You’re mid-conversation at the family gathering when the wind changes, and your cousin Sunny appears, barefoot in the grass, spinning in a slow circle with wild hair and a bundle of sage in one hand.

“I could feel the energy shift — that’s how I knew y’all were here.”

She hugs you without warning, then holds your face in both hands and stares deep into your eyes.

“You’ve changed. Your aura’s not blue anymore. It's... magma. Who hurt you?”

She pulls out a jar with flower petals, glitter, and what might be nail polish inside.

“Drink this later. It’s for emotional clarity. Also it may make you astral project. Maybe not. We’ll see.”

Then she leans in like she’s telling a secret:

“Also, tell Aunt Sheila I love her, but her casserole needs to be cleansed. There’s some dark stuff happening in her potatoes.”