My father insists on coming to the Observatory.
“No.”
He looks at me over breakfast.
“I am not a child.”
“That argument belongs to me.”
“I used it first.”
My mother is on video call from Lagos, supporting neither of us in a way that somehow feels like supporting both.
“Arda,” she says, “stay outside the main hall.”
He agrees too quickly. I know that means nothing. By ten, the Annex is secured. Twelve participants. Council staff. Emergency teams. Kareem. Dr Vale. Saoirse. Me. I walk the hall before anyone enters. It looks nothing like the dream. That helps. Sunlight comes through the windows. No smoke. No broken glass. Saoirse finds me near the eastern wall.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“I am functioning.”
“Better.”
The test begins at eleven. At first, it is easier than Lagos. I find the connections deliberately this time. Guardian to Healer. Scholar to Architect. Mediator to Seer. Saoirse stands at the centre, translating the network back toward me. I understand what she meant about choice. When a connection is welcome, it feels different. Clean. Open. Nothing forced. For seven minutes, it works. Then one of the monitors alarms. Dr Vale looks toward the control room.
“What changed?”
Nobody answers. I feel it before the screens show it. Something outside the room has joined us. Then another. And another. Connections spread beyond the twelve participants. Through the building. Across the street. Across the city.
“Close it,” Saoirse says.
I try. The network pushes back. Kareem turns to Dr Vale.
“This is not the test.”
Her face has gone pale.
“No.”
The lights flicker. Somewhere below us, glass breaks. My father appears at the hall entrance. I swear under my breath.
“Baba, get out.”
“What happened?”
Before I can answer, every monitor goes black. The floor trembles. And the dream begins.