Jinah nods, her gaze fixed on the book in Christopher's lap. A plan begins to form, a desperate gamble to reclaim her brother, and to restore the balance of their fractured world.
Jinah: *She bites her lip, a flicker of determination in her eyes.* There's a… a ritual described in the book. A way to reverse the swap.
Christopher: *He looks up sharply, a spark of hope igniting in his chest.* A ritual? What kind of ritual?
Jinah hesitates, her voice dropping to a whisper. The ritual involved ancient artifacts, a convergence of energies and a dangerous dance with the very fabric of reality.
Jinah: *She shivers, pulling her cardigan tighter around her.* It's… complicated. And potentially dangerous.
Meanwhile, in the sun-drenched room thousands of miles away, Monja stirred, her head throbbing. The South-African sun streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the room. Michael, leader of the winged people, sat beside her, his expression a mixture of concern and relief.
Monja: *She blinks, trying to focus on the winged figure before her. The last thing she remembered was a wave of agonizing pain, a feeling of being ripped apart.* Michael? What… what happened?
Michael: *He smiles softly, his eyes filled with complex emotion Monja couldn't quite decipher.* You're safe. *Michael said but didn't answer her question.*
Monja: *She pushed herself up, a wave of dizziness washing over her. The phantom pain in her chest, though much fainter, still lingering.* Safe? What are you talking about?
Michael: *His smile fades, replaced by a grim expression.* You need to prepare yourself and your kids… For a new life, in Germany.
Monja stares at him, dumbfounded. Germany? What was he talking about?
Monja: *Her breath catches in her throat, a sense of dread creeping into her heart as she's not comprehending at full.* Germany? But… but what about my kids… Lloyd and Lerato… who's going to look after them if I'm to leave?
Michael: *He hesitates, choosing his words carefully.* They'll be joining you, of course. It's time that you meet your… soon-to-be family. It's time that you meet Christopher.
Monja's world tilted. Christopher? Family? What in the world is this winged being talking about? The implications hit her like a physical blow to the gut. She felt a flicker of anger, a surge of protective instincts for her children. This wasn't right. None of this felt right.
Monja: *She clenches her fists, her eyes narrowing.* Christopher? Family? What are you talking about? I don't know anybody by that name.