The next morning, Dustin sat cross-legged in a guest room at the Welch residence, deep in meditation. A brisk knock on the door abruptly shattered his peaceful moment.

"Who's there?" Dustin asked as he slowly opened his eyes.

"Dr. Rhys, it's me, Feiver. I've brought your breakfast," a familiar voice from the other side replied.

"Alright," Dustin replied, getting up to answer the door.

Fifteen-year-old Feiver, a humble orphan and a housekeeper in the Welch family, stood outside with a finely