Kai Langford - August 2120
"Okay, can you just put those boxes on the top shelf over there?" Miriam says, ticking things off on her notepad.
I summon a shadow, wrapping it around a couple of wooden boxes, and lift them up to the top shelf with little effort.
She asked me to help with stock counting in the kitchen. We've been at it for over an hour now, checking and double-checking the remaining food supplies. When we finish the final count, she taps her pen to her lips, as if thinking.
"Looks like we're still fine for a few more days," Miriam says, smiling. "Thanks for your help, Kai."
I draw my shadows back in, wiping the dust from my trousers, and nod.
"I don't mind helping. Just let me know." And I mean it.
Miriam has been… kind to me since I arrived. More than anyone has been in a long time. Over the past month, I've come to think of her as a soft spot in my life, a statement of what I believe mothers must be like. The thought tugs at something I thought I'd buried a long time ago.
Would my mother have acted like this?
"You're a good boy, Kai," she says, smiling as she reaches over and hands me a sweet, like she always does.
I take it, murmuring thanks. I don't care much for sweets, but I don't have the heart to tell her. Besides, I usually give them to Ethan, so it's not wasted.
I turn to leave, intending to help with the next chore, but Miriam calls my name.
"Oh, Kai," she says, bright and cheerful. "If you're free the rest of the afternoon, do you think you could help me bake a cake?"
I pause, a little confused. I've never baked a cake before, and I'm not sure why she'd think I'd be the right choice. Still… I nod.
"Sure. I'll help."
Even if I don't know how, I don't mind spending the time with her.
I follow Miriam over to the counter, still holding the sweet she handed me. She hums softly, moving around the kitchen with a practiced ease. Every motion seems effortless, but she notices everything, the way the flour is stacked, the placement of utensils, the dust on the shelves.
"You know, Kai," she begins, her voice gentle, warm, and motherly, "I've really enjoyed having you here at Trinity these past few weeks."
I glance at her, not sure how to respond. She's smiling at me, the kind of smile that makes it hard not to feel like you belong, like someone's really seeing you.
"I mean it," she continues, reaching for a mixing bowl. "You're quiet, thoughtful… and willing to help wherever it's needed. Not many people have that kind of heart."
I shift slightly, unused to compliments. I clear my throat. "I… I just try to help."
Miriam chuckles softly, a sound that fills the room with warmth. "And that's exactly why you've made this place better. You bring calmness, Kai. And… it's nice to see someone appreciate the little things, even when it seems like no one's paying attention."
I look down at my hands, brushing against the counter. Her words tug at something I've spent years ignoring, something soft and human that isn't supposed to exist inside me.
"I… thank you," I murmur quietly.
"Don't thank me," she says, placing a hand lightly over mine for just a moment. "You've earned it simply by being here. And, honestly, it's been a joy watching you grow comfortable with everyone. Trinity needed someone like you. You make people feel safe."
I swallow, feeling a lump in my throat. I've spent so long walking through life numb, expecting nothing from anyone, trusting no one. And yet… here is someone who seems to care, without condition, without expectation.
She nudges a bag of flour toward me with a playful grin. "Now, help me with this cake, mister."
I allow a small, almost shy smile to tug at my lips. "Okay"
She laughs, that warm, easy sound, and I realise… this is what I've been missing. Quiet kindness. Simple connection.
We start gathering ingredients for the cake, flour dusting the counter, sugar spilling slightly over the edge of the bowl. I try to focus on following her instructions, but Miriam hums softly beside me, moving around the kitchen like she's part of it.
After a moment, she stops and looks at me. Her eyes are soft, reflective, tinged with something almost sad.
"You know, Kai," she says quietly, "you remind me a lot of my son."
I glance at her, surprised. "Your… son?"
She nods, tucking a stray strand of grey hair behind her ear. "Yes. He… he wanted to help people. Always. That's why... he took the Lunex Vial." She pauses, and I can hear the weight in her voice. "He wanted to become a Guardian, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. But…" Her hand drifts over the counter, fingers tracing a vague pattern. "The vial… it killed him instead."
I stiffen, unsure what to say. My shadows twitch faintly, reacting to the tension I feel inside.
Miriam sighs, but it's not bitter. Just sad, heavy with loss. "I see the same determination in you, Kai. That drive to do what's right, to help others, even when it's hard or dangerous… it's like seeing a piece of him again."
Her words catch me off guard. I'm used to people noticing my strength, my skills… but this? Seeing a memory of someone else in me? It's almost… tender. Fragile.
"I…" I start, but stop. I don't know what to say. There's no way to respond to grief I didn't cause, to feelings that aren't mine.
She smiles faintly, sensing my hesitation, and reaches over, lightly patting my shoulder. "You don't have to say anything, Kai. Just… remember why you do what you do. That's enough. I'm just glad that vial didn't take you the same way it took him."
I nod slowly, letting her words settle in the quiet warmth of the kitchen. There's a heaviness here, yes, but also a strange comfort. Someone who understands sacrifice, someone who's seen loss, and still… someone who believes in me.
She makes me feel… seen. Not for my power, not for my skill, not for my shadows, but for who I am.
Ethan's the only other one who makes me feel like that.
We start mixing the ingredients, flour clinging to my fingers and dusting the counter. I try to focus on the task, but Miriam keeps a gentle rhythm with her movements, humming softly as she works. Every so often, she glances at me, as if checking I'm keeping up, not impatiently, just… kindly.
"You're doing fine, Kai," she says with a soft smile. "More patient than I expected."
I shrug, trying to ignore the small warmth spreading in my chest. Baking isn't my forte, but somehow, with her guidance, it feels… manageable. Less like a chore, more like a quiet rhythm I can fall into.
As we measure sugar and fold it into the batter, I glance up at her. "Miriam… who's the cake for?"
She pauses, whisk in hand, and her eyes soften. A little mischievous, a little tender. "It's for Ethan," she says. "His birthday's tomorrow."
I freeze, mid-motion, the whisk poised in my hand. Ethan's birthday… I hadn't even thought about it. My chest tightens, not the heavy, suffocating kind, but the kind that pulls at something softer inside me.
Miriam smiles, catching my hesitation. "I thought it'd be nice if you helped. He'd like it, you know? He always appreciates the little things."
I nod, focusing back on the batter. My mind races, thinking of Ethan, his laugh, the way he always finds a way to make me feel lighter even when I don't want to. I don't know if I can do it perfectly, but… I want to.
"Okay," I murmur, "I'll help."
She pats my shoulder gently. "That's my boy," she says warmly. "Now, let's get this cake ready before I start sneaking bites."
As we continue, I catch myself relaxing into the motion. The kitchen smells sweet, warm.
I'm already thinking about how happy Ethan will be tomorrow.
But as we continue mixing and folding, I can't stop thinking about Miriam's words. Ethan's birthday. Tomorrow.
I feel a strange tightening in my chest, guilt, mostly. How did I not even notice? How did I not remember?
I need to think of something I can do for him. He's done so much for me I need to do something special for him.
He's always thought about me, even when I pushed him away.
I squeeze the whisk a little too hard. My mind races. What can I do for him? A cake is nice, sure, but he deserves more.
Then it hits me. The thing he always wanted, those little trips to town. I've refused every time, I was worried if I would panic being around so many people. But tomorrow… tomorrow, I could. I could take him. Just for him.
A small plan begins to form in my mind. Nothing big, nothing extravagant. Just him, me, a day outside this school, it's simple, but something he's wanted for weeks.
I glance at Miriam, who's carefully dusting flour off the counter, humming softly, and I realize she'd probably approve.
Tomorrow is my chance to finally do something for him.