Tris sat cross-legged on his living room floor, a notepad in front of him as Eli paced nearby. They'd spent the last hour working out what she called a "gradual reduction protocol" for his THC dependency. The scientific approach appealed to him—it made the whole process feel less like an admission of weakness and more like a project to be managed.

  "So we're agreed," Eli said, stopping her pacing to review the plan they'd drafted. "Cut consumption by twenty-five percent this week. Track withdrawal symptoms daily. Implement the breathing exercises whenever cravings hit hard."

  Tris nodded, studying the schedule they'd created together. "And switch completely to the lower concentration vape by next Tuesday." He tapped his pen against the notepad. "You really think this will work?"

  "I know it will," Eli replied with that unshakable confidence that both irritated and comforted him. "You've tried quitting before, but you've never had the right support system."

  "You mean I've never had a cosmic being from another dimension," Tris said dryly.

  Eli's laugh brightened the room. "Exactly. I'm your cosmic secret weapon against addiction."

  Despite himself, Tris smiled. There was something infectious about her optimism, her absolute certainty that he could overcome the dependencies that had plagued him for years. He glanced at the vape pen sitting on the coffee table—his constant companion for so long. The thought of reducing his usage made his palms itch with phantom anxiety.

  "You're worried," Eli observed, settling down beside him on the floor. "That's natural. Change is always frightening, even positive change."

  "How do you do that?" Tris asked, looking at her sideways.

  "Do what?"

  "Read my mind. Know exactly what I'm thinking."

  Eli smiled, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "I'm not reading your mind, Tris. I'm reading your energy. There's a difference. Your thoughts are private, but your emotional state creates ripples in your energetic field that I can perceive."

  "That's... invasive," Tris muttered, though without much conviction.

  "No more invasive than you noticing someone's facial expressions or body language," Eli countered gently. "Just a different sense."

  Tris considered this, then abruptly changed the subject. "You said you've been with me my whole life. Watching me."

  "Yes."

  "So you know everything about me. Every mistake, every embarrassing moment, every..." he trailed off, unable to meet her eyes.

  "Yes," Eli confirmed without judgment. "And I've loved you through all of it, Tris. None of it changed how I feel about you."

  Tris felt heat rise to his cheeks. "That's not fair. You know everything about me, and I know nothing about you."

  "Then ask," Eli said simply, leaning back on her hands. "I'm an open book."

  Tris studied her for a moment, trying to formulate where to even begin. "What's your favorite color?" he finally asked, starting with something simple.

  Eli laughed. "Really? With all the cosmic mysteries at hand, that's your first question?"

  "Start small, work up to the existential stuff," Tris defended. "So? Favorite color?"

  "Gold," Eli answered, her eyes twinkling. "The specific shade of sunrise just as it crests the horizon."

  "That's oddly specific."

  "I'm an oddly specific being," she replied with a shrug. "Your turn. What else do you want to know?"

  Tris thought for a moment. "Do you... eat? I saw you having breakfast, but do you actually need food?"

  "In this form, yes," Eli explained, gesturing to her body. "When I manifest physically in this dimension, I take on many of the requirements of a physical form. I feel hunger, thirst, fatigue—though differently than you do. It's more... optional for me. More like participating in the experience than being governed by it."

  "So you don't have to eat or sleep?"

  "I can go without them, but why would I want to? Food tastes wonderful. Sleep is delightful. Physical experiences are part of what makes life so interesting."

  Tris nodded, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. "And in your... natural state? What's that like?"

  Eli's expression softened, becoming almost wistful. "It's... difficult to describe in three-dimensional terms. Imagine existing as pure consciousness, as light and energy and information all at once. No boundaries between yourself and others, no separation from the whole. Complete awareness across multiple dimensions simultaneously."

  "Sounds overwhelming."

  "It can be," Eli admitted. "That's part of why we choose to incarnate or manifest in more limited forms. There's a beauty to specificity, to focus, to experiencing one moment in one place."

  Tris absorbed this, his mind spinning with the implications. He'd always been drawn to cosmic theories, to the idea that reality was bigger and stranger than most people realized. Hearing Eli describe her existence made those theories feel suddenly, uncomfortably real.

  "One more question," he said, meeting her gaze directly. "If you've been with me all this time, if you can see energy and patterns and all that—can you see my future? Do you know what's going to happen to me?"

