"Thank you. We need all the help we can get."

I looked at the portrait of Great-Grandfather James on the wall. Died at one hundred eight, happy and loved in the reality he'd chosen.

"I wish you were here," I whispered to the portrait. "You always knew what to say. How to give hope when things seem impossible."

But he wasn't here. Just like Thelma and Xavier weren't here. Just like Theo wasn't here.

Every generation lost heroes. But every generation created new ones. We'd figure this out. Because that's what our family did.

Luna (Year 10)

I sat in my lab, ageless as always, contemplating a decision I'd postponed...