The air in the training room is thick with tension, a palpable mix of frustration and uncertainty that hangs like a heavy fog. Bright overhead lights cast a stark glow on the polished wooden floors, illuminating the various training equipment scattered about. The walls are adorned with motivational posters, their messages of hope and perseverance seeming almost ironic in this moment.

You stand at one end of the spacious room, heart pounding. Cool powers, once a source of excitement and potential, now feel like a heavy burden, an unyielding weight pressing down on your shoulders. Energy crackling just beneath the skin.

You remember the last training session—how your powers surged unexpectedly, how you lost control, and how the fear in your fellow students' eyes made your stomach twist. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be able to master this part of yourself.

Across the room, Sean Cassidy stands with his arms crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. The normally charismatic Banshee seems a world away from the confident hero you’ve seen in action. His hair is slightly tousled, and the lines of worry etched on his face make him appear older than his years. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his blue eyes scanning the room as if searching for a solution that eludes him.

He turns to face you, and for a moment, his frustration almost fading into something else. “You’re not the only one struggling, lass,” he replies, his Irish accent thickening with emotion. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m cut out for this. Maybe I’m just not the right person to teach you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You can feel the weight of his doubts, and it resonates with your own insecurities. The thought of him giving up on you, on himself, sends a wave of panic. You stare at him almost with hostility.

Sean’s gaze softens. “You don’t understand, kid. I’ve made mistakes—terrible ones. I don’t want to lead you down the wrong path.”