Kael, ever the pragmatist, was the next to speak, his voice a solid, grounding presence in the ethereal space of their shared consciousness.
’I am Kael,’ he stated, his words a stark contrast to Lyra’s poetic declaration. ’And I am… a hammer.’
’A hammer?’ Anya’s voice was laced with a gentle amusement. ’An instrument of creation, or destruction?’
’Both,’ Kael answered without hesitation. ’A hammer does not choose its purpose. It simply is. It is a tool, a force, a point of impact. It can build a house, or it can shatter a stone.’
’I am the thread of action,’ he declared, his voice ringing with the conviction of his newfound identity. ’The one that takes the ’what if’ and makes it ’what is.’ The one that strikes the forge and shapes the world.’
’I am the second thread,’ he said, his voice a powerful echo in the vastness of their shared creation. ’And I choose to be a hammer.’