Metanoia

e verdant landscape, casting a chilling shadow over the tranquility. The idea of

The utterance of an exploded sun, an event of impossible magnitude, hung before him—an elusive phantom that shrouded the air with profound mistrust. His voice emerge

. “You remember the falling star you saw, yes? That was no star, foo

iges of denial. A helpless sob escaped his lips as the truth hit home. He

ng storm of his emotions. He was a scavenger, not a scholar. Time

as your civilization believed. The universe is far more complex and shapeable. You are not in the past

tempting to ward off the throbbing ache that began to pulse in time with his racing heart

, his tone stern yet not unkind, “your emotions won’t serve you here. Yo

?” he spat, the word a bitter concoction on his tongue. “My world is gone, and I’m stuck

“Exactly,” he said, his

. But Vula was surprisingly agile. He dodged the punch effortlessly and retalia

ide. He glared at Vula, his anger momenta

rted. “You need to understand, Elijah. Grieving for your past won’t change your pre

ike the ripple of a raindrop on still water, the tranquility was once again shattere

h every attack he couldn’t land and every strike that met empty air. He had always been a survivor, but this was

between them. “You come from a generation of weaklings. The fi

at the insult. “We didn’t give up!” he cou

could escape it all. Re-create the world and live in a make

ists, the skin over his knuckles stretching taut and blanching under the strain. His voice, a tempest of hurt and defiance, ricocheted off the surroundi

med out a staccato rhythm of his fury on the forest floor. His gaze, ablaze with anger, stayed riveted on the monkey. Gathering a

, his monkey reflexes disrupted by the unexpected assault. Heaving, Elijah watched as Vula sc

idea what I took to survive.” His chest heaved as he sucked in gulps of oxygen, letting the adrenaline-fueled satisfaction of his successful retaliation wash over him. It was a small vic