. He had no idea that just outside of Covington's metropolitan areas, existed landscapes that oozed warmth and charm.

An enormous red-brick farmhouse came into view. Its dormer windows and wrap-around porch were similar to the plantation houses Summer saw while visiting her family in Georgia. Both rustic and excessive.

They parked near the mailbox, a sizable trek from the home proper. V's heartbeat skyrocketed as he cast his eyes upon the house—standing behind a sprawling, poorly maintained garden composed of unclipped hedges and wilted flowers.

V sat in silence as he slowly pulled on the car door handle, his heart still pounding an anxious tune.

"Go already," Lance said, pushing V out the door.

"Wait, aren't you coming?"

Lance cracked a smile as he turned the key in the ignition. He handed V his backpack. "Don't worry. We'll meet again." He sped off before V could even think of a response.

V froze, shock-stricken as his friend's yellow Honda Civic kicked up clouds of dust. Lance raced down the road without so much as a backwards glance.

Such an icy departure wounded him. They had spent years together, developing what he thought to be an unbreakable bond. Why the sudden change in disposition?

V sensed a presence behind him, filled with malicious intent. Years of training had granted him the ability to pick up on the emotions of those around him, however subtle. I didn't hear a thing, V thought. How did they sneak up on me?

"Turn around with your hands in the air." It was a man's voice, both foreign and recognizable. Just like everything else in this town he used to call home.

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That voice. V raised his hands and slowly turned around. His eyes shot to the steel blade pointed at his neck, its golden hilt intricately adorned with unrecognizable symbols. His focus shifted to the sword's wielder.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

V's eyes began watering, but he focused on his breath, smothering his tears. "Connor. It's me."

Connor moved his sword closer to V's neck. A chill ran down his spine as the cold steel point made contact. "Answer my question."

How could he convince Connor that this Vietnamese man towering over him was his deceased friend? That he had spent all that time grieving over someone only a few states away? Then it hit him. V braced himself as he noticed the gray strands peppering Connor's jet black hair. "After Catelyn's death and Summer's injury..." He paused. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but this cut still felt as raw as the day he got it. "We had a conversation at the clearing where we fought our first demon. You told me something that I'll never forget: 'Personality is not static. Who you are now is not who you have to be—'"

"If there are parts of yourself that you want to change, do it." Connor lowered his sword, shock twisting his time-worn face. "V?" Connor looked him all over, wide-eyed. "We saw your golden aura, but we never thought it would actually be you. What the hell happened?"

"I'll tell you everything. But first..." V went in for a hug. Connor dropped his sword and used his enormous arms to squeeze the life out of his old friend.

V pulled back, a hand on Connor's shoulder. "You're huge, man. Are steroids that easy to get now?"

Connor peered up at him. "Sadly, I don't have a good comeback. But if you bear with me, I'll think of something." He grinned. "You don't know how happy I am to see you again."

"The feeling is mutual."

It was all so surreal. As a child, V spent countless hours daydreaming of this exact moment. But as the years passed, and his focus shifted toward training to become the ultimate weapon against La'el, his optimism waned, replaced by a pragmatism that no longer allowed for such childish notions.

Connor sheathed his sword, placing it inside the golden, beautifully engraved scabbard on his back. "Please, come inside. We'll talk more once I introduce you to everyone." He started toward the house. His walk brimming with a quiet confidence, bordering on regal. With such an increase in muscle mass, V recalled the way Mr. Au carried himself.

V walked up the house's wide porch steps. "Based on your 'warm' welcome, it may be best for me to stay out here for a bit while you prep everyone for my arrival."

Connor stopped before his imposing, solid oak front door. He turned, a grin on his face. "Don't worry. They've been watching us this whole time. If they viewed you as a threat, you'd already be dead."

"Well, that's... comforting."

Connor chuckled as they entered the enormous foyer. Sunlight beamed through the surrounding windows, casting bizarre patterns on the smudged hardwood floors.

They stepped into the living room, both spacious and bare. Two figures greeted V. A man and a woman, each sitting on their own overstuffed armchair.

V had done a remarkable job of keeping himself in check. Reuniting with Connor arose a flood of emotions, yet he remained composed. But as he cast his eyes upon those familiar faces, he retreated within himself.

Connor put a hand on V's shoulder. "Summer. Pops. I'd like you to..." His hand started twitching, tears cascading down his face. "Guys, it's V," he said in a shaky voice, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "He's back."

They shot out of their seats. Summer wore her dark-brown hair short. Outside of her laugh lines being slightly more prominent, she didn't look a day over twenty-five. Her black short sleeve blouse and yoga pants of the same color accented her curvaceous build. "Connor, what are you talking about? How is this guy V?"

Mr. Au held eye contact as he walked toward V, his stride as commanding as ever. Though still handsome, he for the first time in V's life actually looked his age, with his fully gray goatee and deep wrinkles etched across his face. His hulking frame that used to intimidate strangers had morphed into a svelte one—prominent veins covering his arms.

He stood before his son, staring into V's eyes with a piercing intensity.

V broke eye contact, knowing that if he didn't, he'd surely break down.

Mr. Au beamed. "You've seen a lot over the years, haven't you? I see the wisdom in your eyes. Welcome back, son."

Hearing his father speak again shattered V's barriers. He buried his head in his dad's chest and let the tears flow. For the first time since reentering this plane, he felt light as a feather.

***

Trevor lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling as he allowed himself to be taken away by the soothing tones of lo-fi hip-hop playing softly in his ears.

His door swung open, causing him to almost leap out of his bed. With a quickened heartbeat, he double tapped his temple and shot a glare at the person who dared to breach his peace.

Summer stood at his doorway, her eyes puffy and red. "Stop moping and get your ass downstairs! V is back!"

Trevor didn't hear a word of what she said. His focus was solely on the giant grin stretched across Summer's face. "Wait... what?"