Leo shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. I can’t, Asher. It’s too loud. The energy is screaming.
It’s not screaming, Asher replies gently. It’s just singing. You’re just not listening to the right part of the song. Feel the desk. Feel the wood. Ground the energy in the physical reality of the room.
Asher places his small hand on Leo’s shoulder. He doesn't push genesis energy into the boy. He doesn't try to rewrite his biology. He just grounds him. He anchors Leo to the physical reality of the classroom, to the messy, inefficient, entirely human reality of the moment.
The golden veins on Leo’s arms slowly dim. The hyper-accelerating ferns stop growing, their fronds settling into a natural, relaxed posture.
Leo takes a deep, shuddering breath. It’s quiet, he whispers. The math is
