Genesis. Volume 3.

January 7, 1989. Brookfield. The Genesis Mansion. 3:00 a.m. Max woke to a scream. His own scream. He sat up in bed, gripping the blanket, breathing hard. His forehead was slick with sweat, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear it in his temples. The nightmare was the same as always. His mother. He saw her again, young, smiling, with warm eyes that looked at him with love. And then—darkness. A scream. And the emptiness that remained after she was gone. He'd never told anyone about it. Not even Arthur. Not even himself. He sat in the darkness, trying to stop the trembling in his hands. The room was cold, and he could feel the sweat cooling on his skin, leaving a sticky chill behind. He didn't know how much time had passed. A minute? Five? An hour? The door creaked open. Sophia stood in the doorway. She was in an old robe, her hair loose, holding a mug of hot tea. "I heard the scream," she said quietly. "May I come in?" Max nodded, unable to speak. Sophia entered and sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't turn on the light—just sat in the darkness, and her presence was warm, soothing. "You had a nightmare," she said. It wasn't a question. "Yes," Max replied. His voice was hoarse, unfamiliar. "Do you have them often?" "Every night. Since I was a child." Sophia was silent. She didn't ask questions, didn't try to console him with words. She just sat beside him and waited. "My mother died when I was seven," Max said. His voice trembled, but he continued. "I don't know what happened. She just didn't wake up one morning. The doctors said it was her heart. But I remember that the day before, she was happy. She was laughing. She was hugging me. And the next day she was gone." Sophia placed her hand on his shoulder. Warm, firm. "I've never told anyone about this," Max said. "Not even Arthur. I thought if I kept quiet, she'd come back. Stupid, right?" "No," Sophia said. "Not stupid. You were a child. You didn't know how to cope." "I still don't know how." "Yes, you do," Sophia said. "You're here. You're alive. You're fighting. That's how you cope." She handed him the mug of tea. Max took it, brought it to his lips. The tea was warm, with honey and mint. "Thank you," he said. "You're welcome," Sophia replied. "You are my son. I will always be here for you." Max looked at her. In the dim light, her face was soft, warm, like his mother's. He felt something inside him loosen—not the pain, not the fear, but the dull tension he'd carried for years. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he said. "You'd manage," Sophia said. "You're strong. But you don't have to manage alone. You have us." She stood, straightened the blanket on his bed. "Sleep," she said. "I'll be right here if you need me." Max lay down, pulled the blanket over himself. Sophia left, closing the door behind her. He lay in the darkness, feeling the warmth from the tea spread through his body. For the first time in years, he fell asleep without nightmares. January 7, 1989. Brookfield. The Genesis Mansion. 6:00 a.m. Jack sat in the living room by the fireplace, staring at the dying embers. He hadn't slept for several nights—afraid that if he fell asleep, he'd wake up in the basement, with Crowley's voice in his head. But today he felt different. The tiredness was there, but it didn't press down on him. It was just tiredness. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Sophia came down, wrapped in an old blanket. Seeing Jack, she didn't look surprised. "You're not sleeping," she said, sitting beside him on the couch. "I can't," he replied. "I'm afraid." "Of what?" "That I'll become him again. That Crowley will break out when I lose control." "You won't," Sophia said. "You're stronger." "How do you know?" "I can see it," she said. "I see how you look at your friends. How you care for them. That's not a monster. That's a human being." Jack looked at her. There was the same warmth in her eyes as in her voice. "When Crowley was inside me, I felt only emptiness," he said. "Cold. Silence. I thought I'd never be myself again." "And now?" "Now I feel warmth. And pain. And fear. And it's... strange. I didn't know you could feel all of it at once." "That's what life is," Sophia said. "That's what it means to be human." She took his hand. Her fingers were warm, soft. "You're not a monster," she said. "You're a boy who walked through hell and came back. And you deserve to be happy." Jack squeezed her hand. For the first time in a long while, he felt he could believe it. "Thank you," he said. "You're welcome," Sophia replied. "You're my son. I'll always be here." She hugged him, and he felt her warmth seep into him, warming him from the inside. He didn't cry—he couldn't—but something inside him let go. As if he'd finally believed he wasn't alone. January 7, 1989. Brookfield. The Genesis Mansion. 