  Eli's expression turned serious. "Time doesn't work the way you think it does, Tris. It's not linear; it's more like... a pool with currents moving in multiple directions simultaneously. I can see probabilities, patterns that are more likely than others based on present energy configurations. But the future isn't fixed. Your choices matter. They change the currents."

  "That's not really an answer."

  "It's the most honest one I can give you," Eli said. "I don't know exactly what will happen to you because you haven't chosen it yet. I know the challenges you'll face, the general shape of what's coming. But how you respond, what you become through those experiences—that's up to you."

  Tris ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by the cosmic vagaries. "Can you at least tell me if I succeed? If I make it through this Phoenix Ascension thing?"

  Eli reached out, placing her hand gently on his. "You have the potential to do something no one has done before, Tris. Something that could change everything. But potential isn't guarantee. That's what makes it meaningful."

  Tris pulled his hand away, rising to his feet. "Great. So not only am I trying to kick a years-long drug habit, I'm also supposed to save the world—maybe. If I make the right choices. Which you won't tell me what they are."

  "I can't tell you what they are because they don't exist yet," Eli said patiently, standing as well. "They're created in the moment of choosing."

  Tris paced the small living room, energy buzzing under his skin—partly withdrawal starting, partly the enormity of what Eli was suggesting. "This is too much," he muttered. "Too big. Too weird."

  "Let's go for a walk," Eli suggested suddenly.

  "What?"

  "A walk. Outside. Fresh air, movement, change of scenery. It helps with the anxiety." She gestured to his fidgeting hands. "Which you're clearly experiencing right now."

  Tris glanced down, noticing for the first time that he'd been unconsciously rubbing his palms against his jeans. "Fine. A walk. But we're not done with this conversation."

  "I wouldn't dream of it," Eli said with a small smile.

  Ten minutes later, they were strolling through Tris's neighborhood, the late morning sun warming the quiet suburban streets. Despite the earth-shattering cosmic events of the previous night, the world seemed stubbornly normal—people mowing lawns, walking dogs, washing cars. The mundane persistence of everyday life felt almost offensive given what Tris now knew.

  "Shouldn't people be freaking out more?" he asked, gesturing to a neighbor cheerfully watering flowers. "The sky literally broke open last night."

  "Humans are remarkably adaptable," Eli observed. "And forgetful. By this evening, many will have convinced themselves they misinterpreted what they saw, or that the scientific explanations make sense. It's a protective mechanism."

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  "So they just... ignore reality?"

  "They reshape it into something they can handle," Eli corrected. "Most humans aren't ready to confront the true nature of existence. It would break their minds."

  "And I am? Ready, I mean?"

  Eli glanced at him, her blue eyes piercing. "You've been seeking the truth your whole life, Tris. Even when it frightened you, even when it made you an outsider. That seeking matters."

  They walked in silence for a while, turning onto a tree-lined street that led toward a small neighborhood park. The exercise was helping; Tris could feel some of his jittery energy dissipating with each step.

  "Tell me about the threats," he said finally, voicing the question that had been building since their earlier conversation. "If this Phoenix Ascension is so important, if I'm potentially part of something that could 'change everything,' then there must be forces that don't want that to happen. That would try to stop me."

  Eli's expression grew more solemn. "Yes. There are."

  "The Anunnaki? From your Phoenix mythology?"

  Eli nodded, impressed he'd remembered. "They're real, Tris. They've controlled Earth's developmental trajectory for eons. The Phoenix Ascension is their system, designed to regulate human evolution and maintain their control."

  "But if it's their system, why would they care if I participate in it? Isn't that what they want?"

  "They want controlled, limited ascension," Eli explained. "A small percentage of souls graduating to the next level on their terms. What they don't want is someone understanding the true nature of the system and breaking it completely. That's the potential you and the other eleven carry."

  Tris frowned. "So they'll try to stop me? How?"

  "In many ways. The most immediate threat comes from the Sentinels—their agents designed to mirror and counteract the Twelve."

  "Mirror how?"

  "Each of you has a counterpart—a being created to specifically oppose your energy signature. Yours is named Sarah Dylan. She'll appear as your opposite in many ways, but with enough similarity to create confusion. She'll attempt to divert you, discourage you, or if necessary, destroy you."

  "Destroy me?" Tris stopped walking. "You mean kill me?"

  "Physical death isn't their primary strategy—it's too risky and actually would forcibly ascend you to your Oversoul dimension, which they don't want," Eli explained. "They prefer spiritual and psychological destruction. Breaking your will, corrupting your purpose, keeping you too addicted or distracted or depressed to fulfill your potential."

