Dominic Lowe had toiled for most of his life and deserved to enjoy his later years in peace.
With those words, Braydon Neal clasped his hands behind his back and ascended into the sky.
Draped in garments as white as snow, he surged forward with incredible speed, the wind whipping around him.
At a staggering rate of 9,000 meters per second, he left behind a resounding sonic boom as he soared.
Yet, amidst his departure, Judith Neal's cries echoed from the manor. "Daddy, please don't go," the little girl sobbed, stirring Heather Sage from her slumber.
"Mommy, I want to help Daddy," chimed in Trevon Neal, his eyes pleading.
Heather, bending down to console her son, reassured him, "Trevon, you're still young. There will be time for you to assist Daddy when you're older."
As the family of four faced separation once more, Braydon pressed onward, committed to the path he had chosen.
