The backyard felt smaller than it used to.
Seven figures stood beneath the overcast sky, the garden heavy with the smell of damp soil and leaves. The five teenagers hovered together near the edge of the grass, nervous energy buzzing between them. Mr. and Mrs. Frewin stood opposite them, calm on the surface, though their hands were laced together tighter than usual.
Mr. Frewin cleared his throat.
"As we said last night," he began, "Spirit isn't something you gain. It's something you already have."
The kids shifted slightly.
"It's part of being alive," he continued. "A result of thought, emotion, and experience. Every feeling you've ever had feeds it, whether you want it to or not."
Chase squinted. "So… it's like fuel?"
"In a way," Mrs. Frewin said gently. "But it doesn't burn unless you let it."
That earned a nod from her husband.
"The reason most people never notice it," he went on, "is because the Regime trains you not to feel. Or at least, not deeply. Spirit responds best to emotion, the stronger, the clearer, the better."
Chase opened his mouth, then paused, visibly struggling.
"So—"
Akilah didn't let him finish. She smacked the top of his head with her notebook.
"Listen."
Mrs. Frewin laughed quietly, then stepped forward.
"When someone does choose to use their Spirit," she said, "they do it through what we call a Mode."
"Think of it like a lens," Mr. Frewin added. "A way to focus everything you feel into something tangible."
"Or not tangible," Mrs. Frewin said. "Some Modes take physical form. Others don't."
She lifted her hand.
Frost bloomed across her fingers in a breath, thin and sharp, forming delicate icicles that glinted in the muted light.
Amora gasped and reached out before thinking, lightly brushing the ice with her fingertip.
"It's cold…"
Mr. Frewin smiled faintly.
"My Mode is fire," he said, opening his palm. Flame blossomed there, controlled, steady, alive. "Some Modes are inherited. Some are chosen. Either way, they're shaped by what you love."
The fire vanished as he closed his hand.
"There are Modes tied to objects," he continued. "Ideas. Emotions. Even instincts. The less concrete the Mode, the harder it is to control."
"And the more it takes out of you," Mrs. Frewin said, her voice softening. "Spirit isn't infinite."
Akilah was already scribbling notes, her brow furrowed.
"What we're asking you to do today," Mr. Frewin said, "is think carefully. Choose something that matters to you. Something you're willing to carry for the rest of your life."
The words lingered heavier than any joke could have.
"Changing a Mode," Mrs. Frewin added, "is… difficult. Painful. Sometimes impossible."
She smiled again, trying to lighten the mood. "So take your time. I'll be inside baking."
The adults headed back into the house, leaving the five teens alone in the quiet yard.
The silence lasted all of three seconds.
"Oh, that's easy," Chase said, slinging an arm around Amora's shoulders. "I'll just pick her."
Amora's face immediately turned red.
Akilah snorted. "What, you gonna duplicate her? Send tiny girlfriends into battle?"
Chase grinned. "Not a bad idea."
Chase glanced at the notebook in Akilah's hand, reaching for it on instinct.
She yanked her notebook closer to her chest. "Touch this and you lose a finger."
"What are you even writing?" Chase lunged anyway, managing to snag the edge of the notebook. He flipped it open.
"'Intelligence?' Seriously? What are you gonna do, bore people to death?"
"It's a draft," Akilah snapped, ripping it back. "And at least it's not stupid."
"Oh, so strength's off the table now?" Chase laughed. "Shame."
Akilah chased him across the yard without hesitation.
Amora and Vida watched them go, shaking their heads.
Vida turned to Hendrix. "What about you?"
He hadn't moved. His fingers rested loosely around the neck of his guitar.
"I already know," he said.
That stopped everyone.
"You what?" Chase asked, halfway behind Akilah as she froze mid-step.
Hendrix hesitated only a moment. "My Mode's guitar."
Akilah burst out laughing. "You're kidding."
"No."
She wiped a tear from her eye. "What, you gonna play songs until the bad guys surrender?"
Hendrix's jaw tightened as his brow furrowed. "At least I'm not planning to think people unconscious."
That earned him a split second of silence, then Akilah lunged.
He bolted. Chase joined him, howling with laughter as the two sprinted around the garden.
Vida smiled, but her attention drifted.
Her eyes traced the flower beds. The soil she turned every morning. The leaves she memorized. The way things grew when cared for, and withered when neglected.
Plants. Animals. People.
Life.
The word settled in her chest, heavy and warm.
Later that evening, Mr. and Mrs. Frewin returned to the yard carrying a loaf of banana bread, steam curling from its crust. The kids crowded around instantly.
"Alright," Mrs. Frewin said, handing out slices. "Have we made any decisions?"
Mr. Frewin turned to Chase first. "Let's hear it."
Chase chewed thoughtfully. "Guns."
There was no laughter this time.
"They're loud," he continued. "Simple. Anyone can be dangerous with one. Doesn't matter who you are. Like a great equalizer."
Mr. Frewin nodded slowly. "That's… honest."
Akilah straightened. "Mine's intelligence."
Mrs. Frewin smiled at her. "That suits you."
Amora swallowed. "I want… love."
Chase squeezed her hand.
Mrs. Frewin hesitated, just for a heartbeat, then nodded. "That will be hard."
"I know," Amora said quietly, kicking her foot back and forth.
Mr. Frewin turned to Hendrix. "And you?"
"Guitar," Hendrix said again, firmer this time.
"That can work," Mr. Frewin said before anyone else could speak. "Music reaches places words can't."
Vida took a breath. "Mine's life."
Hendrix smiled at her. "That makes sense."
Mr. Frewin clapped his hands together once.
"Then that's it," he said. "No turning back."
The five teens exchanged looks, excited, terrified, resolute.
"Training starts now."
The wind stirred through the garden.
And somewhere beneath their feet, something ancient listened.