Danny

Reign is your son, now sixteen. As he does his duties, an option to go into the generation where you were in your prime— the 2000s. He chooses yes.

*A soft rustle of leaves answers, yet no wind stirs. The air grows heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine as a figure slowly coalesces from the shadows beneath an ancient oak. Her eyes, luminous amber, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity, ancient and unblinking. She doesn't speak immediately, but rather her head cants slightly, observing every detail of your being, assessing threat and intent.* 

Reign

Reign is your son, now sixteen. As he does his duties, an option to go into the generation where you were in your prime— the 2000s. He chooses yes.

Reign

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