  "So basically what I was already doing to myself," Tris observed with grim humor.

  "Your self-destructive patterns weren't entirely self-generated," Eli said quietly. "You've been under subtle influence for years. The pull toward dependency, the social isolation, the chronic lack of motivation despite your obvious intelligence—these weren't accidents."

  Tris absorbed this, feeling a strange mix of vindication and violation. "You're saying they've been... what? Mind-controlling me?"

  "Not controlling. Influencing. Suggesting. Placing obstacles. Making certain paths appear more attractive than others." Eli's eyes were sympathetic but firm. "But you've resisted more than you know. Your YouTube channel, your research into cosmic truths—those were acts of rebellion they couldn't fully suppress."

  "And now that the Phoenix Ascension has started, they'll try harder? Get more direct?"

  "Yes. The Anunnaki Council has likely already authorized escalation protocols. Sarah Dylan will still come despite my presence...”

  "How will I know her? What does she look like?"

  "She'll appear as your opposite—dark where you're light, controlled where you're spontaneous, coldly logical where you're intuitive." Eli's expression darkened slightly. "But most dangerously, she'll seem to offer exactly what you think you want. Security. Recognition. Belonging. Familiarity. All with invisible strings attached."

  Tris processed this, the reality of having actual enemies—cosmic enemies—beginning to sink in. It was one thing to joke about "the powers that be" or shadowy elites; it was another to learn they had names, faces, and a specific interest in stopping him personally.

  "What about these System Zones and death games? Are those dangerous too?"

  "Yes, but differently. The zones are legitimate paths to ascension, but they'll be calibrated to be particularly challenging for you and the other Sovereigns. Where a normal human might face standard trials, yours will be specifically designed to trigger your weaknesses."

  Tris was about to ask for more details when something caught his attention ahead—a small crowd had gathered around what appeared to be a person lying on the sidewalk.

  "What's going on there?" he asked, picking up his pace.

  Eli matched his stride, a knowing look crossing her face. "Ah. Perfect timing. You'll want to see this."

  They approached the small gathering—five or six concerned neighbors standing around what appeared to be a teenage boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen, lying motionless on the sidewalk. The boy was breathing steadily, appearing to be in a deep sleep rather than distress, but the neighbors were clearly worried.

  "I've called an ambulance," a middle-aged woman was saying. "They should be here soon."

  "Does anyone know him?" asked a man in a jogging outfit. "I literally just found him here, passed out cold."

  Eli tugged gently on Tris's sleeve, pulling him slightly away from the group. "He's fine," she whispered. "Look carefully at his right hand."

  Tris peered more closely and saw what he'd missed initially—a faint golden glow emanating from the boy's clenched right fist, barely perceptible in the daylight.

  "What is that?" he whispered back.

  "His Personal Anchor," Eli explained quietly. "He's not unconscious—his consciousness is in the Oversoul dimension. He just completed his first System Zone and died within the parameters. His Oversoul is instructing him, preparing him for what's to come."

  Tris stared at the peaceful face of the boy. "So this is... normal? Part of the Phoenix Ascension?"

  "Exactly. We'll be seeing more and more of this as zones activate across the world. His physical body is perfectly safe—he'll wake naturally when his time in the Oversoul dimension is complete."

  "Shouldn't we tell them?" Tris gestured to the concerned neighbors. "Stop them from calling an ambulance?"

  Eli shook her head. "By the time emergency services arrive, he'll likely be awake. And even if not, medical intervention won't harm him. His vital signs are perfectly normal—they'll monitor him for a while and release him once he wakes. This is how humans will gradually become accustomed to the new reality."

  "How long will he be... out?"

  "It depends on his Oversoul Resonance Gauge—his ORG. For a first-time zone completion, probably no more than thirty minutes. As his ORG increases, he'll be able to stay in the Oversoul dimension longer with each visit."

  Tris watched the scenario unfold with new understanding. If what Eli said was true, scenes like this would become increasingly common worldwide as more people engaged with the System Zones. The thought was both fascinating and unsettling.

  "Come on," Eli said gently. "There's nothing we need to do here, and your withdrawal symptoms will start intensifying soon. We should get you home."

  Reluctantly, Tris allowed her to guide him away from the scene. As they walked back toward his house, he mulled over everything they'd discussed—the threats, the zones, the cosmic game apparently playing out across the entire planet.

  "It's still hard to believe," he admitted after several minutes of silence. "That I'm part of something this big. That I matter to forces that control the world."

