Dear Brother

I found a small, abandoned apartment to lay low for now. The place was barely livable—peeling wallpaper, a musty scent of neglect hanging in the air, and the occasional creak of the floorboards under my weight. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to get lost in. Enough to hide from the thoughts that clawed at my mind, thoughts I couldn't escape no matter how hard I tried.

The thought of my power harming the people I cared about was unbearable. The weight of guilt sat heavy in my chest, suffocating. I hadn't meant to hurt him. I would never intentionally harm Booker. But it wasn't my fault—it was that damn cashier. If he hadn't activated that device, if the nullwave hadn't disrupted my abilities at the worst possible moment, then none of this would have happened. Booker wouldn't be lying in that hospital bed, slipping in and out of consciousness. He wouldn't be suffering because of me.

I needed to see him. I needed to know he was okay, even if I wasn't physically there.

Summoning my power, I expanded my domain—a technique I had used before when I eavesdropped on my siblings' conversation before our detainment. This time, I refined it, honing my focus solely on Booker. I stretched the dome across the room, letting the environment shift and warp. My surroundings flickered like a television struggling to find a signal, static crackling as the abandoned apartment transformed before my eyes. Within moments, I stood in a near-perfect replica of a hospital room, constructed entirely from my consciousness.

The sterile white walls, the beeping of machines, the subtle scent of antiseptic—it all felt disturbingly real. It reminded me of the training chamber Rem had used to help me master my abilities, a space that could make illusions indistinguishable from reality. And now, here I was, standing at the threshold of a room that existed only in my mind but reflected reality with haunting accuracy.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.

Booker lay motionless on the hospital bed, his face pale, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He wasn't awake. The machine beside him blinked with soft, rhythmic beeps, tracking his vitals. My gaze flicked to the screen, scanning the information displayed. With a slight pulse of energy, I tinkered with the device, accessing his medical history.

My heart sank.

He had been in and out of a coma since returning. The news struck me like a dagger to the gut. This wasn't just some temporary unconsciousness—this was something worse. Something deeper. And it was my fault.

Before I could process it further, the door creaked open.

I turned just in time to see Rem step inside. She moved with quiet urgency, her expression tense as she approached the bed. There was a softness in the way she placed her hand on Booker's forehead, a quiet plea in her actions as she tried to rouse him. She murmured something, her voice gentle yet firm, urging him to wake up.

Nothing.

She tried again, shaking him slightly.

Still nothing.

A flicker of panic crossed her face. I knew that look—she was scared. She didn't know what was wrong with him, and neither did I.

I had to do something.

Without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand over his chest, pushing a surge of energy into him. Rem couldn't see me, couldn't feel my presence, but maybe, just maybe, this would help. The second my energy flowed into him, his body jolted. A sharp intake of breath. A sudden spasm.

Rem jumped back, eyes wide in shock.

She had no idea what had just happened. But I did. Something inside Booker wasn't just unconscious—he was dreaming. Not a normal dream, but something deeper, something recurring.

I could see it.

The ocean stretched endlessly before him, its surface eerily still, barely reaching his knees. A sky without clouds loomed overhead, blending seamlessly with the horizon in an unsettling display of infinite space. He stood there, silent, motionless, staring out at the expanse as if waiting for something.

And then, he spoke.

"What am I?"

I didn't hesitate. I pushed myself further, deeper into his consciousness, willing myself to step into the dream itself. The hospital room flickered and faded, replaced entirely by his world, his subconscious. I was no longer an observer—I was here.

When I arrived, I found myself a good distance behind him, at least a hundred feet away. The moment felt fragile like the wrong movement could shatter the entire dream. I took a cautious step forward, my boots making no sound against the water's surface.

"Booker?"

His shoulders tensed. Slowly, he turned to face me, eyes widening in shock. There was hesitation in his stance, a wariness that told me he remembered. He remembered everything.

"Kaleb?" His voice was nervous, uncertain. His body language screamed at me to keep my distance.

I held up my hands, trying to calm him. "Booker, I didn't mean to hurt you."

He remained silent, watching me carefully. I swallowed and continued.

"The nullwave—it disrupted my control. I didn't misfire on purpose. I would never hurt you intentionally."

"Please believe me."

His posture softened slightly, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. "How are you here?"

"I found a way in," I admitted. "I needed to see you."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Your gifts are terrifying, Kaleb."

I let out a dry chuckle. "You're not wrong."

I glanced past him, toward the endless horizon, and that's when I noticed it—something shimmering in the distance, a flicker of light just where the sky met the water.

"What is that?" I asked.

He turned back to it, his expression thoughtful. "I like to believe it's my purpose. Like, deep down, I know what it is. But I can't reach it."

I frowned. "Why haven't you tried?"

A long silence stretched between us before he finally answered. "Because I'm scared," he admitted. "Scared of what I might find. Scared of growing up." His voice was quieter now, almost vulnerable. "You ever feel like that?"

I sighed. "Booker, I'm probably the last person who should be advising about growing up. I don't even remember my childhood." I placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "But I do know one thing—life doesn't wait for us to be ready. And I need you to wake up. We have unfinished business."

He gave me a weak chuckle. "You mean the Harbingers?"

"Exactly," I smirked. "I can't kick their asses alone."

His amusement faded. "I don't think I can wake up on my own."

"That's why I'm here."

I lifted my hand and willed the dream to collapse. The water rippled, the sky flickered, and the horizon distorted like a cracked mirror. The world around us began to dissolve into nothingness.

As we stood there, watching the dream unravel, I met his gaze one last time. "You can't stay young forever, brother."

And then, the dream shattered.