The sky above Washington, D.C., was clear that night—too clear. Betty leaned over the balcony of Dave's massive high-rise apartment, her arms resting against the cool railing, eyes squinting at the stars.
"Amanda," she whispered, "are you sure we're not being watched?"
Amanda, lying on Dave's floor on a plush bean bag, flicked through a holographic projection Adele had created. "By Mira or by the universe in general?"
"…Both."
Dave walked in shirtless, wearing black training pants and holding a tray with glowing silver drinks. "Neither. Adele's running low-frequency scans. No one's watching."
Amanda sat up sharply. "How do you even know this stuff?"
Dave handed each of them a glass, plopping onto the couch with a slight smirk. "Because I'm me. And Adele sees everything. Well, almost everything."
From the wall, Adele's voice chimed in dryly, "Except his thoughts. The man's brain is a sealed vault."
Betty blinked at her drink. "Wait, what even is this?"
"Energy stabilizer," Dave replied. "It'll help prepare your bodies. You two are walking time bombs."
Amanda sipped. "And you're just figuring this out now?"
"Hey. I've been busy saving planets and dodging cosmic goddesses. Cut me some slack."
⸻
-Training Room — Celestial Arc (Midnight)
A portal shimmered open inside Dave's bedroom closet. Amanda nearly jumped out of her skin.
"You've had a portal in your closet this whole time?" she gasped.
Dave just shrugged. "Where else would I put it?"
Betty stepped through first and nearly stumbled. "Okay. This ship? Is this ship… bigger than the White House?"
Amanda's jaw dropped. "This looks like it was built by aliens and angels."
The training room opened like a dark coliseum filled with floating cubes, shifting gravity plates, and glowing glyphs etched in the walls. Adele's voice guided them inside.
"Activating atmosphere stabilizers. Amanda, Betty—stand near the center glyph."
As they did, glowing lines appeared on the floor. Dave stood before them, arms folded.
"You two are part Nephir," he said. "Your powers are ancient. But you're untrained. That's dangerous."
Betty raised a brow. "You mean dangerous like… blowing up buildings?"
"Worse," Dave replied. "You could trigger a time loop or open a dimensional rift. Mira would definitely notice that."
Amanda stepped forward. "So teach us, Space Lord."
He chuckled. "Gladly."
⸻
First Lesson: Control Through Emotion
Dave's teaching style was surprisingly calm and patient. He didn't bark orders. He asked questions. He laughed when they failed.
"Betty, don't force it. Feel it," he said, as Betty tried to summon a light construct.
She strained until a glowing ribbon of silver light fluttered from her palm. "I did it—I did—"
BOOM. The ribbon exploded into a wall.
Amanda burst out laughing. "You just created a wormhole to nowhere."
Betty rubbed her shoulder. "Oops."
Amanda's turn was next. She closed her eyes, trying to focus. She could feel it, deep in her chest—like a pulse beneath her heartbeat.
Dave's voice turned softer, almost a whisper behind her. "Don't think of controlling it. Think of letting it trust you."
Amanda opened her palm. A swirling, blue sphere of time energy hovered in her hand, silent and delicate.
"Whoa," she whispered.
Dave stepped closer, his fingers brushing against her wrist as he inspected the orb. "That's… advanced. You're syncing with the timestream."
Their eyes met. A long pause.
"You're good at this," he said softly.
Amanda smiled faintly. "Only because you're a good teacher."
Behind them, Betty made exaggerated gagging noises. "Romance and space magic? Really? Right in front of me?"
Amanda rolled her eyes and threw a small spark of light her way. Betty dodged it like a pro.
⸻
Comms vs. Telepathy — The Real Reason
Later, as they walked through the garden wing of the Celestial Arc, Amanda glanced at the sleek comm-link on her wrist.
"So… why not just use telepathy?" she asked.
Adele answered first. "Because telepathy leaves a signature. One that cosmic beings like Mira can detect."
Dave added, "And comms? They're clean. No ripple. Just tech."
Betty nodded. "So… if we used our minds to talk, Mira would know we're not just 'ordinary girls'?"
"Exactly," Dave said. "Which is why we're careful. Mira's not the enemy, but she's tied to cosmic laws. And some secrets need to stay buried."
⸻
A Bit of Warmth — Dave and Amanda's Moment
When they returned to Earth, Betty made a dramatic excuse and left the room. Amanda remained, still holding her comm-link, quiet.
Dave sat beside her on the edge of the bed.
"Why do I feel like… this is all bigger than we can understand?" Amanda asked.
"Because it is."
She turned to him. "And yet, you smile like it's all fine."
Dave chuckled. "If I stopped smiling, I'd probably go insane."
A silence lingered. Her eyes met his, searching.
"Back there, in training… I felt like I knew you. Like I've known you before."
Dave looked at her, his expression softening. "Maybe you have."
Another silence—one of possibility.
Amanda leaned in slightly. "Is this… okay?"
Dave's voice was a whisper. "If you're asking if I've thought about it… I have."
Their faces were inches apart when Adele's voice interrupted: "Mira's approaching the apartment. Time frequency spike detected."
Amanda groaned. "Saved by the goddess."
Dave laughed. "Come on. Pretend we're studying."
⸻
Meanwhile: Mira and the Cosmic Shift
On the rooftop of the temple in Nepal, Mira opened her eyes from deep meditation.
Something was… wrong. A shift in the flow of time.
She pressed her fingers together and whispered a spell. A vision shimmered.
A flash of Dave's apartment. A faint spike of energy. A blur of three beings—not two.
"Hm." She narrowed her eyes. "Too faint to trace."
But her heart whispered, It's him. Something's waking up in him.
She stood slowly, clouds swirling above her.
"Soon, Dave… I'll know everything."