Everyone, from the mighty to the meek, was part of this new world Ross was building.
The ceremony had long lost its formal tone. The atmosphere was alive, vibrant, and full of awe.
"Mom! I want one too!" cried a young voice, breaking through the noise.
A small boy—no older than seven—was tugging at his mother's dress, his eyes wide and shining with excitement.
His chubby fingers pointed eagerly toward the people around him that seemed magical and now has powers that can only be seen in fairy tales and comic books.
"Someday, sweetheart," his mother said with a gentle smile, kneeling to his level.
"But not now. You still have some growing to do."
"Aw, but I wanna fly like them and be fast and strong and capable. I want to protect you most of all! I won't let the bad guys hurt you." he pouted, stamping his foot.
His mother laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "When you're older. That's the rule."
She straightened up and glanced toward the raised platform where Ross stood.
