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In the Thompsons' Dream Landing, Izzie stood in the center of a floating marble platform, her hands full of Dream Sand as she tried to coach James on the basics of Dream Crafting. "Alright, James, focus!" Izzie said, flashing a wide, encouraging smile. "Don't think about the tool. Think about the feeling. Let the imagination take over!"
James took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. He extended his hands, trying to channel his energy into making a simple soccer ball. For a second, a brilliant surge of Dream Sand crackled along his fingers. But as the pressure built, the power grew unstable, tangling up within his chest. With a sharp gasp, James lost his grip.
The burst of uncontrolled energy rippled outward. It didn't do any damage, but the kinetic wave rushed across the platform and smacked straight into a wooden side table. A framed photograph sitting on the edge wobbled precariously before toppling over with a loud clatter. "Oh no!" James opened his eyes, rushing over to pick it up.
He lifted the frame, his thumb gently brushing across the glass. The picture showed a much younger James sitting on the shoulders of his father, Wyatt, both of them laughing.
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the platform. James stared down at his dad's face, his shoulders slumping.
"I'm sorry," Izzie said softly, stepping closer and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard."
"It’s not your fault," James muttered. He set the photo back down, keeping his gaze averted. "It's just... it's Father's Day."
Izzie's expression softened with deep empathy. "You miss him a lot, don't you?"
"Every single day," James admitted quietly. "I look at Zoey, and even though her dad was the Night Hunter, he was still there. He fights for her. He's in her life. And I look at you and Mateo, and how much your dad supports your family. I see what you guys have, and it makes me feel so bitter. Then I feel guilty for even being jealous."
"James, it’s okay to feel that way," Izzie insisted gently. "Nobody is going to judge you for wanting your dad back."
"But it's more than that. I'm terrified," James confessed, his voice cracking as he looked up to meet her eyes. "My dad was a legend. He inspired millions of people to pursue their dreams. I wanted so badly to be someone like him. But every time I try, it fails. I'm terrified that I’ll never be good enough. What if I'm just a disappointment to his name?"
"You could never be a disappointment," Emma called out as she walked out onto the platform. Her eyes were filled with absolute tenderness and a touch of shared sorrow. She walked straight to James and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"Mom," James mumbled into her shoulder, the defensiveness instantly draining out of him.
"I heard what you said," Emma whispered, gently rubbing his back. "Your father loved you because you were his son. He would be so proud of the brave young man you are becoming right now, trying to protect your friends and figure out your own path."
She pulled back slightly, looking at both James and Izzie. "We don't need a perfect legacy, James. We just need to navigate this life step by step, keeping his memory alive in our hearts."
Izzie wiped a stray tear from her own cheek and gave a small, encouraging nod. "Yeah. And you've got us, too. We’re a team, remember? No matter how many times your power gets tangled, we’re going to help you figure it out."
James took a deep, stabilizing breath, feeling the crushing weight in his chest finally begin to drop away. He looked from his mother to his best friend, a genuine, hopeful smile gracing his face for the first time all evening.
"Thanks," James said softly. "I think... I think I'm ready to try crafting that ball again."