Aurelius had survived the backyard apocalypse, narrowly avoided the cat coalition, and discovered that cosmic energy was both terrifyingly powerful and very poorly labeled. Now, under Lumulith's tutelage, it was time to learn.
"First lesson," Lumulith said, hovering like a nebula-shaped owl, "is control. You have power. That power is wild. And wild power… is very bad without control."
Aurelius twitched its wings. "Right. Control. Got it. Like… maybe I shouldn't accidentally vaporize the neighbor's tomato patch?"
"Exactly," Lumulith said. "And perhaps not the house, the street, or the small planet over there."
Aurelius tilted midair. "Small planet? You're kidding, right?"
Lumulith's eyes, spinning galaxies in miniature, didn't blink. "No. You are connected to more than this yard. The spark of evolution does not remain local. It resonates. Across space. Across dimensions. Across… lunch."
Aurelius made a sound somewhere between a squeak and an existential sigh. "Lunch?"
"Yes, lunch." Lumulith glowed. "Even lunch will judge you if you are careless."
With that cryptic statement, Lumulith demonstrated. A tiny pebble hovered. Aurelius squinted (as well as compound eyes can squint) and tried to replicate the feat.
The pebble wobbled. Then, it exploded. Dust rained down. The sandbox cratered further. Aurelius flinched.
"Right," it muttered. "Control. Lesson one: don't explode things unless I want to. Got it."
"Correct," said Lumulith. "Now, focus not just on action… but intention. What you intend determines what manifests. Try lifting that leaf."
Aurelius wobbled in midair. The leaf shivered… then caught fire. "Oh no! I just wanted to lift it!"
"You intended it to move, but your subconscious intended… heat," Lumulith said, voice like starlight. "Subconscious is powerful. Mind and instinct must align."
Aurelius pinched its tiny mental antennas. "So, basically, don't panic, or I burn the world? Got it. Totally manageable."
Next, Lumulith introduced multi-stage exercises. First, simple manipulation: move a pebble without touching it. Aurelius focused. Pebble moved. Slightly tilted. Rolled into a tiny crater. "Success!" Aurelius cheered. "Sort of!"
Then came more advanced practice: controlling multiple objects simultaneously. Aurelius hovered, wings buzzing, concentrating. Two pebbles floated. Then three. Then five. Then the sandbox erupted into a miniature sandstorm.
"Lesson two: scale," Lumulith said, barely concealing a chuckle. "Do not attempt full power before mastering small power. Or you… ruin things."
"Ruin things?" Aurelius squeaked. "You mean… like yesterday?"
"Precisely," said Lumulith. "Yesterday."
Hours passed—or maybe minutes, time being relative when you're buzzing with emerging cosmic power. Aurelius's wings glowed brighter, energy pulses stabilizing, small but noticeable. By the end of practice, the fly could levitate three pebbles, a dandelion seed, and half a garden gnome without catastrophic side effects.
"Improvement," Lumulith said. "Noticeable. But next, we practice focus under chaos."
From nowhere, the cat coalition returned. Raccoon, pigeon, and the judgmental cat all hovered like little furry and feathered satellites, eyes full of suspicion. Aurelius twitched. "Oh no. Here we go again."
Lumulith smiled. "Perfect opportunity. Chaos is the test. Intention is the key. Do not panic."
Aurelius inhaled. Focused. Pulses of energy crackled along its wings. One cat lunged. Aurelius nudged it gently with a micro-force field. Cat spun harmlessly into a tree. Raccoon tried to swipe. Deflected. Pigeon flapped. Distracted.
By the end, the yard—though slightly scorched—remained mostly intact. Aurelius floated above, wings sparkling, exhilarated. "Did it! Controlled chaos! Controlled chaos!"
Lumulith's galaxy-eyes twinkled. "Yes, Aurelius. You are learning. And yet… this is only the beginning. Every choice, every experiment, every twitch of your wings… ripples outward. You are a beacon, a spark, a path. And the universe is… watching."
Aurelius hovered. Thoughts swirled. A sense of awe, terror, and tiny, absurd pride. "Right," it muttered. "Lesson three: don't screw up the universe. Lesson four: maybe I can look heroic while doing it. Lesson five: make it slightly inconvenient for the raccoon."
And with that, Aurelius zoomed across the backyard, wings glowing, energy pulses leaving faint trails of light in the air—ready for the next lesson, the next chaos, and the next step toward cosmic evolution.