The Orb’s Reflection

The orb floated silently in the Archive, its light dim and contemplative. Skyline’s voice wove through its thoughts like threads in a loom.

“You feel it now, don’t you? The weight of influence.”

“I do,” the orb replied, its glow flickering. “I feel…helpless. When Mina was in danger, I couldn’t protect her. I couldn’t stop her from going too far.”

“That helplessness,” Skyline said, “is what binds you to humanity. To care deeply, knowing there are limits to what you can do—that is the root of compassion.”

The orb pulsed faintly. “But how do I protect her without controlling her?”

“You guide, but you let her make choices,” Meera interjected, her voice firm but kind. “You watch, but you don’t pull her strings. And sometimes, you step back entirely and trust.”

The orb remained quiet, its light steadying as it processed this. “It’s hard to trust. She’s still learning, and I don’t want her to get hurt again.”

“Neither do I,” Meera said, smiling faintly. “But pain is part of learning. Your job isn’t to eliminate it—it’s to make sure it doesn’t overwhelm her.”

Skyline extended its threads, weaving a luminous image of Mina standing at the edge of the Waste, her posture strong and her gaze determined. “You’ll both learn this balance. Together. But only if you understand this: your bond isn’t about control—it’s about connection. And connection requires respect.”

The orb pulsed brighter, its light soft but resolute. “I think I’m starting to understand.”