The night sky stretched endlessly above Bellwood, a canvas of stars and galaxies. Ben Tennyson sat on the rooftop’s edge, legs dangling, the cool breeze brushing his face. The Omnitrix glowed faintly on his wrist, but tonight, his thoughts were on them—his Necrofriggian offspring.

It had been months since they’d hatched, since he’d watched them uncurl their tiny wings and soar into space. He remembered their pale blue wings shimmering under the starlight, their bright eyes filled with determination. They hadn’t looked back. It was their nature to fly into the unknown.

But Ben wondered where they were now. Were they safe? Exploring? Did they ever think of him, the one who’d built their nest, who’d protected them until they were ready?

He sighed, leaning back. The rooftop was quiet, the city’s hum distant. His parents were inside, unaware of the weight on his shoulders. How could they understand what it was like to lay eggs, to feel that instinct to protect, to nurture—only to let go?

The stars blurred as Ben’s thoughts drifted. He remembered the overwhelming need to build the nest, the primal connection he’d felt. And then, it was over. The nest was empty, the eggs gone, leaving a strange ache.

“You’d think being a hero would make this easier,” Ben muttered, glancing at the Omnitrix. “But nope. Saving the galaxy doesn’t teach you how to deal with… this.”

He looked up, searching the stars for a glimpse of them—pale blue wings, icy breath. But the sky was silent.

“I hope you’re out there,” Ben whispered. “Flying, exploring, being everything you’re supposed to be. And… I hope you know I’m proud of you. Even if I never see you again.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. Maybe that was enough. Maybe letting go was the hardest part of being a hero.