Resonance Unbound

"So, what did you see?" Shirley asked again, his tone sharp and impatient, his steel-gray eyes fixed on Ezra like a hawk about to pounce.

"See what?" Ezra replied, feigning ignorance with an exaggerated shrug, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

Shirley narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. "Are you stupid or what? Is there anything in that head of yours? If I knocked, I'd probably hear an echo."

Ezra rolled his eyes, already thinking of a retort, but Shirley cut him off, his voice laced with barely concealed frustration. "When you were meditating," he said slowly, as if speaking to a particularly dense child, "what. did. you. see?"

Ezra sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "Fine. My soul or something. Nothing much," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "There was this creepy guy who kinda looked like me—well, uglier, obviously—claiming he was me from the future. He seemed like a total bitch, to be honest."

In truth, Ezra wasn't one to hand out compliments—especially not to himself. Yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that the figure claiming to be him had been… well, annoyingly handsome. There was something infuriating about it—the smug aura, the effortless confidence. Of course, Ezra would never admit it aloud. He'd sooner wrestle a monster barehanded than inflate that alternate version of himself with any form of praise.

Shirley's expression remained unchanged, though his jaw tightened slightly, a clear sign of his patience wearing thin. Ezra, either oblivious or enjoying himself, continued.

"Oh, and there was this huge glowing orb. A massive tree. My soul, I guess? Then these gigantic stairs leading up to a ridiculously big door. Also, statues—like, hundreds of statues. And a voice. A really dramatic voice. I think I'm forgetting something, though…" He trailed off, tilting his head as if trying to recall a trivial detail.

Shirley crossed his arms, tapping his foot against the charred ground, his silence practically daring Ezra to finish.

"Oh, right!" Ezra snapped his fingers. "It called me 'child of Divinity.' And I'm pretty sure my powers are connected to light or something. Makes sense, doesn't it?"

Ezra glanced at Shirley, expecting an exasperated sigh or a cutting remark. Instead, he was met with silence. Shirley just stood there, staring at him with an expression somewhere between disbelief and sheer mental exhaustion. His mouth opened slightly, as though he were about to say something, but no sound came out. Then he closed it again, his brow furrowing as if trying to process the absurdity of what he'd just heard.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The distant crackle of burnt wood and the faint rustling of the wind were the only sounds that filled the silence.

Finally, Shirley broke the stillness with a slow blink, his voice low and disbelieving. "You're too dumb to make this up."

Ezra's smirk widened, his lilac eyes sparkling with amusement. "What?" he said innocently, though his tone carried a hint of triumph. "You don't believe me?"

Shirley ignored him, dragging a hand down his face as if trying to physically wipe away the headache brewing in his skull. "Oh, fuck me," he muttered under his breath, his voice so low it was nearly a growl.

"Language, old man," Ezra quipped, clearly enjoying himself now.

Shirley shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual heat. He turned away, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "I'm too old for this shit." For a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but then he turned back, fixing Ezra with a hard, appraising look.

"Alright," Shirley said, his voice steady again. "Let me get this straight. You're telling me that you saw your soul, talked to some creepy future version of yourself, and heard a voice calling you 'child of Divinity.' And now you think your powers are connected to light."

Ezra nodded, his smirk softening into something more serious. "Pretty much."

"And you don't think this is… I don't know, important?"

Ezra shrugged, his tone casual. "I mean, it's not nothing, but it's not like I have a user manual for all this. I figured you'd explain the boring details later."

Shirley let out a long, pained sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kid, I don't even know where to start with how wrong that is."

"You could start by admitting I'm special," Ezra said, his grin returning. "I mean, 'child of Divinity'? That's got a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

Shirley groaned, muttering something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like, "Why do I bother?" But despite himself, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something not quite anger or frustration. Concern, maybe. Or pride. It was hard to tell.

"Get ready. We're leaving soon," Shirley said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ezra raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "To where?"

"The Underground," Shirley replied, his voice low and grave, as if the name itself carried weight.

Shirley fixed Ezra with a hard look, the playful banter evaporating like smoke in the wind. "The Underground," he repeated, his voice flat and matter-of-fact, leaving no room for argument. "It's where we'll get answers. You're not the first person to have powers they don't understand, kid. And if we're lucky, you won't be the last."

Ezra frowned, his smirk faltering at Shirley's tone. "The Underground?" he echoed, skeptical. "Sounds like a place I'll need to carry a dagger just to survive."

"You won't be wrong about that," Shirley said with a humorless chuckle. "It's not a place for fools or the faint of heart. People down there… they'll smell weakness on you like blood in the water. So keep your mouth shut, and for once, follow my lead."

Ezra folded his arms across his chest, his brows furrowing as he processed the warning. "You're really selling this place, you know? Sounds like a paradise."

Shirley ignored the sarcasm and turned away, checking the straps of his battered satchel. "We'll leave at sunrise. Gather your stuff—or whatever's left of it—because we're not coming back."

Ezra glanced around the charred landscape, the remnants of their shelter still smoldering faintly in the light of the rising sun. "Not much left to gather," he muttered, brushing ash off his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "So what's in the Underground, anyway? More weirdos like me?"

Shirley paused, his back still to Ezra. For a moment, it seemed as if he wasn't going to answer. But then, in a voice that was quieter than usual, he said, "The Underground's where people go when the world doesn't want them anymore. People with secrets. With power. Some are like you—lost, trying to figure out what the hell they are. Others…" He trailed off, his voice heavy. "Others are monsters pretending to be men."

Ezra's expression sobered as Shirley turned to face him again, the older man's eyes sharp and unyielding. "Whatever you do, don't trust anyone. Down there, loyalty's just another word for leverage."

Ezra swallowed hard, the knot of unease in his stomach growing tighter. "Great. Sounds like home already."

Shirley smirked faintly, the first hint of amusement breaking through his gruff demeanor. "Stick close to me, and you might just make it out alive."

Ezra couldn't help but grin back, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You've got a real knack for pep talks, you know that?"

" You know you talk too much," Shirley grumbled before giving Ezra a firm smack on the back of the head.