8:00 a.m. At breakfast, Arthur announced they were leaving in two days. "To New York," he said, pouring tea into mugs. "We'll find Eleanor. She knows how to build new seals." "What about the Red Circle?" Emma asked. "They won't wait for us to find her." "I know," Arthur said. "That's why we have to be fast." Sasha, sitting in the corner, raised her head. "I can help," she said. "I know their system. I know where they keep their information. If we can get into their headquarters, we can find out what they're planning." "And how do we get in?" Max asked. "Through the old channels," Sasha said. "I know the passwords. I know the codes. I know how to bypass their defenses." "But if they find out you're helping us," Arthur said, "they'll kill you." "I know," Sasha said. "But I'm willing to take that risk. I don't want to be their pawn anymore. I want to be part of this family." She looked at Sophia, who sat at the head of the table and smiled at her with the same warm smile she gave everyone else. "You already are," Sophia said. "You always were." Sasha didn't answer. But her eyes glistened. January 7, 1989. Brookfield. The Genesis Mansion. 11:00 a.m. Lisa sat in her room, practicing. She created circle after circle, and each one was brighter and steadier than the last. She could feel the power inside her growing, becoming stronger, more confident. She stood and walked into the hallway. On the stairs stood Arthur, trying to fix an old lamp. He was on a stepladder, holding wires, muttering under his breath. "Mom asked me to fix it," he said, seeing Lisa. "I thought it would be simple. But this is a mess." "Let me try," Lisa said. "You know how to fix lamps?" "No. But I can try something else." She focused. Inside her, something stirred—not power, not energy, but something deeper. She imagined the lamp turning on, light filling the room, darkness retreating. She opened her eyes. The lamp was on. Arthur stared at her in amazement. "How did you do that?" "I don't know," Lisa said. "I just imagined it turning on. And it did." She looked at her hands. They were trembling, but not from exhaustion. From power. "I'm getting stronger," she said. "But I don't know why." "Maybe because we need you," Arthur said. "Maybe this is what was meant to happen." He climbed down from the ladder, walked over, and hugged her. "You're my sister," he said. "And I'm proud of you." Lisa leaned into him and felt his warmth pass into her. "Me too," she said. "I'm proud of you too." January 7, 1989. Brookfield. The Genesis Mansion. 2:00 p.m. After lunch, everyone gathered in the living room to discuss the details of the trip. Sasha brought a map of London and spread it out on the table. "The Circle's headquarters is here," she said, pointing to a building in the city center. "But you can't get in without the key." "What key?" Max asked. "I don't know," Sasha said. "But I know it's connected to you. To your history. To your blood." She looked at Jenny, at her ring. "Maybe it's the ring," she said. "Or something else connected to your family." Jenny clenched the ring in her fist. "We'll find it," she said. "Whatever it is." "I can feel it," Jack said, sitting by the fire. "I feel the answers are closer than we think. We just have to be ready for them." He stood and walked to the table. On his palm lay the piece of metal he'd found in the basement. "Metal remembers," he said. "And I think it can help us." He placed the metal on the table next to the map. Everyone fell silent. "What are you trying to say?" Arthur asked. "I don't know," Jack said. "But I feel this is important. That it's part of the answer." He looked at his hands, at the metal, at the map. "We have to go," he said. "And we have to be ready for anything." January 7, 1989. Brookfield. The Genesis Mansion. Evening. That evening, Sophia called everyone to dinner. She'd made something special—meat pie, salad, hot tea with honey. Everyone sat at the table, and the room smelled of home. "I want to tell you something," Sophia said when everyone had eaten. "I don't know what awaits you. I don't know what you'll face. But I know one thing: you are my children. All of you. And I'm proud of every one of you." She looked at Arthur, Lisa, Max, Jenny, Emma, Jack, Sasha. At their faces, their eyes, their hands holding forks and mugs. "When this is all over," she said, "I want you to know: you can always come home. Here. To me." No one answered. But each of them felt warmth spread through their chest. "Thank you, Mom," Arthur said. "You're welcome," Sophia replied. "It's my job." She smiled at them, and in that smile was everything: love, care, hope. Everything they had lost and found again. Night fell over the mansion. Outside, the wind howled, but inside it was warm. They were together. And that was all that mattered.