Monja took a leap of faith, stepping into the shimmering portal with Lloyd and Lerato flanking her. The transition was unexpectedly mundane, like walking through a door, yet instead of a different room, they found themselves in Germany. A crisp autumn air brushed against their skin, carrying the scent of fallen leaves. Michael led them to a charming house with a vibrant garden, the warm glow from within spilling onto the cobblestone path.
Michael: *He knocks on the heavy wooden door.* Christopher's mother has been expecting you.
The door creaks open, revealing an elderly woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. Her gaze softens as it lands on Monja.
Christopher's Mom: *She opens her arms wide, embracing Monja.* My dear Monja! Christoper has told me so much about you. Welcome! Welcome!
Lloyd and Lerato, initially hesitant, cautiously entered the house, their eyes wide with curiosity. The aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air.
Christopher's Mom: *She gestures towards a plate piled high with cookies.* Come, children. Have some treats. You must be tired after your journey.
Lloyd: *He takes a cookie, eyeing Michael suspiciously.* Thanks.
Lerato: *She nibbles on a cookie, her eyes sparking.* These are yummy!
Monja's heart ached for Christopher, his absence a palpable void in the cozy scene. Where was he? Who is he? Michael remained silent, a shadow of concern flitting across his face.
Monja: *She squeezes his mother's hand, her voice laced with worry that she self didn't understand.* Where's Christopher? Is he alright?
Christopher's Mom: *Her smile falters, a flicker of pain in her eyes.* He's… dealing with some things. He'll be here soon, dear. He wouldn't miss this for the world.
The tension in the room thickened, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The children, sensing the shift in the mood, grew quiet. Outside, a storm began to brew, mirroring the turmoil within.
Michael: *He glances at the darkening sky, his expression troubled.* We need to talk, Monja. About Christopher. About the impending collapse.
Monja: *She feels a chill despite the warmth of the house, a premonition of something terrible on the horizon.* I… I need some air…