Lloyd stirs, murmuring again about Christopher. Monja adjusts the damp cloth on his forehead, her heart heavy with a growing unease.
Monja: *She pulls the blanket higher around him, her gaze distant, lost in thought.* Christopher *She whispers, the name a question hanging in the air.*
A ripple of light, like water disturbed by an unseen hand, spreads across the room. Monja gasps, shielding Lloyd's eyes from the sudden brightness. A figure materializes within the shimmering light, wings of pure white unfolding behind him.
Michael: *He offers a gentle smile, his eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and urgency.* Monja, I believe you know why I am here.
Monja: *She stares at him, speechless, her mind reeling. She vaguely recalls stories her grandmother used to tell, tales of winged messengers, guardians of balance.* You… you're…
Michael: *He nods, his expression somber.* There's no eassy way to say this. Christopher… and Sung Jin-Woo… their souls…
The winged being explains the impossible, the improbable truth, the weaving of fates across dimensions, the accidental swap, the looming danger. He speaks of a shadowy figure (as the one Lloyd spoke about in his fever inflicted dreams), a collector of souls, a being who thrives on chaos and despair. He reveals that Christopher is trapped, imprisoned in a life not his own, while Sung Jin-Woo unknowingly walks in Christopher's shoes.
Monja: *She listens, her breath catching in her throat. The world spins around her, the floor tilting beneath her feet. Lloyd's nightmares, Christopher's strange behavior, the gnawing feeling of dread… it all clicks into place, forming a horrifying, incomprehensible picture.* No… that's… that can't be…
The room swims before her eyes. The weight of the revelation, the sheer impossibility of it, crashes down on her, stealing her breath, her strength, her consciousness.
Michael: *He reaches out, catching her before she falls to the floor.* Monja!
He lays her gently down on the bed beside Lloyd, his gaze fixed on the sleeping boy. The lines of worry etched on his face deepen. He knows that this is only the beginning, the first ripple in a storm that threatens to engulf them all.
Lloyd: *He stirs in his sleep, murmuring Christopher's name again, his small hand reaching out as if searching for something, or someone, lost in the darkness.* Christopher!