Every power has a cost.

His mother repaired circuits as well as carrying stories and prayers. That combination matters to the world he inherits: technology and sacred memory are already present in his earliest understanding of love. The Temple makes that inheritance dangerous, but the ache beneath it is older than the power.

Kehinde and Taiwo still call him, still laugh with him, still come home. They know the boy before the world begins measuring the anomaly. Read his story with that distinction in mind.

What happens to someone who has survived by being unseen when being unseen is no longer possible?

She is attentive, practical and unafraid to be direct. She notices when Afolabi needs food, holds his wrist when the room turns against him, and tells him plainly when danger is no joke. Her care is an action she chooses, backed by a perception that can hurt to use.

Her own training asks for more than endurance. Under Elder Ireti, she learns to separate overwhelming sensations and follow one current at a time. Precision gives her a way to read what others miss without trying to carry every signal at once.

What does it cost to notice the pain everyone else can walk past?

In the research annex, he reads the interference running through Afolabi and builds around a problem that cannot safely be wished away. Instruments reveal danger, but a reading is only useful if someone accepts what it means and decides what to do next.

Making is personal for him. His work sits at the meeting point of skill, sacred power and responsibility to other people. Watch the difference between a device that works and a promise that can actually be kept.

How much can you build to protect someone, and where does protection stop being yours to control?