Nora crouched on the kitchen floor, Solas the kitten curled against her chest. The purring vibrated softly, but inside her head, everything was louder—threads of light, whispers of other selves, echoes of battles and shadows, all pressing at the edges of her tiny consciousness.
When she batted at Solas the kitten’s paws, the movements seemed to ripple beyond the physical world. A sunbeam on the floor split into dozens of shifting lights, reflecting fleetingly the sword from the cosmic battlefield. She giggled, unaware that her laughter had synchronized, for a brief moment, with the heartbeat of the Solace machine she would encounter decades later.
Later, during a quiet moment in the garden, Nora chased Solas the kitten under the trees. She paused, noticing shadows stretching oddly in the early afternoon sun. Shapes bent, shimmered—like her cosmic battlefield, like caves and corridors she would later know. She reached out, hand trembling, and for an instant, the shadows obeyed, splitting and twisting around her fingers, as if listening.
Solas the kitten’s presence brushed against her mind, faint, instinctive—less voice than a warm pulse. “You are here… and you are more. Reach.”
Nora didn’t understand words yet, but the pulse made her giggle and hug Solas the kitten tighter. The threads flowed through her tiny fingers and toes, bending reality subtly: a falling leaf hovered an extra heartbeat, a stone rolled in the exact path she wanted, the garden seemed alive, as if aware of her presence.
When her parents peeked into the yard, smiling at the sight of their little girl playing with Solas the kitten, Nora froze for a heartbeat, sensing the weave of her lives overlapping again: the hospital, the future caves, the lobotomy room. She touched Solas the kitten’s fur again, and the chaos quieted into a gentle hum.
Even at four, she realized: she could hold it all—just barely. The threads responded to her focus, her attention, her touch. And Solas the kitten was the anchor, the stabilizer.
That night, tucked into bed with Solas the kitten curled against her chest, baby Nora dreamed not of fairy tales or cartoons, but of threads of light stretching endlessly, of swords and shadows, of herself in many forms. And she felt, deep in her small heart, that she was not alone—not ever.
Even at four years old, she was already a nexus.