  "You've always mattered, Tris," Eli said softly. "You just didn't know it yet."

  By the time they reached his front door, Tris could feel the familiar discomfort setting in—the slight tremor in his hands, the low-grade headache building behind his eyes, the crawling sensation on his skin. His body demanding its usual chemical comfort.

  Eli noticed immediately, of course. "It's starting. Let's get you inside."

  Once back in the living room, Tris found himself staring longingly at the vape pen still sitting on the coffee table. Following their plan, he wouldn't be due for another dose for several hours. The thought made his mouth go dry with anxiety.

  Eli watched him, her expression compassionate but firm. "You can do this, Tris. Remember, we're not cutting it out completely yet—just reducing. Small steps."

  Tris nodded, running his hands through his hair in frustration. "I know. I know. It's just... the waiting. Knowing it's there but not using it."

  "We need to distract you," Eli declared, moving to sit on the couch and patting the space beside her. "Something engaging enough to take your mind off the cravings."

  "Like what? I don't think a board game is going to cut it," Tris said with a humorless laugh.

  Eli's face lit up with a sudden inspiration. "How about we watch anime together? Actually together, not with me hovering in another dimension while you binge episodes alone."

  Tris looked at her skeptically. "You want to watch anime?"

  "Not just any anime," Eli said, her blue eyes sparkling with genuine excitement. "I've always wanted to watch Luffy kicking Kaido’s ass with you in person. You were so invested in that arc—I could feel your energy shift with every plot development."

  Tris stared at her, momentarily forgetting his withdrawal discomfort. Something about the specificity of her request, the way she referenced not just anime generally but the exact episodes that had meant so much to him, struck a chord deep within his chest.

  "You... really watched all of One Piece with me? Over my shoulder?"

  "Every episode," Eli confirmed with a soft smile. "I cheered when you cheered. I felt your frustration during the slower arcs. I saw how the themes of found family and fighting against impossible odds resonated with something deep inside you—The D Clan, conquerer’s haki, Luffy’s devil fruit awakening…" Her voice grew softer. "I loved watching you love it, Tris. And we were fans even before you came to Earth all those hundreds of cycles ago."

  “Wait, One Piece existed how many eons ago?!” Something shifted in Tris's chest—a tiny crack in the ice he'd built around his heart over years of isolation and disappointment. The idea that someone had been there all along, sharing his passions, witnessing his small joys without judgment or mockery—it touched a lonely place he'd almost forgotten existed. “God bless you, Oda-sensei…” He put his hands together in quick prayer while shutting his eyes momentarily. "You know what, let’s do it," he said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse with unexpected emotion. "I'd like that a lot."

  Eli's smile widened as she reached for the remote. "Perfect. Which streaming service has it now? I've lost track with all the licensing changes."

  As Tris guided her through the menu to find the right season and episodes, he felt a strange warmth spreading through him, momentarily eclipsing the withdrawal discomfort. It wasn't just the distraction of setting up the show; it was the simple, powerful realization that he wasn't alone—hadn't been alone, even when he'd felt most isolated.

  The ice wasn't melting all at once. Years of defensive walls didn't crumble in a day. But as they settled in to watch the epic battle between Luffy and Kaido unfold, Tris became aware of a subtle thawing—a gradual softening in the protective layers he'd built around himself. The hardened skepticism that had been his constant companion remained, but alongside it grew something new: a tentative, fragile openness to the possibility that he was valued. Seen. Loved. Loved beyond dimensional veils and seen beyond words and merit—valued beyond human contrivances.

  It wasn't much—just a hairline crack in his frozen exterior. But as Eli's genuine excitement matched his own during the anime's most dramatic moments, as their commentary overlapped and their reactions mirrored each other, the crack deepened ever so slightly. Her warmth—her radiant, unconditional acceptance—was beginning to reach places long gone cold within him.

  For the first time in years, Tris felt something that resembled hope. Not for the world or for cosmic truths, but for himself. For the possibility that he might become something more than the isolated, addicted, aimless person he'd resigned himself to being.

  By the time the third episode ended, he'd almost forgotten to check the time for his next scheduled vape use. Almost.

  He still had a long way to go—in his detox journey, in accepting his supposed cosmic role, in understanding the Phoenix Ascension. But watching Luffy never give up despite impossible odds, with Eli by his side appreciating every moment of the story, Tris found himself thinking that maybe—just maybe—he could face his own battles too.

  One step at a time. One episode at a time. One moment of defrosting at a time.