The Next Inheritance

Sunny had seen enough cosmic revelations to last several lifetimes. He'd witnessed the birth of gods, the collapse of dimensions, and the theoretical death of entropy itself. None of it had prepared him for what he was looking at now.

The Fourth Generation wasn't born—it crystallized.

Like fragments of pure possibility condensing from the tri-state harmony that Zara, Shia, and Reed had achieved, three figures emerged from the cosmic nexus with the casual inevitability of nightmares becoming real. They didn't struggle into existence or announce themselves with fanfare. They simply were, as if the universe had suddenly remembered it had forgotten to create them.

"Well," Sunny muttered, his voice carrying the kind of dry resignation that came from watching reality rewrite itself on a Tuesday afternoon, "this is going to be a problem."